After Office Hours

by E Caroline Wilson

  David took in the tasteful furnishings of the living room. The solid yellow sofa, in a nubby fabric, had roll arms and a wood frame. The living room walls were painted peach, and the paintings on the wall featured nautical and beach themes. The good sun exposure and airy color scheme made him feel as though he just stepped into one of the summer days that still lay ahead. The flat screen television that rested upon a wide stand was turned to one of those women’s networks, with the channel’s logo not so discreetly displayed in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. Amparo had probably been watching television, enjoying her lovely apartment on her day off. He felt terrible for disrupting her, and he hoped they had another television in the bedroom.

  From his seat on the sofa, he was able to see the kitchen, which was just inside the door. It appeared modern, if compact, with granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. Not surprisingly, given Amparo’s profession, the apartment looked immaculate. The rust-colored area rug that covered most of the living room didn’t have so much as a speck of lint.

  “Hi.”

  He looked up to see a beaming Devin, dressed in those pants women wore that were longer than shorts and shorter than trousers, in navy. She looked very nautical in a blue-and-white lightweight sweater in a part-stripe, part-block pattern with three-quarter sleeves. She wore impossibly bright white socks and equally bright white gym shoes. A compact leather shoulder bag hung from one of her shoulders, and from the other, a pink quilted overnight bag with a tan leather bow.

  He got to his feet. “Hi! You look great, as usual.”

  “Thanks. I, um, figured I’d better bring a change of clothes. I didn’t know if the restaurants out there have dress codes, so I brought a little dress and a pair of shoes just in case.”

  Relief poured over David like a warm shower. “I’m glad you thought of that. I was going to make that suggestion. I thought you might like to take a walk on the beach, and that could get a little sloppy, what with the sand and all.”

  “Great. In that case, I’m ready.”

  He stood. “Okay. Let’s hit the road.”

  “Bye, Mama!” she called. “I’ll give you a call when we arrive. And don’t wait up. It’ll probably be late when I get in.”

  “Okay,” Amparo’s voice floated into the room. “Have fun.”

  “Goodbye, Amparo,” David called out.

  “Adios, Mr. Andrews.”

  *****

  “I don’t think your mother likes the idea of your going out with me,” he remarked as they waited for the elevator.

  The embarrassed look on Devin’s face told him he’d been correct. “She’s upset with me for breaking up with Joe. She thinks very highly of him, because she doesn’t know what he did to me. If I wasn’t so ashamed, I would’ve told her.”

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Devin.” They stepped into the elevator, and once he saw they were alone he continued speaking. “Sex is a natural human urge, and it’s one of life’s great pleasures. But it should be kept private. The fact that it wasn’t isn’t your doing. He’s the one who did wrong by posting it online.” Aware that he had broached a sensitive topic—and also not wanting her to ask if he’d seen her video—he rushed on without waiting for her to acknowledge his words. “I just hope your mother doesn’t stay angry at me. She’s a nice lady, and I respect her. I hate to think of her losing any respect she might have for me.”

  “I’m sure she’ll get over it,” Devin said as she exited the elevator on the ground floor. “I told her it’s just one day. It makes sense for you and me to celebrate together. We both have reasons to be happy, me because of the compensation I’ll get, and you because you negotiated a settlement. Plus, I’ll have a job over the next three months while I decide what I want to do.”

  She stopped at the inner vestibule door, waiting for him to open it for her. The action surprised David somewhat. Instantly he felt ashamed. The downtown women he dated did the same thing. It wasn’t right for him to presume that just because Devin was black, she would be unaware of the little niceties men were supposed to do for women. Gentlemen, just like scoundrels, came in all colors and nationalities, and a man could actually be both a gentleman and a scoundrel. Just because that Joe character had done a despicable thing to Devin after she broke up with him didn’t mean he hadn’t treated her like the lady she was during their relationship.

  He opened both doors for her, the inner vestibule and also the door that led to the street. “I parked on the next block,” he said. “I’d, uh, offer to carry your bag for you—”

  She laughed, a lovely tinkling sound. “I wouldn’t hear of it. Maybe if it was black, or tan, but pink with a bow? Besides, it isn’t heavy. It’s not like I packed for three days.”

  David suppressed a smile. He could only wish they’d be gone for three days…

  Chapter 8

  Devin noticed the admiring looks she got from the women they passed on the way to David’s car. She wasn’t much for distinguishing one car model from the next, but she saw the ‘L’ on the front grille and knew it stood for Lexus. The black car had sporty design, but wasn’t a two-seater… not that anyone over four feet tall could be comfortable in that compact back seat. David took her bag and tossed it in the back, next to an expensive-looking cognac-colored leather overnight bag. She felt proud of herself for making the decision to pack a change of clothes.

  She tried not to think about the items she’d tossed into the bag at the last minute…or the reasons behind it.

  She watched the scenery as David drove north, getting on the Cross Bronx Expressway and taking the exit for the bridge that would bring them to Long Island. “You know, every time I see the Throgs Neck Bridge, I wonder what a throg is,” she joked.

