Next To You (8 page)

Well, hello there, Caroline!
Yes, it was true. She stood in the middle of her kitchen, enveloped in Italian wool, her eyes closed, having a good sniff of something that belonged to a man she hardly knew, and she was getting turned on.

It was a hilarious indication a disused part of her life was beginning to stretch its legs. Caroline smiled at her own idiocy, and returned the jacket to the hanger. She went back out to the terrace with a glass of pink grapefruit juice. Batman followed.

Near the edge of the hip-high wall, she looked out to the few trees beginning to change color. Garnet and topaz leaves fluttered in the light breeze, and her thoughts drifted to her father.

Her dad always slipped into her mind whenever she saw anything jewel-colored, because he’d been a jeweler and precious stone merchant. She’d learned a lot from him about gems, where they came from, and had a piece of jewelry in every color stone imaginable.

She drained her juice, had a seat on the edge of the wall, set the glass beside her, and pulled an earring from her left ear. The stone was emerald-cut, an iolite the lightest hue of purplish-blue, almost-but-not-quite the palest shade of tanzanite.

Iolites were interesting. Vikings who had sailed and explored the world had used iolite as a navigation tool to look at the sun’s position without going blind. With his extremely pale complexion, William Murphy looked something like a Viking, but to navigate his way through life, he had to avoid the sun and wear tinted glasses to shield eyes that were sometimes the same color as the stone she held in her fingers.

Combining those two ideas, Viking and cool color, led to images of Will in a horned helmet, the kind she’d associated since childhood to Bugs Bunny dressed as a Wagnerian Brunhilde. She saw William Murphy, complete with breastplate and flaxen braids, singing opera on his terrace, like an albino Elmer Fudd.

O Bwoonhiwda, yoh so wuv-we …

It was one of those silly songs she used to sing to Drew. She had pushed that memory from her mind long ago, but thinking of William sitting on a fat white horse, tossing rose petals as he performed an aria, made her laugh out loud.

She laughed and laughed. It hurt her sides, her eyes watered, she took in huge gulps of air until the dog let out a single bark. Cackling, she glanced at Batman sniffing at the ivy-covered trellis. His little black and white back body crouched forward in a play bow, his skinny tail wagging, whipping.

She replaced her earring, wiped her eyes, and followed the dog’s playful movement. In between leaves, she saw William on the other side of the lattice.

‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to startle you in the middle of a private joke and lose you over the side of the building.’

‘Thanks for being so thoughtful.’ Caroline hopped off the wall and moved to the trellis, trying to get a better view of him through the ivy. All she saw was a dark blue lapel and his fingers poking low through the greenery. Batman licked them. She started laughing all over again.

‘What’s so funny?’

Caroline giggled. ‘You ever see that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Elmer Fudd sings
kill the wabbit
to Wagner’s
Ride of the Valkyries?
’

‘That’s
What’s Opera Doc
.’

‘Yeah, that’s the one. I was just … thinking about it.’

‘It’s classic Warner Brothers. Personally, I prefer
The Rabbit of Seville
. Sometimes, when I shave, I think of Bugs taking off Elmer’s five o’clock shadow with a little lawn mower.’

She giggled again. ‘I have something for you,’ she said, moving from the ivy. ‘I’ll bring it over.’

‘What is it, a little lawn mower I can use to shave off my five o’clock shadow? Hair tonic that’ll make my scalp spout flowers?’

Inside, Caroline put her glass in the sink. She took the jacket from the hanger in the kitchen, folded it over her arm, and took it across the landing to his place. Rather than knocking, she waited, and listened for his footfalls, for sound of movement inside his apartment.

She heard nothing until he opened the door. He smelled even better in person than his jacket had wrapped around her body.
Well, hello there, Caroline!

‘I left that on your terrace, didn’t I?’ he said.

‘I may have saved it from the certain doom of Batman’s teeth, but it has a bit of his hair all over it.’

Besides the big grin and Tom Ford suit, William also wore a pair of silver wire-framed glasses with blue tinted lenses. ‘Tell me something … I’m sorry, please come in.’ He stepped back, holding the door wider for her to pass. She went in and stood beside the Edwardian coatrack, handing him his jacket. Without a glance at the garment, he hung it on the rack, and walked backward, leading her into his home.

