Perfect on Paper (19 page)

“Hmmm,” Nadine said. “I might have changed my views on marriage.”

“You? I don’t believe it. You had your wedding gown picked out when you were seven years old. Don’t you remember how you told me when we were on our first date?”

“Yeah, that was me then. Lately, I haven’t felt the same way about it. I like living alone. I like doing my own thing, coming home in the evenings and working on a piece in the garage.”

“You’re really into this furniture thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. I mean, I make a lot of money now. We could afford for you to just do that. And it wouldn’t even matter if you sold a lot. You could do it during the day and we could spend the evenings together.”

“You’ve really given this some thought, haven’t you?”

“Nadine, what’s it going to take? I want you back.”

“I need more time to think about it.”

“Then kiss me, take a few days and go out with me on Friday.”

“Why are you so convincing and confusing at the same time?”

He leaned over the gift bag and came so close that he almost kissed her. They both knew she had to be the one. He closed his eyes. She had to make a choice. Give him another chance—or close a door on him forever.

She kissed him.

* * * *

Once she was alone, she opened the gift bag. Inside, also wrapped in green, there was another package. She cursed Allan for having held onto this for so long. There had been times when she would have given anything for a letter or memento from her grandfather, her kindred spirit.

Gingerly, as though she was touching something that had survived a fire, she slowly peeled back the clear tape from the paper. In her hands, she held a wooden box, about half the size of an average shoebox. She attempted to open it but it was locked. She knew where to find the key, for he had given it to her himself several years before.

All these years, she’d kept the mystery key, a key she had assumed to be ornamental, on the same gold chain that it had come with. In all those years, she’d never imagined that she would one day need it. This was overwhelming and she could not fight back the tears. She felt her grandpa’s presence with her now, how he’d always loved surprising her, and it was almost as though he was watching over her as she ran to her bedroom to search through her jewelry box.

The key fit perfectly. She turned it. There was a click. When she opened it, she couldn’t believe what she saw.

Chapter Seventeen

Nestled in the box were stacks of hundred dollar bills, more than she’d ever seen before in her life. It was like something out of a drug smuggling or bank heist thriller, and it frightened her so much that she had to close the box for a moment to calm herself down. She looked around as though to make sure that she was alone in her living room. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Her hands trembled and she felt her throat go dry.

Opening the lid again, she noticed that, taped to the top of the inside, there was a letter. She took it out and carefully opened the envelope. Crisp browned paper that felt like parchment paper came out. Gently, she unfolded it and started to read.

My dear Nadine,

If you are reading this, you are likely married, so I must begin by offering my congratulations. He’s a good man, Allan. Forget what I said about not settling too soon and waiting for the one. I was probably on morphine when I gave you the advice.

As for what you see in this box, I have one single request. You must use this money to follow your heart, even if you want to do something everyone tells you is crazy. It doesn’t matter. Life is about the risks we take. Nadine, I have always wanted a life of passion for you. Promise me that you will let yourself follow your dreams with this money.

Your loving granddaddy and kindred spirit,

Winston

Nadine wept. She closed the box with the letter folded back up and placed neatly inside, as though she needed to constrain everything. She held the box in her arms like it was her favorite doll from when she was little. Cradled in her arms, she caressed the smooth wood as the tears flowed. When she held the box to her nose, she could smell that familiar beeswax scent, a combination of orange peel and a hint of spice. It was the scent she associated with his shop and she felt his presence with her in the dark room. She knew she was not alone, that she shared this very moment with her kindred spirit, and she was confident that if he was there with her in person, he would tell her that everything was okay, and so she told herself that it was and tried to believe it. How complicated grieving was. Still now, nearly two years later, she felt a terrible void whenever she craved the guidance that only Grandpa Winston could give.

To comfort herself, Nadine turned to the one soothing experience that never failed to delight. The treat that most reminded her of Grandpa Winston was hot chocolate, so she went to the kitchen, hoping that she had canned milk in the cupboard. She did.

