Close to You (5 page)

Around Valentine's Day, the tiny white snowdrops and yellow and purple crocuses bravely poked their heads up first through the drab winter soil. Then the showy daffodils trumpeted the real arrival of spring as they swayed in the March and early April breezes. Bright red tulips planted where they would get warm sun and blue phlox planted in the shady spots weren't far behind. Susan's spring garden too quickly transformed into beds of happy Oriental poppies in May and bushes of pink-and-white peonies in June.

The Shasta daisies she had planted ensured that she had cut flowers from June until the first frost. Black-eyed Susans and orange daylilies, totally self-sufficient, had multiplied
on their own. Yellow yarrow planted in the dry parts of the yard bloomed all summer as well.

Now, in late August, Susan watched for the chrysanthemums. The year they moved in, she had planted pots and pots of yellow and deep-orange mums. Each year they had bloomed again, better than the year before. The buds were on them now, almost ready to burst open.

She was glad they had moved to HoHoKus.
HoHoKus
—such a funny name for a town. There were so many Native American names in the northern New Jersey area. Pascack Valley, Mahwah, Kinderkamack Road, Musquapsink Brook. The area's original inhabitants were long gone, but their legacy remained.

Susan was cutting some of her beloved flowers to bring into the house when James popped his sleepy-eyed, five-year-old head out from the side door that led from the kitchen to the garden.

“Hi, sweetheart, did you have a good sleep?” Her heart burst at the sight of her firstborn. He was such a dear little boy and the thought that he would be starting kindergarten soon astounded her. She could remember so clearly the day he was born, the nurse rolling him into her hospital room in his Lucite bassinet, the wonder of holding her perfectly formed miracle in her arms. The time had gone by so quickly. First James, named for his father; then, two years later, Kimberly; and a year after that, Kelly.

As she walked toward her son, she thought about how good God had been to the Feeney family. They were all healthy. And James's cable business had skyrocketed. It was hard sometimes, his traveling so much, but the couple had agreed that it was something they could endure now, knowing it wouldn't be this way forever.

James was looking inquisitively at the bunch of flowers gathered in his mother's hand. “What are those flowers named, Mommy?”

“Black-eyed Susans, honey.”

The little boy's green eyes widened. “Just like you?”

Susan laughed with delight at the observation. “You're
right, James. But my eyes are really just a very deep brown.”

“And mine are green,” he stated solemnly.

“Mm-hmm.”

“And so are Kelly's.”

“Right. And what about Kimberly? What color are her eyes?”

“Blue,” he declared proudly.

Susan got a kick out of the fact that none of her children had inherited her dark eyes. She knew it was genetically improbable, but the surprise of it stared her clearly in the face each day.

“How about some French toast?” she suggested to her son, knowing in advance what his response would be. “Let me just get these flowers in some water and I'll make your favorite right away.”

As Susan went to the kitchen sink to fill a vase with water, her feeling of well-being suddenly evaporated as her eyes trained out the window toward the Richardses' empty house. Those dear, sweet people who had welcomed her so warmly into the neighborhood had died such a sad and senseless death.

At the Home and Hearth real-estate office, the physical inspection report on the house that would soon be Eliza's sat on Louise's desk. The house inspector had concluded in his twenty-page summary that the forty-year-old colonial was in sound condition, though there were two slight cracks in a retaining wall at the rear of the property and many of the slates on the roof needed to be replaced. The bathroom fixtures were those originally installed and all of the appliances in the kitchen were older. There was one “plus,” however: the hot-water heater was brand-new.

Louise was sure that nothing in the report would deter Eliza from buying the house. Eliza had seen for herself that the house was tired and ached for the vitality and energy of a new owner. Four decades ago, when the Richardses had moved into their brand-new HoHoKus home, Bergen County had been a much simpler place. The house had been expensive even then by the standards of the time, but people did not expect the bells and whistles demanded by buyers of premium real estate today. The Richardses had done virtually nothing to update the interior of their home. But they had done a top-of-the-line job when they added their swimming pool, hot tub and cabana. Louise found that a
bit strange, but quickly shrugged it off. Selling real estate provided a window on some of the most intimate parts of people's lives. She had seen plenty of bizarre behavior and lifestyles. The disparity between the inside and the outside of the Richardses' home was nothing.

