Hello Love (18 page)

His footsteps echoed off the concrete walls as he clattered down the stairs, down and down to the next landing, and around the corner. One more flight and he’d be on the first floor. Just one more flight. With any luck, he’d catch them in the lobby.

Bursting through the door to the first floor, he was disoriented for a second trying to get his bearings. A staff member, a young man in blue scrubs, came around the corner and Dan asked, “Which way to the lobby?”

The guy gestured to the hall in front of him, and he was off, jogging the short distance to the open area, past the vacant desk that should have been occupied by the beehived woman. Dan’s head swiveled from side to side, his mind calculating the time frame between the elevator door closing and now. The woman could well be in the parking lot by now. Unless the receptionist had stopped her and they were waiting somewhere else and looking for him?

His gut told him to keep going, so he left the building and went out to the parking lot. It had become pitch-black in the short time since he’d been inside. The lights on each end of the lot were on, as well as the lights along the walkways. He stepped out and the wind hit his face, making him blink. And then he saw it, the flash of a brake light as a car left the lot and turned onto the roadway. He ran in the direction of the car, knowing he’d never catch up, but hoping he’d spot a license plate number or at least get a better look, but halfway to the road he realized it was no use. Damn. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure that car held Anni anyway. Maybe she was still in the building.

He trudged back in, feeling disheartened, hoping against hope that somehow he’d still find her. The woman with the tall gray hair was back at her station now, and his briefcase was on the floor in front of her counter, right where he’d left it. “Did you see them go by?” he asked.

Her worried look confirmed his fear. “No, did you see them?”

When Lindsay was a little girl and things weren’t going her way, she’d fall to the floor like she’d been struck, curl up into a ball, and wail. That’s what he felt like doing right at that moment. And here he’d always thought she was being overly dramatic. “I think they just left,” he said. “Why weren’t you here?” He tried not to sound accusatory, but it still crept into his voice. Where the hell did she go? How hard was it to sit at a desk for ten minutes?

“I was just in the bathroom for a minute.” Her Minnie Mouse voice was at a super high pitch now and her face crumpled like she was about to cry. “I take this water pill, and I had to go right away. It was just for a minute. I’m so sorry.”

“They must have walked right past here.” He felt his jaw clench in frustration.

“I already called the first and second floor, and I knew you were going up to the third, so I figured it was covered. I was only gone a minute.”

Only one minute. One crucial minute. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, “Don’t worry about it. Things happen.” Unfortunately the things that kept happening to him were not good. One disaster after another, it seemed.

She held up the printed sheet with Anni’s photo on it and shook it. “I’m going to make sure everyone who works here sees this. Someone has to know something. I promise you, this will make the rounds.”

Dan sighed. It wasn’t her fault someone stole his dog and it wasn’t her responsibility to find her either. Her feeling guilty wouldn’t bring Anni back to him. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “You’ve been very kind. Thank you.”

“I mean it,” she squeaked. “I will personally make sure everyone here sees this.”

“I’d appreciate it,” he said. “Tell them if they see Anni, they can call day or night. Anytime. We just want her back.”

THIRTY-FOUR

On the way home from her visit with Gram, Andrea stopped at PetShop to buy more dog food. There was probably enough in the bag to last several days, but the uncertainty of winter weather always motivated her to stock up on essential items.

The inside of the store was brightly lit and well organized. If anything had changed since her last visit, she couldn’t tell. She grabbed a cart and pulled it behind her, letting Anni walk alongside, and went straight to the food section, where Andrea grabbed a medium-size blue bag. Up at the front of the store, the teenage girl at the cash register put down her phone when they approached. “Did you find everything all right?” she asked in a monotone, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“Yes, thanks.” Andrea fished out some money, and after the girl gave her change, another thought came to mind. “Is Bruno working tonight? I was hoping to talk to him.”

The girl gave her a blank look. “Who?”

“Bruno,” Andrea said. “Old guy, bald, not much taller than me.” She held a hand up to indicate height. “He helped me pick out some dog food the last time I was here.”