Out came the milk and she opened a different cupboard and found the instant hot chocolate mix, but as soon as she held the circular jar in her hand, she knew it wasn’t exactly what she wanted. She’d been forever corrupted by David when it came to hot chocolate. She happened to have a bag of dark chocolate chips from that time her mother came over to bake cookies last Christmas. This was not going to be quite as good as the hot chocolate on the mountain with David, but it’d be a close second and a massive leap from the instant stuff she grew up with.

If only Grandpa Winston could taste this, she thought as she stirred the chocolate chips in a glass bowl on top of a pot of boiling water. She added the melted chocolate to a small saucepan of heated milk and whisked the two together. She was overwhelmed that her grandfather wanted to share his money with her, and how wise he was to tell her to follow her dreams. There were so many clues in the letter to analyze, so much to think about. She wondered about Mrs. Barlow now. It puzzled her that he had wanted her to maintain close contact with her, but it made sense. She had been naïve before. But she began to piece together the hints that begged to coincide with each other in the form of her grandfather’s life story. He had married young. Her dad’s older sister, Aunt Freda, had been born just six months after the wedding. There had been references to this at family reunions, late at night, after wine.

And she remembered how Grandpa Winston had always admonished against marrying young. To Nadine, her grandfather had seemed to like Allan, but he didn’t like the idea of her marrying the first guy she was in love with. He told her so on numerous occasions.
When it’s young
, he used to say,
the heart doesn’t know what it wants. You have to wait until the heart knows what it wants
.

He was a wise one. That was for sure. The hot chocolate was soothing. She sat at her kitchen table and took sip after careful sip, blowing the steam away gently. The box sat, closed, in front of her. She couldn’t count the money. Not yet.

But, as though his spirit had taken her and given her a good shake, she knew exactly what to do with the money.

* * * *

David hadn’t heard from Nadine in days and his mind obsessed over the craving he felt to call her. This was not common for him. Girls had a way of coming and going in his life, but this was no girl. Nadine was not only the beautiful goddess of the bookstore, she might very well be his soulmate. His mind raced with thoughts like this and more.

Worse still were the memories that flooded his senses. Sometimes it felt as though he could still taste her on his tongue, like there had been some kind of permanent imprinting that called him back to her, the way he’d once read in a Nigerian poem that those who drank from this particular river in Nigeria would always remember and would always want to return. It had mystified him, when he’d read that poem in some dusty library many years ago. The meaning had eluded him. Now he understood.

He had to rationalize several times a day that she wasn’t calling because she was busy, not because she’d forgotten about him. He’d wanted—badly, he realized as he obsessed over each moment—to come across as cool when she visited. Most especially, he had not wanted to come off as jealous. What he had said was true at the time. He was not prone to jealousy. But he had, of course, been speaking about other girls and purely hypothetical situations.

He wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t in him to want to control her actions and he knew, fundamentally, that he had to give her absolute freedom. Only then would he know that if she returned to him, she really wanted to be with him. He didn’t want to put conditions on her. Not now. Not ever. It wasn’t the vision he had for the kind of relationship he wanted. He had felt in his heart that they had a connection that transcended the physical. Perhaps he had overshot, driven there by his profound attraction for her, but nevertheless, he refused to call. She must have space, he figured. She had stuff to figure out. Here was this guy who’d come back to town, who wanted to see her, who had a history with her, and she had to come to terms with that. It was not for him to put extra pressure on her.

David stopped himself from dwelling. Instead, he threw himself into his studies. He read Thoreau and tried to imagine himself in a cabin in the woods, but every time he conjured the image, he found himself wondering if Nadine would visit.

He listened to music, but all the lyrics reminded him of Nadine. His roommates even began to suspect.

“Dude,” Chris said one night, banging on his door. “What’s up with you, man?”

“Nothing, why?”