Loading the report into the fax machine, Louise was punching the numbers to Eliza's office on the keypad when Vivienne Dusart, the listing agent, walked by.

“Everything holding together?” she asked.

Louise nodded with certainty. “Yes. The physical report came back basically clean. I'm faxing it to Eliza now. We're lucky, Viv. Eliza isn't going to nickel-and-dime over the state of things in the house. Those bathrooms and the kitchen are ancient. We both know that most buyers in this price category want a lot more glitz.”

“Hey, she's buying the location,” Vivienne shrugged matter-of-factly. “It's a shame, but she's got to pay.” She started to walk away.

Vivienne was right.

“At least it's nice that she'll have a new hot-water heater.”

The agent stopped and turned to stare at her. “That's not funny, Louise.”

Puzzled by her friend's response, Louise looked at her alertly.

“What do you mean?”

“You're kidding, right? You know what happened there. It was in the newspaper.”

“Obviously I don't know what you're talking about, Viv. Cut to the chase.”

‘There was a faulty gas valve on the old hot-water heater. Mr. and Mrs. Richards died of carbon-monoxide poisoning. You better tell your buyer right away, Louise. You don't want her suing you for lack of disclosure later.” Vivienne patted Louise on the shoulder. “If she wants out, let me know. I have someone else interested in the house.”

Purple helium-filled balloons hugged the ceiling above the chattering five-year-olds in the happy bedlam of Eliza's apartment's living room. The young guests gleefully took turns having their faces painted, unaware that their tender skin was being designed and brushed by one of the best makeup artists in New York City.

When, in one of their conversations before going on air, Eliza had mentioned to Doris that Janie was having a birthday party and wondered aloud what she was going to do with the kids for two hours, Doris had volunteered to come over and do some face-painting. While Doris had no children of her own, she was youthful in her sense of wonder and fun.

Like the children at the party, Doris herself looked forward all year to Halloween, spending months in the planning of her annual costume. It was well known at KEY News that the makeup woman spent Halloween disguised in her creative gear and entering every costume contest she could find in New York. She would start the day by going over to the ABC studios and try her luck on
LIVE with Regis and Kelly,
and then, after work, she would pick her way through carefully selected spots she had found while
poring through the pages of
New York
magazine. The city was full of masquerade parties and contests at clubs and hotels. She called ahead, ascertaining times and locations and carefully charting out her itinerary.

Doris took pains to make her costumes abstract enough so that on the spot she could, with some quick thinking, name her costume to coincide with the sometimes “surprise” themes of the Halloween contests. The first time she had been on what was then
LIVE with Regis and Kathie Lee,
Doris came decked out in a costume of crystals, sparkles and shimmering Christmas balls. When she learned while waiting outside the studio that the contest theme would be “The Seventies,” she quickly dubbed her costume “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” But the other show-goers waiting in line with her told her she looked like a disco ball. So when her turn came, that's what Doris told Regis she was. Her “Disco Ball” costume won the $500 first prize and a lava-lamp trophy. That night she went to a benefit ball, christened the same costume “Champagne Bubbles” and won again—this time, bleacher seats for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and $250. Over the years she had won cash, golf trips, theater tickets and seaside vacations. But for Doris it was not so much about the prizes as the fun and satisfaction of being recognized for her creativity.

Doris was flamboyant, talented and had an extremely good heart. Eliza smiled as she watched her, dressed in a form-fitting purple leotard in honor of Janie's favorite color, her long, dark hair flowing freely as she airbrushed green water-based makeup all over Gregory Leslie's serious little face. The boy shifted impatiently from one foot to the other as Doris carefully drew the brown-and-black scales on his cheeks, above his eyebrows and around his mouth that would make him into the dinosaur he had requested to be. For good measure, she painted on some silver sprinkles across his forehead. The payoff for Doris was the wide grin on the child's face as he looked at himself in the large hand mirror she held up for him.