  “I wish I had an answer for you, but I haven’t the faintest idea. The only bridge name that names sense to me is the Triboro, because it links three boroughs: the Bronx, Manhattan, and Queens. I can’t tell you how the Whitestone Bridge got its name, either.”

  David’s car was equipped with satellite radio. He told Devin to listen to whatever she wanted, and she skimmed through the channels, stopping at what turned out to be an old-fashioned radio comedy show starring a pre-I Love Lucy Lucille Ball. “I always loved Lucy,” she said. “But this show has somebody else playing her husband, not Desi. I liked him, too. He was really handsome in the early shows, and Latinos have never been a big presence on TV, not then and not now.”

  “That’s something I don’t know about you, Devin. I know you’re Latina, but from which country?”

  “I’m from here, but my parents were both born in Santo Domingo.”

  “Ah…Dominican Republic, right?”

  “That’s right. Have you ever been there?”

  “Actually, no. My parents have a condo on St. Croix, and that’s where we usually went.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at her. “So you were born here?”

  “Yes. My parents’ marriage broke up when I was three. My father went home to Santo Domingo. I barely remember him. He was killed in a car crash a few years after that.”

  “And your mother never remarried? She’s such a pretty woman.” He smiled at her across the console. “You look a lot like her.”

  “Thanks. No, she’s never remarried, but she’s had boyfriends over the years. Her latest has been around the last couple of years. He’s very nice, treats her like a queen. I like him a lot.” She grew silent. Rafael Garcia was in love with her mother, and she suspected he wanted to marry her. She knew Mama would marry Rafael in a heartbeat, but one thing stopped her: Mama wouldn’t leave me high and dry in an apartment I can’t afford to keep on my own.

  Devin felt terribly guilty to know she stood in the way of her mother’s happiness…

  *****

  During the long ride, Devin learned that David also enjoyed rock music—not hard rock, which she considered pure noise, but classic 70s rock. Devin was familiar with many of the songs that played—Hello It’s Me, Hotel
California, Laughter in the Rain—but there was another song she’d never heard previously that she found quite appealing. According to the text on the dashboard, the song was recorded by an artist named Neil Young and was called Only Love Can Break Your Heart. The artist had high-pitched, rather thin vocals, but something in the lyrics spoke to her. Not only the oft-repeated title refrain, but about being sure from the start, and the possibility of one’s world falling apart.

  She knew then that she was in love with David Andrews, and that she faced a very real danger of having her heart broken…the very thing her mother had warned about.

  Even after David switched the station to the smooth jazz they both enjoyed—joking that after singing at the top of his lungs he could use a little instrumental music—the haunting lyrics of the song stayed with her as they sped further and further away from the city.

  The moderately heavy traffic thinned considerably by the time David took an exit ramp off the Long Island Expressway. Devin’s eyes stayed glued to the window at the scenery of Montauk Highway. She could hardly believe they were less than two hours out from the noise and congestion of the city. It seemed like another world entirely. No tall buildings, just homes and businesses with a real small-town feel…bowling alleys, beer distributorships, ice cream parlors, hardware stores, all independent small businesses. She didn’t see a single national chain.

  They drove over a drawbridge, at which point the scent of salt filled Devin’s nostrils. That, along with the impressive homes she saw lining the right-hand side of the street as they drove east, told her they were at the ocean. She wasn’t able to actually see the water; high sand dunes prevented that. Strangely, only the street closest to the ocean was lined with homes. The opposite side had large areas of a mixture of sand and wheat-high grass, with only an occasional home. Maybe the ground in that area, bordered by the bay they’d crossed on the drawbridge, was too marshy to support buildings.

  On the side lined with homes Devin noticed an occasional small parking lot with wooden ramps and staircases climbing up over the dunes, presumably going down toward the beach on the other side. “Those parking lots are so small,” she said to David, “and there’s no street parking. Everyone doesn’t live within walking distance of the beach. Where do they all park?”

  “Oh, there’s enough parking for everyone, when you consider these are residents-only beaches. You have to have a Town of Southampton sticker on your car. Anyone else has to either walk to the beach or be dropped off and picked up.”

  “Oh.”

  “The summer people are given stickers, even though many of the houses for rent have pools. But this isn’t a state park, like Jones Beach,” he further clarified. “All the houses have their own private pathways to the beach.”

  “What about the beach itself? Are people not allowed to walk on the sections behind the houses?”

  “Most of the homeowners have fenced in their property, so beachgoers can walk anywhere.”

  Devin tried to soak up the information like a sponge. Before she left here tonight, she wanted to know all about this playground of the rich and famous. “So is this Southampton?”

  “No, this is the village of Quogue, but it’s part of Southampton. The village itself only has about a thousand full-time residents, so most of the villages are included with either Southampton or East Hampton.”

  “Oh, I see. Is your family’s house right on the ocean?” she asked.

  “Yes, it faces the ocean. Houses on the other side of the street face the bay.”

  Devin couldn’t suppress her gasp when David pulled into a long driveway, at the end of which, on a bluff, stood an imposing, two-story colonial home, its ordinary-looking brown shingles in contrast with its large size. A tennis court was at street level on the right-hand side of the driveway.