“There’s no Bruno working here.”

Could she have gotten the name wrong? She’d been so certain he’d said Bruno. “Is there someone else who looks like that?”

The girl shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“About a year.”

“Okay, thanks. I guess I got it confused,” Andrea said, still puzzled, but also disappointed. She’d been looking forward to telling Bruno that he’d been right, Anni was a life changer for her. And also that the dog food had been approved by the vet. All around, his advice had been spot-on.

Driving home, it struck her. Bruno didn’t work at PetShop. He was another customer who was just being helpful. Just a nice man offering some advice. No wonder the girl had no idea who she was talking about. She felt a little foolish, but how was she supposed to know? Anyone would have assumed the same thing.

At home she lugged the bag from the car into the house and set it in the corner of the closet. As she did it, she found herself narrating her actions to Anni who followed right behind. Anyone listening would think she was insane, or else that she was one of those dog nuts who think their pet is a person. Oddly enough, Anni was taking on human qualities. There were moments she swore Anni understood what she was saying. She definitely picked up on Andrea’s moods, which was more than she could say for a lot of people.

Between work and stopping at the Phoenix Health Care Center and PetShop, it had been a long day. With the sun going down so early in the winter, the evening had a finality to it, like a deadline had come and gone. It was only seven o’clock, but it felt like bedtime. To complicate matters, she was hungry, but didn’t feel like cooking. It looked like she’d be having soup for dinner again.

Andrea was eating at the coffee table in the living room, the TV on, Anni resting with her head on Andrea’s stocking feet, when the doorbell rang. Anni lifted her head and gave her a look that said, what gives? Andrea shut off the sound and got up to look out the peephole, surprised to see her neighbor, Cliff, standing on her front stoop, his knit hat in hand like a gentleman caller. She opened the door. “Cliff? What brings you here?”

She envisioned a problem—he’d locked himself out of his place, or his pipes had burst—but he looked fairly calm for an elderly man standing out on her stoop in the cold and dark on a weeknight, like he just wandered over and wanted to make conversation. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I have an invitation.”

“An invitation?” Anni was right by her side now, her body leaning against Andrea’s leg, her nose halfway out the door. Normally Andrea would reactively reach for her collar, but Anni had shown a decided dislike to the cold weather and wouldn’t be bolting outside anytime soon.

“Yes,” Cliff said, shuffling his feet like he was trying to recall what to say. “From my lady friend, Doreen. You met her the other day? From the book club?” His voice trailed away and his eyes darted down, noticing Anni for the first time. “Well, there’s my little Muffin,” he said, reaching down to give her an enthusiastic rub behind the ears.

Andrea wasn’t sure what all of this was about, but it seemed to be taking more time than it should. By now the open door had allowed a wind tunnel to pass through her condo, probably lowering the overall temperature of the place by several degrees. “You want to come in?” Andrea fervently hoped not, so she was relieved when he shook his head.

“Nope, just dropping off the invitation.” He pulled a white envelope out from behind his hat and presented it to her with a flourish. “It’s for dinner at Doreen’s. She would be very pleased if you could make it.”

Andrea noted her name,
Andrea Keller
, written in lovely script across the front. It was the kind of cursive handwriting not taught in schools anymore. “Thanks.”

“One of the reasons it would be great if you can make it,” Cliff said, “is that I don’t usually drive at night anymore and if you’re coming, we could drive together, you see.” He was smiling uncertainly, like he wasn’t sure how she’d take it.

“Yeah, okay,” Andrea said. “I’ll have to check my calendar, of course, to make sure I don’t have anything else going on that evening. I’ll let you know later. I was just eating dinner.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, looking horrified. “I thought this would be a good time.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. The cold air kept coming and Anni, bored by the lack of action, had wandered off. Still, he hadn’t moved. “I don’t want to be rude, Cliff, but I think you’re going to have to either come inside or else go, because I’m freezing here.”

