by Elaine Fox
“I’m thirty-two, Daddy,” she said, with a look that told him what she thought of his mistake. “And I’m not trying to rush into marriage. If anything I’m trying to do the opposite. He’s talking marriage, and I feel like we hardly know each other. Not in the context of a romantic relationship.”
“You’ll have time to get to know each other,” he counseled calmly. “He’ll be back before you know it. Even after an engagement there’s time, you learn a lot about your intended in the months leading up to a wedding. Personally, I believe in long engagements, and I told Gerald so myself. It gives a couple the opportunity to come to grips with the promise to be made, the import of the commitment.”
Lily took a deep breath. He was right, she knew that. In so many ways, he was right. Maybe it was just her recent doubts—that kiss, that date—that had her feeling so frantic about Gerald’s departure. But it was, as her father said, only a few weeks. What was the big deal?
“Okay. I see what you’re saying.” She gazed into her father’s face. He cared, she knew that. He just didn’t understand what she felt was at stake here. She felt compelled to add, “It’s just…well, Daddy, I don’t want to disappoint you. And I don’t want to disappoint myself either. But I never realized how little Gerald and I know each other after all. Two years of chatting in the office and the occasional shared cup of coffee gave me little insight into who he is in a relationship.”
Not to mention that the contrast between what she felt with Brady—a complication that sprang up from nowhere and was probably the universe’s way of telling her to think twice—and what she felt with Gerald was too confusing and convoluted to figure out when one of the parties was missing for six, maybe eight weeks. Not that she had any hopes or expectations when it came to Brady, but that kiss with him had been a wake up call. She was not feeling what she should for Gerald.
She wished she could get this across to her father, explain to him what not seeing Gerald could do to her hopes—and her father’s expectations—about a future with Gerald. She needed to get to know him now, before living next door to Brady Cole ruined her future.
But of course her father wouldn’t understand that. Something told her he didn’t give in to any sort of passion, least of all ones that didn’t make sense and led nowhere. Because nothing was a bigger dead end for her than Brady Cole. He just didn’t fit. He didn’t belong in that picture frame she’d constructed in her mind, with Lily and Gerald and their two beautiful children.
Not to mention that being in that picture frame was probably the last thing he’d ever want. He didn’t exactly strike her as the marrying kind.
“You couldn’t possibly disappoint me, Lillian.” He tilted his head, looking at her kindly. “But don’t be too quick to judge him, all right? You know Gerald in one context, and now you’re getting to know him in the other. But it’s the same thing, in the same way that Gerald is essentially the same man at work that he is at home. It’s his character that matters. And his character is consistent. I’ve known him for several years now, and you can trust me that he’s a good man, and a good man for you.” He picked up the phone again and dialed. “Doris? Never mind, I have the folder right here.” He hung up.
A second later the door opened and Doris, a paralegal in the firm who had to be six feet tall and looked like a model, with dark hair and eyes and dramatic features, entered holding a sheaf of papers.
“I thought you might need these, too,” she said, doing her runway walk to Tyler’s desk and handing them to him. She glanced impassively at Lily, and said, “Please excuse me for interrupting.”
“No problem,” Lily said, feeling tiny.
“Excellent,” her father said, scanning the documents, “thank you, Doris.”
Doris pivoted with Vogue-worthy precision, and strode out the door, closing it behind her.
“I wish we could have had lunch today,” Lily said. “In a restaurant. So you weren’t so distracted by your papers and your phone calls and whatever else you’ve got piled up here.” She gestured toward the paper-strewn surface. “I don’t think you’re quite understanding what I’m saying. I don’t want to rush into something with Gerald, and making a commitment based on your recommendation of his character would be doing exactly that. Not that I don’t trust your opinion, Daddy, but marriage has to be based on more than objective qualities, don’t you think? I have to feel something, the right things, before I can commit.”
He dropped the folder on the desk, and his gray eyebrows descended. “Raw feelings are less to be trusted than the opinions and considerations of those whom you respect. I honestly regret the day that arranged marriages became passé, because more awful unions have been produced by passion—what you might refer to as the right feelings—than by rational assessment of a situation by concerned, yet objective parties. You should know this better than anyone.”
Lily slumped back in her chair. “I know what you’re referring to, and it’s not fair.”
“Now, now, I’m not trying to be unfair. And I’m not throwing anything in your face. I know you’ve grown and learned a lot since then. But I think it’s relevant to bring up the last time you let passion make a relationship decision for you. There’s a reason precedents are so important in law; it is the same in life.”
Her father had never forgotten the betrayal of her ill-advised marriage, to Duane, the plumber, even though she occasionally convinced herself that he had. He didn’t bring it up often, but when he did it always surprised her. Sometimes even now that act of rebellion at age twenty seemed so breathtaking that she was astonished at herself all over again.
Where had that girl gone? she wondered now. The one with the nerve and the confidence to do something like that even though it had ended up being a colossal mistake.
“I told Gerald about that, by the way,” she said. “And he understood completely.”
Her father sat back in his chair, expelling a breath of air as he did so, and looked at her in surprise. “You told him? About the plumber?”
