Actions Speak Louder (7 page)

“Why not one dog now?” he inquired. “Since you live so close to your work, why not get a dog?”  He shrugged.  “Heck, you could take it to work if you wanted to.”

She shrugged.  “I think about it a lot.  I’ve always wanted one.”  She glanced off, thinking.  Why hadn’t she gotten one?  She knew the answer to her own question.  Jay hadn’t wanted a dog.  Briefly, he had considered allowing her to get one, but had changed his mind.

Suddenly, the word she’d used in her own thoughts sprang to the forefront. 
Allowed
.  The word suggested Jay had been her boss—that he’d been in charge of the decision making processes, and she realized with a gasp, she
had
given her power over to him.  She had wanted a dog.  He hadn’t.  His wants had trumped her.  They always had.

She gave a shudder, forcing away that epiphany, since it made her angry at him, but angrier at herself.  Ethan watched her face, and to her surprise, took hold of her hand.  “Hey, are you all right?”

She snapped back to the present and met his gaze.  “Uh, wow, sorry,” she uttered.  “I was just thinking about something.”  She forced a smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head.  “No, that’s okay.”  She noticed he had a hold of her hand and she gently extracted it from his grasp.  “You’re not eating your pizza.”

He watched her speculatively.  He remembered he had something important to tell her.  But then, briefly, he wondered if he should just let it go—the truth about his occupation.  Did it really matter that she thought he was a bonehead when it came to home repair?

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair.  Yes.  He needed to come clean.  His plan, well, at least at this point, was to live in the bungalow when the remodel was complete.  If he was her neighbor, she would soon learn his occupation.  He couldn’t very well hide it from her then.  Why hadn’t he simply told her what he did for a living the first time they had met?  Or the second time? 

It was likely she would soon see him working on his house.  He wasn’t going to sit idly by and let his crew do all the work.  The fact was, if he didn’t pick up a hammer, at least occasionally, he felt as if his world was off-kilter.

“Hey,” Marcia said this time, “are you all right?”

He gave a shaky laugh.  “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

The phone rang, just as he was about to tell her the truth about himself.  He sighed and sank back against the chair.  Were the fates intent on stalling him? he wondered.

Marcia answered the phone and his thoughts wandered.  He remembered that during none of their encounters had she ever asked him specifically what he did for a living.  And when he’d talked to her about various home repair issues, he had asked her for her opinions, rather than asking direct questions about how to complete particular jobs.  He knew he was splitting hairs, but reasoned that if she had garnered from his requests for her opinions that he was hapless when it came to home repair, was that his fault?  He groaned aloud, and she cast him a questioning glance. 

She gave an apologetic shrug, believing he was upset that she was on the phone.  Jay had always gotten worked up when she was on the phone if he had something to tell her.  Often, he’d been like a pesky six-year-old, sighing, making faces, and pacing around until she’d finally gotten off the phone in frustration. 
Another epiphany
!

Ethan realized she thought he had groaned because of the phone call.  He shook his head briskly.  “No, that’s okay,” he said, hoping she understood he was okay about the call.  It wasn’t his place to express displeasure when she received a call in her own home.  For whatever reason, it bothered him to think she was uncomfortable taking a call because of him.

“Yes, Collette,” Marcia said kindly into the receiver. 

That girl again,
he thought.  He made a face, but was thankful Marcia didn’t see it.  She might have viewed the reaction as immature, and he definitely did not want her thinking he was anything but mature.  Some inner sense told him she’d had dealings with childish men in the past. 

“You are?  That’s great,” Marcia said.  “Hey, thanks for letting me know.”  She hung up and returned to the table.  “Good news,” she said with a smile. “Collette and Drew are going to a movie tonight.”

“Oh, that’s great,” he said, attempting to sound encouraging.

Marcia watched his face.  “Uh, that reminds me.  I wanted to apologize to you for the way Collette treated you today.  I don’t know what possessed her to call you a…”

He raised a hand.  “No need to apologize, or repeat it,” he said with a humorless laugh.

“I think she was just in a bad mood.  You know, was experiencing a general feeling of ill will against the male population.”

“Well, with the exception of Drew,” he pointed out. 

“I hope things work out between them” she said wistfully.  “I’d hate to see her hurt again.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed.  “Me too.  She’s a … pip.”

Marcia searched his face and laughed.  “A pip, huh?”

“I’d tell you she’s a delight, but then…”

“What?”

“I’d be lying.”

Marcia bit back a chuckle.  “We should finish our pizza.”

Back at his bungalow, Ethan crossed the living room to the stairway leading upstairs.  He had cleaned out one of the second story bedrooms and had tossed an inflatable mattress onto the floor.  It wasn’t five star, but that didn’t matter.  He actually found he enjoyed the solitude of the little home.

Initially, he’d made the decision to live at the house during construction, due to an increase in theft at construction sites, big and small.  He lost costly materials all the time at his larger jobsites, despite the placement of cameras at each location.  Even an increase in the number of nighttime security guards hadn’t significantly diminished theft attempts.

He entered the bedroom—the largest of the three upstairs.  He spied the answering machine blinking from its place on the floor.  Deciding to ignore the red light for now, he left the bedroom to get ready for bed in the bathroom down the hall.  Since the home was older, it didn’t have an en suite master bath.  He would soon remedy that, however, having already met with an architect who had drawn up dramatic plans for the space. 

He turned on the shower, to heat up the water before he got in, and then shed his clothes.  He bathed quickly, brushed his teeth, and walked back to the bedroom.  He sent a glance at his large suitcase, which was open and across the room.  He wondered, did he have any clean clothes?  Any clean underwear?

