“I’m sorry that we don’t have those purple sandals in Aglaya’s size right now.” Matt unself-consciously shuffled gobs of bright, frilly little girls’ clothing in his long, tattooed arms. “We will have them again in a few days. If you like, we can deliver them right to your home when they come. Because of the inconvenience and the fact you’ve proved such a good, new customer, I can throw in the delivery at no extra charge.”
Alex caught the little girl’s eyes. “Are you sure you don’t like the pink ones?”
Aggie frowned and shook her head. Unlike a lot of little girls her age, Aggie wasn’t “all about” pink. Alex frowned too. She could tell her young charge was tired and bored, but she had complained little throughout the shopping trip. Alex wasn’t so out of touch that she didn’t get most preschoolers would have thrown a hairy conniption fit at least twenty minutes ago. This was a good kid, and she did enough “settling” in her young life. “All right,” she told Matt. “Do I need to fill out any paperwork to set up the delivery?”
“There is a short form, yeah, mostly so we know where to send them, but we can do that at the register when you’re ready to check out.”
Alex patted Aggie’s shoulder and stood up from the bench. Head to toe, they’d covered it all, in order. She literally thanked God it was over; she was set to go buy this miracle child an ice cream… and put a bit of distance between herself and the good-looking salesman. Alex reached for her credit card. “I’m ready now.”
* * *
Three days later, in the evening, Alex’s doorbell on Orange Grove Avenue in Glendale rang. That in itself was unusual, her being new in town and, out of necessity (or habit, maybe), more the keeping-to-herself sort. She left Aggie playing in her room and went to see who it was. Through the leaded window and the “decorative” barred storm door, she could see a male silhouette, backlit by the sinking sun. She smiled then checked herself. It was Matthew Gold from the department store. He held a small box underneath one arm. Alex took a deep breath, checked the weapon in her nearest hiding place, and opened the front door, leaving the storm closed and locked. He carried a children’s shoe box, she saw, and she breathed a bit easier, though she stayed on guard like she always did. That was her job, she reminded herself—while wondering why she needed to remind herself.
“Mr. Gold,” she said, even though she knew he wanted her to call him by his given name, “I didn’t expect personal delivery.” She forced a playful smile. “I hope it doesn’t cost extra.”
He laughed and loosened his mismatched tie. “Ms. Adelaide, I hope you and Aglaya are well this evening. Actually I live two blocks away on Santa Maria, so bringing them by on my way home was considerably cheaper than mailing them.”
That surprised Alex. Her neighborhood was not the place you’d expect to find a successful salesman who was also heir to a considerable retail business. “You live in this neighborhood? Your father must not pay commission on your sales.”
He shrugged. “I have three bedrooms; that’s already two more than I need.” He smiled at her benignly and seemed to be waiting for something. Alex tried to imagine his face without the thick glasses and thought about suggesting he get contact lenses, but then she thought that maybe that was too presumptuous of a thing to say to such a new acquaintance. He shuffled his feet and glanced around. The lid of her mailbox was open (rookie mistake, Alex), and he absently gazed at the label the mail carrier had left inside the lid. He touched the second name on the label. “Myshkin,” he pronounced. “Your boyfriend or roommate?”
Alex looked surprised. “Uh, no, that’s Aglaya’s last name actually. There’s no boyfriend or other.”
He laughed yet again. What an easy laugh he had! “Does a four-year-old get much mail?” he asked her.
Alex forced a giggle. “Aglaya is a very special four-year-old.” Which was true, of course, just not for any reason Matthew Gold possibly could imagine.
He smiled expectantly at her again, shuffled the shoebox hand-to-hand, and finally said, “I could claim I questioned your relationships in my interest as a salesman, but the truth is I hoped to invite you to dinner… Though your agreement to that, at this point, seems extremely unlikely considering that you’ve yet to open the door even to take the shoes that your daughter wanted desperately and you’ve already paid for.”
Alex almost jumped in surprise and laughed at herself. In fact, her suspicion of him wasn’t greater than with anyone else and had lessened throughout their (albeit limited) association. His visit, for reasons she couldn’t explain, had left her a bit transfixed. She gave an awkward smile, flipped the lock, and pulled the door open. “I’m sorry. I’m distracted is all. The whole moving thing must have fried my brain.”
“That’s understandable.” He handed her the shoebox and pressed his palms together like a prayer. “Does your politeness, however, only include the delivery or will you go out with me?”
Alex cocked her head and thought a moment. “We have grown rather fond of the burgers from In-N-Out.”
He looked surprised now. “They are good, of course, but there is a really nice quiet little bistro on Yuma Drive…”
“I couldn’t possibly take a four-year-old to a quiet bistro. During the dinner hour?” She shook her head frantically. “The other diners would assassinate me.”
Of course, he hadn’t intended to ask her daughter to dinner with them, but if he stuck around long enough, he’d soon find out Alexandra didn’t go anywhere without Aglaya. He was a good sport, though, and he laughed wryly but merrily and nodded while biting his bottom lip. “In-N-Out it is. And with pleasure. Do you and Aglaya like the grilled onions?”
“Oh, naturally,” Alex replied.
“Cokes or shakes?”
“Water.”
He laughed. “Alrighty then.”
Matt waited on the stoop while Alex fetched her shoulder bag (with protection, of course, but not the kind one might usually think) and her daughter. When Alex brought Aglaya outside, the girl sized up Matt again and said, “You work at the store.”