Lily nodded, noting his disbelief. “He was fine with it. He understood.”
And thank God he had, because she’d had to tell him.
“Well, there you have it,” her father said, letting his confusion shift to confidence. He beamed. “More evidence of Gerald’s good character. Only a man of great integrity would be able to overlook such impulsiveness in a woman.”
Lily flushed. “Unlike yourself?” The words popped out before she could stop them.
Her father regarded her with steely reserve for so long a moment that Lily literally squirmed in her chair.
“I’m sorry you think that about me,” he said finally. “I have always wanted only the best for you. And you have to admit that Duane was not the best. Far from it.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
He shook his head, dismissing the slight. “I know you’re upset. But listen to your old father for a minute. I know it’s hard to believe, but I do know a lot about life. Just because you haven’t got sweaty palms or butterflies in your stomach, or whatever it is you girls think you’re supposed to have when you choose a man, doesn’t mean that he is not right for you. Those things pass eventually anyway. Choose wisely. Choose someone with a future. Choose someone strong and steady and reliable. I can assure you, Lillian, you don’t want someone you can boss around like some uneducated plumber. I know you. You need a strong man. A man like Gerald.”
Why did this discussion about Duane make her think of Brady Cole? He wasn’t anything like Duane.
But he was the exact same kind of mistake, she thought. Or would be, if she—or he—let anything come of it.
“I want you to know, Daddy,” she said, calmly, “that I’m not likely to make a mistake like Duane again. This thing with Gerald…I know we’ve talked about it before, and we’ve both hoped something would develop. Now that it looks like something is developing, I just want to be sure it’s right. You understand that, don�
��t you?”
“Of course I do,” he said. He gave her a smile, forgiving her. “It’s just that I know it’s right. I can tell, sweetie. You just have to trust me.”
She shook her head, suddenly feeling as if she might cry. “You need to trust me, Daddy.”
“And I do. Of course I do.” They looked at each other a long moment before her father shifted his attention to the folder on his desk. “Now, let’s not talk about this anymore until there’s something concrete to say on the subject. I’m sure there’s no need to quibble over something that’s going to resolve itself in the end anyway.” He smiled confidently at her. “If Gerald can wait the few weeks this project will take, then surely you and I can, too.”
If Gerald can wait, Lily thought. Of course Gerald could wait. Gerald had no trouble waiting for anything, apparently.
She hated that all she could think about was the way she and Brady had come together like Velcro the night they’d kissed. I want you, she’d said, and even now she could not forget how very much she’d meant it. Her body had been like a beast possessed. Carnal and voracious. She’d never known such loss of control.
Why didn’t Gerald feel any of that passion? Why didn’t she feel any of that passion for Gerald? When he’d taken her in his arms there’d been none of that…that desperation to touch, that physical need that she’d felt with Brady. Indeed, thinking back on that horrible kiss she’d shared with Gerald, she had felt quite the opposite.
“Good idea,” she said at last. “We’ll just see what happens.”
And we’ll hope that in the meantime Lillian didn’t do anything impulsive in the passion department. She couldn’t think of a bigger way to disappoint her father. Or herself.
A slight smile played on her father’s lips. “Good. And you know, this is probably a beneficial lesson for you, Lillian. If you want to be married to a partner, then you’re going to have to understand what the job demands. Of both of you.”
She made herself smile. “If I didn’t already know that from growing up with you, Daddy, I don’t know what Gerald could possibly teach me about it.”
He laughed. It was what she always resorted to with him. Laughter. If she could make light of her issues, then he would not be burdened by them. And she would seem reasonable and smart.
So why did she feel so powerless when she did it? Was it because he didn’t understand her, and she didn’t make him? She just did what she could to smooth things over.
She wondered, would a life with Gerald make her feel like she was in the same kind of position forever? Or would it be an entree into her father’s world on her own terms, where she could finally assert her own will?
“By the way,” her father said, still studying the file folder in front of him, “how’s that pilot working out?”
Lily stood up abruptly. “He’s great. A nice guy.”
Her father looked up at her in surprise. “What’s the matter? Are you leaving?”
She shook her head, willing away the blush that had hit her cheeks. “Nothing’s the matter. I just realized the time.”
whatever she did, she couldn’t let on to her father that there was anything between her and Brady other than neighborly friendship. It wouldn’t take her father long to make the leap from Duane to Brady if he suspected anything else.
He glanced at his watch. “Yes, I have some papers to glance at before my meeting.”
She nodded. “And about the, uh, pilot. I think he’s going to ask out my friend Penelope.” She picked up her purse and turned for the door.
“That’s nice. Isn’t it?” her father said, his eyes registering far more perception than she would have liked. Why couldn’t he have been as perceptive when she was talking about her problems with Gerald?
She walked to the door. “It’s great. They’ll be perfect together. And remember, Daddy, next time let’s go to a restaurant.”
“Certainly,” he said, still eyeing her. “Give my secretary a call and set up our next luncheon. I promise I’ll get us out of this office.”