The layout of his large apartment was a mirror image of hers. The front door opened into a small foyer that spread out into a large living room with a curving bank of bay windows. The long hallway ran past two bedrooms and bathroom. Further along were the dining room and kitchen. The master bedroom, which included an attached bathroom, sat just off the dining room. Like her place, his bedroom had a set of French doors that led out to the terrace.

With a peek down the hall, Caroline noted that his white and black kitchen had butcher-block finished countertops. The interior of her place was a buttery yellow. His was a sage green. They both had gleaming birch floors scattered with rugs, and while her furnishings were striped or floral, his were rich browns mixed with shades of deep greens and reds.

In the living room, William sank onto the long end of a wide, L-shaped, mocha-colored couch. Caroline perched on the edge of the matching ottoman and gaped at his entertainment system setup. ‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘That thing is huge. It’s the biggest TV I have ever seen.’

‘Don’t believe anyone who says size doesn’t matter. Would you like some coffee?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve met my two cup quota this morning, but thank you.’

‘Tell me,’ he frowned. ‘Did I offend you in any way last night? With my rosé-colored glasses I’m afraid I may have painted a few of the neighbors with a bit more color than necessary.’

‘You were a polite, perfect gentleman, and we drank Chianti, didn’t we?’

‘Hmm, I was afraid of that too.’

‘Of Chianti?’

‘No, of being a perfect gentleman.’

‘Why is that bad?’

Will smiled. He didn’t think he was flirting, like he had last night—and he had flirted last night—but that was only because this was so easy; it was as if he’d known her for two years, not two days. That feeling was rare, and he appreciated the instantaneous camaraderie. He thought she did too. ‘My
conservative
attire, saying please and thank you, and offering ladies my seat on the bus, often gives the impression I don’t know how to have fun, and I had fun last night. I was hoping you did too.’

‘I had a horrid time,’ she said, making a horrid face.

‘How can you say that when I let you wash dishes?’ He shook his head, and then smiled. ‘I never had a friend who lived next door like Lucy had Ethel, like Ralph had Norton, like Jerry had Kramer.’

‘You left out Monica and Joey.’

‘All right, all right. Like Monica had Joey. You know, I like to think one day I may be able to barge into your apartment, eat all your ice cream, or complain about something.’

‘I get the impression you never complain.’

‘You should hear my very un-gentlemanly whining sometimes.’

‘I also get the impression you watch a lot of TV.’

‘A kid’s gotta have a friend he can depend on, especially a much-maligned albino kid.’ He sat up straight. ‘So how’s my attire today? Conservative enough for you?’

Caroline looked him up and down, inspecting his dark blue Tom Ford three-piece. For a half second Will thought she was checking him out, but she was merely examining the cut of his suit. ‘You’ll do,’ she said. ‘Do you ride to work on a motorcycle dressed like that?’

‘Hell, no! It’s safety first. I wear leathers, and keep a few suits at work for the days I ride in. This morning, my boss Quincy’s picking me up. We’re going to a building site down near Hyde Park.’

‘You’re going to a construction site in a hand-stitched suit and silk tie?’

‘Quincy’s the one who gets dirty. I just stand there in a hard hat, in the shade, and listen. I’m a very good listener.’

‘Do you
ever
get dirty, William?’ Caroline hoped he would say no. There was enough grime leftover on her from her extended winter’s nap to last for years. She liked how his while skin seemed so sparkling fresh. Maybe being near him would eliminate her dullness the same way adding bluing to whites brought back their brightness.

‘I may get a little dust-coated,’ he said. ‘But it’s my job to keep things as tidy as possible. I take care of what I can, and brush myself off at the end of the day. Most of the time I’m in my office, out of the sun, looking out the window, wondering,’ he took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses with a handkerchief, ‘what I’m going to have for lunch. I get paid quite a bit of money to do that.’

With a laugh, Caroline glanced at the dark mantle clock sitting above the fireplace. ‘I need to get moving if I want to get the bus.’ She rose. ‘Hey, you wouldn’t have a Phillips screwdriver I could borrow, would you? I bought a dog door for Batman, but I haven’t been able to find any of the tools I kept from husband’s toolbox. I’ll have to leave the terrace door open again until I can install the flap.’