“Oh, I can’t come in,” he said, shaking his head. “I just wanted to drop off the invitation.”

They exchanged good-nights and after the door was shut, she watched him through the window to make sure he got to his unit safely.
What was that all about?
she wondered. Once Cliff was indoors, she settled back on the couch and opened the envelope. It was a card, not the flimsy kind from the dollar store, but one that had been custom printed on heavy card stock. The front was linen-colored and glossy with a monogram at its center, the initials DKR intertwined with what looked like pansies. Inside at the top was today’s date. Underneath was a short note written in gorgeous, precise handwriting.

Dear Andrea,

I hope you will forgive the impropriety of an invitation from someone you’ve only met once. Cliff speaks so highly of you that I knew you’d be an excellent addition to a small dinner party I’m hosting on Sunday at five p.m. Casual attire is fine. Cliff seems to feel that you could drive together, but if that’s not convenient, it’s not a requirement, so do not feel obligated. I really hope you can make it. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.

Fondly,

Doreen

P.S. Feel free to bring your little Muffin. I love dogs!

Doreen’s phone number was printed neatly at the bottom next to “Regrets Only.”

Well, this was certainly awkward. How was she going to get out of this? She imagined having to make small talk with strangers, and on a Sunday night too, when she was mentally getting ready for another workweek. When the weather was cold like this, she tended to stay home after dark, burrowing into her home in a way she never would during warmer temperatures. And then there was the possibility that this would start something; that she’d have to reciprocate and have them over for dinner. She barely made dinner for herself anymore. The idea of hosting a dinner party was daunting.

She knew what Jade would say. One word: go. Jade loved meeting new people. She would tell Andrea she was being antisocial, that the universe was interconnected and you never knew who you might meet. That wasting away at home was not doing her any good. All of which was true. Every time Andrea had dreaded going to a social event where she might not know anyone, it had worked out fine. Most of the time she was glad she went. She tucked the card back into the envelope. She would go. She would go, and she would drive Cliff, and she would talk to strangers, and it would be fine. Fun, even. Jade would be proud. If the universe was sending her an opportunity, she was saying hello to it. She had nothing better to do. And at least she’d have a better meal than canned soup from the microwave.

Putting the empty bowl into the sink, she decided she’d tell Cliff tomorrow. He’d be so happy.

It wasn’t until later that she dug her phone out of her purse to recharge it on the kitchen counter overnight and noticed she had a message. Nonchalantly she touched the screen to listen, flinching when she heard Marco’s voice. “Andrea?” he said. “Andrea, I have made a terrible mistake.” There was a long pause and Andrea thought that might be it, but he started up again. “I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t understand it myself. It was like I lost my mind. I wasn’t myself. I was unhappy with myself and I convinced myself I was unhappy with you, but I was wrong. So, so wrong. If I could have one wish, it would be to go back and have things the way they were before when we were together. I miss you. I miss being your husband. I need you. Please call me.” His voice broke up at the end, as if he were about to break into sobs. “Please. It would make me so happy to talk to you. Just give me a chance. I’m dying here. I love you.”

This was one of those times Andrea wished she didn’t live alone. She’d love to have had someone else there to call over and say, “Check this out. Can you believe him?” This was a side of Marco seldom seen. He either was a good actor or he was truly heartbroken. A few months ago she may have felt sorry for him. It would have given her poor ego a boost anyway, knowing she was missed.

She played the message back again, and then twice more. The last time she noted all the times he used the word “I.” Typical. All of it was about him, and how he felt. Even his apology was more about him than about her. He didn’t claim responsibility for how he’d savaged their marriage, how he’d nearly caused her to have a breakdown. For the longest time she’d felt like she was hanging on by a thread and now, more than a year later, he’d changed his mind, realized his mistake? Too little, too late. Life didn’t work like that. You couldn’t just tear someone down and throw them out like garbage, then come back more than a year later saying never mind, let’s go back to the way things were. At least that’s not how it worked with her. She deleted the message, plugged the phone in, and went to bed.