She flashed him a smile and departed, praying to God her guilt and self-consciousness about Brady had been obvious only to her.
Doug’s work was never done. It was a full-time job, figuring out how to manage the lives of all the lesser beings around him, but it was a job he loved. Lily was a human worth protecting, and the others…well, they were usually fun to mess with.
It wasn’t hard keeping them in line. Look at the guy from the house next door, the Timid One. Doug could smell sweat on him every time he saw Doug enter the room, which was rather enjoyable. But the Timid One almost never came over anymore. He just stood at the fence looking at Lily like she was in heat and he was crated.
The other one who came around every now and then, the tall one he thought of as Smelly Man—it was something he put on himself that Lily seemed to like but gave Doug a headache—wasn’t worth his time. Not to mention that nothing he had on would taste good, not with that awful, unnatural odor attached to it. So he left him alone, knowing he would disappear on his own before much more time passed.
Doug headed out the dog door into the warm summerlike air. Lily was going to be gone all day. He knew because that’s when she left the dog door open for him. She did this despite the fact that she’d been so displeased by his alterations to the New Guy’s vehicle. Based on subsequent stomach rumblings and discomforts, he had to admit that she was right. It had been a bad idea.
This new idea was better. He trotted up to the New Guy’s porch and sniffed around. Nothing there worth noting, really, but he was just warming up. He had all day, a fact that gave him the most contented feeling of relaxation.
He stretched out on the back porch for a while in the shade. He napped. Then stretched, rolling onto his back, his side, then flattened on his belly. He napped some more. Dreamed about a squirrel that had gotten away from him the day before. Then he got up.
The air smelled of cut grass and baked dirt. A lovely smell. He’d have to do some rolling in it once he was finished with his task.
New Guy’s back window was open, as usual. Doug didn’t like taking out screens, but he’d done it before. It was mostly a matter of getting a toenail or two in the right spot and digging like the window was fresh topsoil and you had the biggest bone in the world.
Eventually he got it open. He knew just where to look for his quarry, too. These humans were nothing if not predictable. Not like another dog who might hide his belongings anywhere, if the yard was big enough. He went upstairs and headed down the hallway to the room that was in a similar spot to Lily’s. Sure enough, once in the room he saw beyond an open door the place where the New Guy kept his footwear.
Doug began the day’s task.
One at a time, picking one shoe from each pair, he trotted down the stairs, took each to his special place, then came back for the next.
It was exhausting, but he had some cowhide to work off.
Eleven
Dammit, where was his other shoe?
Brady dug through the pile of shoes and belts at the bottom of his closet, looking for his other loafer.
After a second he sat back on his heels, staring at the mess.
Where were all his other shoes?
He leaned forward again and, one by one, pulled shoes from the closet. One blue Nike running shoe. One white Nike running shoe. One Asics running shoe. One New Balance running shoe. One black dress shoe. One brown dress shoe. One Wilson tennis shoe. One Teva sandal. One loafer. One boat shoe. One of those godawful Mexican things that weren’t even comfortable.
He had only one shoe from each pair.
This was too weird. It couldn’t be that he was just losing his mind. There was no way he could have so meticulously lost one shoe from each pair. In fact, he couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever actually lost a shoe. How would he even do that?
He remembered the flip-flops on the back porch. One of those had been missing, too. He’d have to cobble together a makeshift pair of
something and go buy another pair of loafers. His boss’s party was tonight, and there was no way he could show up wearing mismatched shoes.
He turned and looked at the clock. Dammit, he thought again. He only had an hour.
Brady rose and went down the stairs. Rounding the newel post at the base of the steps and heading for the kitchen, he thought about who might play such a trick on him.
Naturally, his mind sprang to his first and foremost tormentor: Tricia. It wasn’t her usual style, but then, if she’d branched out from insane screaming fits into silly pranks, he’d welcome the change. He hadn’t heard from her in a while. She was about due for another assault.
If it had been Tricia, how had she gotten in? Would Lily have let her in?
The thought of Lily made him pause. She’d looked incredible last weekend. So incredible he could hardly believe how early her date had left. At first he’d hoped she’d cut it short, indulging the ridiculous fantasy that she’d realized Gerald was a putz and that he, Brady, was a worthwhile guy who might possibly make a good friend—which could easily lead to more—despite his needing to be on a date diet. But then Megan Rose had called during the week to make sure he was still coming to the party, and he knew the setup with that woman, Penelope, must still be on. Lily clearly didn’t want him if she was trying to scrape him off on her friend. Why couldn’t he get that through his head?
In any case, it didn’t make sense that Tricia would come here and mess with his shoes, especially without leaving some kind of calling card. She wasn’t one to do things without getting credit.
He crossed the kitchen, noticed the open window, and decided to close it. Springtime, he thought, you never knew when it might thunderstorm. It wasn’t until he rounded the kitchen table that he saw the broken screen on the floor by the wall. Something had pushed against the mesh until it bulged in the middle; then it had obviously popped out of the frame and into the house. The thing was bent nearly in half. Then whoever it was had climbed in through the window.