  “So,” she said as David drove up the driveway, her eyes on the tennis court, “are you a good tennis player?”

  “Fair. If anything, it keeps me in shape. When I’m in the city, I play racquetball at a gym.” He braked to a stop in front of the house and turned a curious face to her. “Do you play?”

  “Oh, certainly,” she replied in a high-pitched, hoity-toity voice. “We have tennis courts on our estate up in Tarrytown.”

  David wasn’t amused. “There are such a thing as public courts, Devin. Isn’t that where the Williams sisters learned to play?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She felt chastised.

  For a few seconds they sat in the car, staring at one another, the tension thick.

  David broke the silence. “I know you didn’t grow up with the same privileges I had, Devin,” he said with quiet dignity. “But successful people don’t let being poor stop them. Maybe you haven’t invented a cure for cancer, but you’ve been successful in your own way. Just remember, pre-judgments can and do run both ways.”

  He was right, she realized. She would’ve been annoyed if he displayed the attitude that she couldn’t possibly know anything about tennis, simply based on her ethnicity.

  They got out of the car. “Oh, David,” she said in a carefully controlled voice, looking at the large house. “This is just lovely.”

  “More of Great-Grandpa’s doing.”

  “Your great-grandfather, huh?” Devin looked at the modern design of the house. “When was it built?”

  David pulled into a parking space near the foot of divided staircase. “It looks a little old-fashioned on the outside, but it was built in nineteen thirty-nine. Great-Grandpa bought the land right after a big hurricane in ‘thirty-eight, when the price dropped. A lot of folks with homes here got washed out to sea in that storm. But it’s been remodeled several times in the last eighty years and looks completely different than it did when it was first built.”

  They both got out of the car and grabbed their bags from the back seat. Devin was out of breath by the time she climbed the stairs that led to the front door. She could only stand with her mouth open when David unlocked the front door, revealing a huge double-height living room, brightened with light from floor-to-ceiling windows and three skylights in the ceiling. Through the windows at the rear she saw a large swimming pool filled with sparkling blue water.

  “So what was Great-Grandpa Andrews, anyway,” she said, “some kind of robber baron?”

  David laughed. “Nothing as exciting as that. He made his fortune in home heating oil. Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “I’ll show you around.”

  Devin mentally counted off the number of bedrooms, which totaled six, each with an attached bathroom. Two bedrooms were downstairs, the other four upstairs, and all of them had fabulous views of either the ocean or the bay, depending on whether the windows faced front or back.

  Devin tried not to look awestruck. She’d always known that New York’s population included super wealthy people, but she had to wonder if Britain’s royal family lived this well. Having the Atlantic Ocean right beyond your backyard was practically inconceivable for a girl from the projects. As much as she respected Mama’s opinion, she would have been crazy to turn down this invitation to see firsthand how the other half lived.

  But it was the grounds, that tennis court out front and the pool in the back, that took her breath away. A huge patio surrounded the pool, paved with concrete that appeared to have been made of thousands of tiny pebbles in a lovely shade of pale pink. Lounge chairs with plush cushions faced the pool, which seemed to be a perfect square and had a Jacuzzi at one end. A wooden ramp extended from the patio, with stairs going over the sand dunes to the beach on the other side. Devin had never seen anything like this, not even in the movies. “Can we look at the beach?” she said to David.

  “Sure, let’s go.”

  Devin eagerly walked up the ramp, pausing when she got to the top. The spotlessly clean, practically deserted sandy beach and the high waves that roared into the shore at regular intervals were a majestic reminder of the beauty—and power—of nature. The moment was made even more perfect when David moved to stand clo
se behind her, resting his palms on her shoulders. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. I’ve never seen a beach with so few people. Jones Beach tends to get very crowded.”

  “Since it’s a state park, I’ll bet it does. I’ve never been there.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Why go to a public beach when you have this right behind your house?”

  “By the way, did you bring a swimsuit?”

  “No. I figured it’s still too chilly to go swimming.”

  “The ocean water is still cold, but the pool is heated.”

  “Oh. I wish I’d known.”

  “There may be some swimsuits in the house that might fit you.”

  Devin didn’t relish the idea of wearing a swimsuit that belonged to one of David’s old girlfriends, but she didn’t say that. Instead she said, “I noticed how clean and orderly and fresh-smelling the house is. How is that? Wasn’t your house closed up for the winter?”

  “A housekeeping service comes in to dust and vacuum every so often, and they prepare the house for the summer, like bring out the tables and chairs for the patio, put the cushions on the patio furniture, connect the outer hoses…things like that. And, of course, the pool man comes to get the pool filled.”

  He stood close enough where she felt his breath on her neck, and she had to struggle not to tense or twitch her shoulders. Having him so close reminded her of their kiss in the elevator. She wondered if it reminded him of it, too.

  “How about taking a walk on the beach?” she asked.

  “Why don’t we eat first? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. There’s a good burger place in Westhampton. Why don’t we go get some lunch now, and then we can walk it off?”

  “Sounds good.”

  *****

  This was heaven, Devin thought. She and David had eaten a calorie-laden lunch of big, juicy cheeseburgers, fries, and strawberry milk shakes.