It was hard to believe that Alex was pissed off about her having some of his tools, but Will supposed some men got that way, possessive with their things and possessive with their women. The thing was, if you wanted out of a relationship, you got out of a relationship and left the bitterness and emotional baggage behind. Granted, not everyone broke up as amiably as he and Yvonne had. They’d been a lousy married couple, yet they remained close friends. Amiable certainly made everything so much less complicated. It also it offered them both a particular kind of soft, close friendship, an uncomplicated sort of reliability. He was a huge fan of uncomplicated.

And his new neighbor was anything but uncomplicated.

‘I’ll bring my toolbox by tonight,’ Will said, reminding himself how much he liked uncomplicated.

Half an hour later, he sat in the passenger seat of Quincy’s Jag, his legs bunched up and his thoughts on his toolbox, domestic violence, and Caroline. His mind wandered back to earlier, as she’d sat on the terrace wall drinking her juice. She’d looked pretty in the light of a newly risen sun, all muted pink and soft orange, with a tinge of palest lavender. She was his pretty new neighbor, and a pretty old complication for someone else.

‘Murphy,’ Quincy’s elbow nudged his. ‘Are you awake this morning?’

‘Sorry. I was woolgathering.’

‘Evidently.’

Will said, ‘You know I have a new neighbor.’

‘Did someone in your building die or split up?’

‘Neither. John Reginaldi, the golf pro across the hall, moved into a retirement community on one of his golf courses. His niece moved in.’

Quincy glanced at his friend and nodded. ‘Oh, that’s right. You were concerned you’d get a yuppie couple or crabby old witch with ten cats.’

‘She has a dog.’

‘Did the dog keep you up last night?’

‘No, I slept fine.’

‘Then why are you asleep now?’

‘I wasn’t sleeping, I was just thinking.’

A little laugh popped from Quincy’s mouth. ‘What’s she look like?’

‘Who?’

‘Reg’s niece, the neighbor you’re thinking about.’ Quincy let in the clutch and stopped at the lights.

‘She’s pretty, I guess.’

‘You
guess
?’

‘Okay, she’s very attractive and probably a good twelve, maybe fifteen years younger. She’s a personal shopper. Turns out she’s
my
personal shopper.’

‘What’s a personal shopper?’

Will half turned in his seat. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never used a personal shopper. Wait a minute. What am I saying? I’ve been your personal shopper for several decades.’

Quincy looked at him and shrugged. ‘What’s a personal shopper?’

‘Like a personal assistant and a fashion stylist who picks out your clothes, and gets gifts for you to give to other people because you’re too pressed for time to shop for yourself. Sound familiar?’

‘You’ve
never
assisted me with choosing my clothes.’ The lights changed. Quincy accelerated. ‘What does your personal shopper look like … and does she have a name?’

‘Caroline. She’s a little taller than your daughter-in-law, Sara—hazel eyes, sort of honey blonde, but without too much red. Very slim, too skinny really, but she’s quite attractive.’

‘Does this mean you’re interested?’

‘How could I be interested? I just met her.’

‘You’ve got to start at square one, don’t you? You’ve got to be friendly and get to know her, you can’t just skip ahead.’

‘Well, where’s the fun in that?’

‘From what I remember before Erika, there’s
a lot
of fun in that.’ Quincy nudged his shoulder.

‘Even if I was interested, there’s a huge obstacle to overcome.’

‘What, you mean like Yvonne finally coming back to you for good?’

Will raised an eye. ‘I was not aware you and my sister shared the same misguided theory.’

‘Come on, man, Rebecca knows—hell, we all know—you’ve lived the last thirty years thinking your ex-wife will come back to you for good.’

‘This isn’t about Vonnie.’ Will laughed.

‘Did I just piss you off?’

‘I laughed. Does that sound pissed off to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

Quincy made a right turn. ‘Okay. What is it then, that she’s younger? So what.’

‘What makes you think her age is the obstruction?’

‘So it
is
Yvonne, then?’ Quincy pulled into the muddy construction site and switched off the Jag’s engine.

This time Will snorted.

They got out of the car at the same time. A moment later, Will handed Quincy a blue hard hat. The man put it on and said, ‘I know you’re so accustomed to your appearance drawing attention you don’t even think about it, but maybe inside you’re worried how a younger, little blonde number on your arm might magnify that attention.’