“Wow! That's cool!”

Doris grinned in return. “Want a dinosaur tattoo?” she offered.

But Gregory, thrilled though he was with his new reptile visage, had had enough. He scampered off to show his new face to the other dinosaurs, butterflies and fairy princesses in the room.

As Doris turned to the next child on line and began her new work of art, Eliza felt the strength of Mack's arm wrap around her waist and the warmth of his lips near her ear.

“Looks like the party's a success. Janie is clearly loving it,” he said softly.

The smile faded from Eliza's face as she turned to look up at him. Mack was leaving at the end of the week, going to London to look at the flats that a real-estate agent there had lined up for him to see. Next weekend, she and Janie were moving into their new home in HoHoKus, on this side of the Atlantic Ocean.

Too much was happening at once. Mack going. The move. Getting Janie settled in a new school. Eliza didn't even want to think about finding a new housekeeper. Just to add a little something extra to the list, she had to buy a car, too. Living in Manhattan, she hadn't owned one in years. There was no need for it. She took taxis, had the KEY News driver pick her up and bring her home from work, rented a car when she wanted to get out of the city. But living in suburbia, a car was a must.

As she looked wistfully into Mack's handsome face and reached up to touch the familiar laugh lines that crinkled so appealingly at the corners of his eyes as he smiled down at her, Eliza knew in her heart she would get through the things on her list with the determination and organization that had served her so well in her life and her career. All the things she had to take care of were doable.

But not losing Mack. Not Mack. She didn't want him to leave.

“Mommy, when are we going to have the birthday
cake?” Janie's question roused Eliza from her reflections. She glanced at her watch.

“Now, my little butterfly,” she answered, picking up her daughter's hand and kissing it. “We'll have it now. Your friends' moms and dads will be coming to pick them up soon.”

Eliza was in the kitchen, putting the violet candles into the ice-cream cake when she heard the buzzer sound from the downstairs lobby. Probably one of the parents arriving a bit early. She called out for Mack to answer it.

As Eliza carried the flickering cake into the dining room to the din of childish singing, she saw, from the corner of her eye, Louise Kendall standing in the doorway with a large, brightly wrapped present in her arms. Louise had called yesterday and asked if she could come into the city to talk to Eliza about the house. When told that Janie was having a birthday party, Louise insisted she bring a gift for the child. But as much as Eliza truly liked Louise, she sensed that Janie's birthday wasn't all that high on Louise's agenda. If she was driving all the way into the city on a Saturday, her prime real-estate selling day, Eliza knew Louise had to have something important on her mind.

When the children were contentedly spooning the vanilla and chocolate ice cream through their painted lips, Eliza made her way over to Louise, giving her a welcoming kiss on the cheek.

“The kids should be gone in about fifteen minutes. Can you wait, and then we can talk in relative quiet?”

“Of course,” she answered amiably. “What can I do to help here?”

Eliza laughed, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen across her brow. “Believe it or not, I think we have everything pretty well under control.”

God, I hope we do,
thought Louise.

There were three nights of videotapes sitting on top of the VCR. That meant there was an hour and a half of pleasure ahead.

The VCR was programmed to record the KEY Television Network every weekday night at six-thirty. Even when someone was home to watch the show, the recorder still clicked on to tape
KEY Evening Headlines
with Eliza Blake.

It worked well this way. Sometimes the live broadcast moved too fast and it was necessary to replay it to catch every detail, every mannerism, every nuance in Eliza's speech. After the broadcast tapes were looked at, they were rewound to be used again. The newspaper stories reported that the recently appointed evening-news anchorwoman was garnering solid ratings. The network was heavily invested in her. Eliza was going to be around for a while.