“You’re just in your room all the time is all. You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” David didn’t want to get into it. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t have the words and he didn’t want advice, especially from Chris, who had never even been in love.

“Well, we’re watching
Lord of the Rings
. Come out and watch with us. We have pizza.”

It was what David needed. Distraction.

But even the movie failed to keep his mind off Nadine, especially Liv Tyler, who bore a striking resemblance to her, now that he looked. There was something equally ethereal and spritely about Nadine, like she wasn’t of this world, he thought as they watched the movie in darkness.

He had to let her come back on her own. If there was one thing he didn’t want, it was to coerce Nadine into anything. If she wanted him, she’d come back for him. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t. It was that simple.

And the sooner David got her out of his mind and focused on his other goals, the better. He called up Nick.

“Hey, man, about the hair,” he said. “I’m ready.”

* * * *

Nadine needed to clear her head. Too much had happened in too short a time. From work, she called up the nursing home where Mrs. Bronstein lived and asked if she could bring Duchess by for a visit. The superintendent said that she’d be most welcome and they scheduled a time for later that afternoon.

Nadine showed up just after four. The sign out front said ‘Shady Grove Manor’ and the sliding glass doors that opened for her and Duchess seemed welcoming. Everything in the lobby was neat and clean, though there was the unmistakable smell of the elderly. It was a combination of Lily of the Valley, dust and medication. There were residents sitting around in the lobby, half asleep. She asked for Mrs. Bronstein at the front counter.

“Down the hall, to the left,” the doorperson said. “Room one-oh-nine.”

Nadine could see the excitement in Duchess’ wagging tail. She knew. Nadine knocked on the door and waited. After a few minutes she knocked again and heard a faint “Just a minute” from the other side.

The door opened and a little lady yelled out, “Duchess!”

Duchess entered immediately and the woman bent down to rub the dog on the top of her head. Duchess panted and whimpered.

Mrs. Bronstein was a frail-looking stylish woman with a colorful turban and a kimono. “Come in,” she said.

Her room was reminiscent of the seventies with orange dome lamps and psychedelic paintings on the wall. She even had a beaded curtain that she hobbled through. Nadine followed her.

“Thank you for bringing my Duchess for a visit. You are an angel. Please, sit down.”

She gestured to an orange vinyl sofa. Nadine tried not to overreact to the funky retro look of the place, but she couldn’t help but look around in fascination.

“Duchess is such a great dog,” she said. “I’m sorry you couldn’t bring her with you.”

Mrs. Bronstein shook her head. “You get to be my age and it’s too much work. I’m glad she’s got a good home—and Duke, too.”

“Duke found a home?” Nadine’s heart practically leapt out of her chest at the news.

“Yes. A young gentleman took him. A real saint, he is. You know, Duke had some health problems.” She rubbed her finger and forefinger together to suggest the counting of money. “It wasn’t going to be cheap for the new owner and honestly, I didn’t think he’d make it. I’m just overjoyed. He’s doing fine, though. Came to see me yesterday afternoon. Such a fine young man.”

“Wow, that’s so nice. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it,” Nadine said. “If I were in a different position financially, I’d have taken both. I mean, they’re a real pair.”

“That they are. Never separated, you know.”

“So I heard.”

“Well, dear, tell me about yourself.” She got comfortable in her sitting chair. “Would you like a cup of tea? You’ll have to make it, but it’s the good stuff. I got it at a tea shop. And I have cookies, too.”

This was exactly what Nadine needed—a little maternal guidance from a woman who had a bong on her shelf, right next to her collection of Gloria Steinem and Alice Walker books.

“Yes, please. I’ll put on the kettle.”

Nadine filled the small kettle in the washroom by using the tea cup as a scoop for the water. Mrs. Bronstein did indeed have an elaborate tea collection, including a slotted spoon in which to lay loose leaf tea. She was either a connoisseur herself or her children were.