He rummaged through the case and found a pair of boxers, but realized he’d need to do laundry sooner than later.  He slipped into the shorts, turned off the bedroom light, and crossed the room back to his bed.  He dropped onto the air mattress, shifting to find a comfortable position.  He suddenly missed his luxurious, over-sized king bed back at the condo.  It was perhaps the only luxury item he did miss.  He’d have to move it here as soon as the bedroom was completed.

Lying back, with his arm behind his head, he glanced toward the window.  He’d torn down the dust-laden coverings that had been there, but hadn’t remembered to drape something over the window until he found the time to purchase new curtains.  He grimaced, hoping the neighbors across the street hadn’t gotten an eyeful as he’d gotten ready for bed.

Suddenly, he spied the blinking light on the answering machine again.  With a weary sigh, he rose to punch the button. 

“Ethan,” a very feminine voice crooned, “it’s Gwen.  Where are you?”  She paused.  “Okay, well, I guess you’re not there.  Call me, please.”

He punched the button again and heard the second message.  “
Oh
,
Ethan
,” she said in an imploring voice, “if you’re there,
please
pick up.  Baby, we need to talk.  We’ve made a mistake.  We really have.  I miss you, so please…”

He punched another button, erasing the message before it played out.  Had Gwen’s voice always sounded like that?—with that whining tone that reminded him of chalk against a board?

He sighed.  He wasn’t being very nice, but then, neither was she. 
She
had broken off their relationship, so what was this
we
business.  Though he had to concede now, he had certainly gone along willingly with her announcement that they needed time apart to think.  Heck, he’d escorted her to the door, practically thumping her on the back, and agreeing wholeheartedly that they needed time apart to think.  That didn’t bode well for a future with her.

The fact that they’d remained apart for six months didn’t bode well either.  Apparently, she was getting nervous that the door to a future together was about to slam closed with a resounding smack, since she was stepping up her efforts toward a reconciliation.

Was he open to that possibility?  Had he even entertained the thought in the past six months?  Well, maybe.  But over the last few days?  Nope.

Why? 

And then it hit him.  He hadn’t given Gwen any kind of focused thought since he’d met Marcia.  Of course, he’d only just met his neighbor but… 

He laughed suddenly, remembering Marcia’s advice to the girl, Collette.  Her sidekick talk was interesting, but was it sound advice? he wondered.

He decided to ignore the other messages on the machine.  He’d check them in the morning.  It was probably Gwen anyway, leaving repeated messages in hopes that he would finally raise the white flag and come crawling back. 

His thoughts went back to Marcia’s sidekick advice yet again.  When he’d first met Gwen, had she been the sidekick or the center attraction?  He let out a sigh.  Stupid question.  She was stunning, with platinum blond hair that fell in a smooth cascade down her back.  She had a natural golden tone to her complexion, and always wore clothing designed to accentuate her smooth shoulders and exquisite curves.  Naw, Gwen wasn’t anybody’s sidekick.

He searched his memory, remembering the girl who had been her closest friend, and to put her in Marcia’s terms, Gwen’s sidekick.  The girl was brunette, subtlety pretty, but…  He shook his head.  She wasn’t a very nice girl, if he remembered correctly. 

Hmmm.  Maybe the sidekick advice only really applied to guys and not to girls. 
Could be
, he mused, as he drifted off to sleep.

***     

Ethan woke to the sound of someone knocking forcefully on the front door of his bungalow.  He took a moment to wake up, shaking his head and wondering if he’d imagined it.  But no, someone was definitely knocking. 

He rose, glancing out the front window.  He immediately spied a patrol car out front, with its flashing red light.  “What the heck?” he muttered.

He hurried down the stairs, forgetting he was presently wearing boxers and nothing else, and also nearly forgetting that the staircase was missing the banister.  That reality became apparent when he nearly sailed off of it.  Fortunately, he caught himself and managed to avoid a bad fall.

Reaching the door in one piece, he threw it open.  An officer stood on the porch, with Marcia standing beside him.  He gave her a puzzled glance, and then focused on the cop, who was first to speak.

“Sir, we’re sorry to disturb you, but Miss Elton here spotted a man trying to break into your home.”

Ethan turned his attention to Marcia.  “Where?”

“Basement window,” she told him.  “The one facing my house.”

He nodded, trying to wake up.  He ran a hand through his hair.  “How did you spot him?” he asked her.

“Oh, well, fortunately, Allie and Tootsie are great watchdogs.  They started dancing around, barking, and I couldn’t calm them down, so I knew something was wrong.  When they began nosing around my front door, I walked outside and saw him.”

“So you walked outside to check it out on your own?” he asked, now wide awake.

She nodded.  “I yelled at him and he took off.”

Ethan’s jaw dropped.  Marcia had yelled at an intruder?  What if he had turned on her?  He shook himself, to steel himself against the onslaught of emotion he felt at the thought of her putting herself in jeopardy. 

“Sir, are you okay?” the officer asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, glancing down and suddenly registering he was dressed in boxers and nothing else.  He abruptly left the doorway, but soon returned with a drop cloth draped over his shoulders.  “Sorry,” he murmured.  “I, uh, didn’t realize I wasn’t, uh, well, dressed.”

He avoided eye contact with Marcia, who he realized had seen him practically undressed.  He directed his question to the cop.  “Uh, did you catch the guy?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t likely.

“No,” he answered with a wince.  “We’ve had a rash of burglaries lately.  Many vacant homes have taken hits in recent months.”

Ethan nodded.  “Yeah, that’s why I decided to live here during the remodel of the place.”

The officer acknowledged his words.  “Well, there’s not much more I can do here.  If you have anymore trouble, give us a call.”  With a crisp nod, he turned toward Marcia.  “If you do happen to see someone suspicious again, call us right away.”