“Yes, I do. You have a good memory, Aglaya.”
Aggie tsked and continued giving him her skeptical look.
“I brought your purple sandals,” he told her, his voice rising a bit at the end.
The preschooler only sighed.
Alex decided then. She added the word “SAFE” under her mental surveillance photo of Matthew Gold, and she used their special code to let her little girl know when she said, “I usually call her Aggie.”
Aggie glanced from Alex to Matt again. Matt said, “I like that. Aggie.”
Aggie smiled, hopped off the porch, and made for Matt’s car. She hollered back over her shoulder, “I like the purple sandals.”
They drove through the burger joint and headed to a neighborhood park to eat. While they ate, Matt entertained the little girl with talk about her hobbies and impressions of popular cartoon characters. Then Aglaya ran off to play on the playground toys while Matt tried to “get to know” Alex, which wasn’t the easiest undertaking.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked her.
She laughed. “Blue. Yours?”
“Blue too. Though I like green as well.”
“The green shoes.”
“Ah, yeah. You remember. I actually have the Chuck Taylors in several colors though.”
“Chuck Taylors?”
“That’s what the canvas Converse shoes are called.”
“I did not know that.”
“It’s little known and not particularly useful fact. I have a wealth of useless information, especially about apparel and all that. Except it’s not entirely useless to me because I do work in a department store.”
“Your dad’s department store.”
“Yes, Sunset Coast, naturally. Though I had a strange feeling that you knew that before I told you.”
“Well, I knew beforehand that a family named Gold owned the chain. When you told me your name, I assumed you were one of them.�
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He made a jocular grimace and shook his head. “Are you that well-informed about every business you visit?”
She shrugged. “I too have a wealth of certain types of not particularly useful information.”
“And you have a vested interest in God’s Grace.”
She nodded slowly. It was a huge change of subject and a rather random thing to bring up on a first date. She kind of admired his nerve. Kind of, because it was definitely something that could run away with one if one weren't careful. “Don’t we all?” she asked him. “I mean, I think we’ve all done things in our lives that we wished we hadn’t.”
He nodded heartily. “Sure. I wasn’t really raised that way though.”
“Oh. Does your family practice—?”
He nodded, staring down at his hands and thinking hard. “They’re conservative too, especially for this locale. Tradition was always important, and family. And living a good life. Holiness, to honor God and the Tribe. More Tolstoy, I guess.” He smiled. “But Grace…” He paused, his brow knit tightly. “That’s something I came across later. About four and a half years ago. It was the hardest time in my life, because…well… I’m digressing. All I mean is that I needed something more.”
“I understand. It’s like a hiding place that you can run to when everything just goes south on you.”
He nodded, the introspection relaxed as his face took on a sort of naked joy and excitement. “Exactly! And when things started to feel less terrible, I found it enhanced my life in so many ways, that— Well, honestly, that’s why I wanted to ask you out. Your bringing it up with a stranger like that…I thought maybe we had something in common. It’s kept me alive these past few years, you know. I just…um, don’t exactly know how to tell my dad that yet.”
“You mean you actually converted to Christianity?”
Another nod, a wry smile. “So for now, I live in both worlds. And both have a certain beauty to them; both faiths have their own music. Very powerful music. And it’s good, I think; it’s created in me a rare balance between the passion and the respect. But my weekends are rather busy, as you can probably imagine.”
She smiled benignly, but her brain buzzed. This revelation surprised Alex more than a little; she knew how hard it was—just psychologically speaking—to change those deep-seated patterns with which one was raised. A transformation like Matt claimed would have untold practical implications as well and could generate an understandable stigma with a family to which he was obviously closely tied, both emotionally and professionally. Maybe this hipster sales guy had some hidden depths.
He didn’t let her stew on them now though. “So, Alexandra, what do you do for a living?”
“Um…” A bit of a beat while she thought. She decided to go with the honest-but-vague answer. “I used to work as a government analyst. Now I take care of Aglaya.”
“Hmm…Aglaya’s daddy must be able to afford some pretty good child support if you both can live on it.”
“He does rather well,” Alex said. Of course she didn’t get a penny from the child’s father, and it was actually the government that paid her to care for Aggie. Matt Gold didn’t need to know all that, though. Not yet, at least.
“Analyst is a rather vague career path.” Matt cocked his head and hinted that he’d like a description with a little more clarity.
“Motherhood often has clearer duties,” Alex replied, “but then again not always.”
Matt laughed softly, both amused and annoyed by her cryptic responses. He didn’t need to understand that she didn’t behave this way to flirt. She didn’t trust Matthew Gold that much yet, and she obviously was more careful now than she had been three years ago. She taught her daughter to be careful too. For a four-year-old, Aggie was well trained to be aware of her surroundings, to guard her privacy, and to be independent enough to follow that training when she thought her mother wasn’t watching (even if the little girl was never truly out of Alex’s sight).
“So, were you and he married or—?”
Alex glared at him. This was where his nerve became far less admirable and attractive. “Really?” she asked. “Already?”
“Alexandra, I’m—”
“Seriously, why would you bring that up?”
“So I get that Aglaya’s father is a bit of no-zone topic at this point, and that’s fine. I see you’re uncomfortable, and I take responsibility for that—”
Alex interrupted, “Well, how would you like it? I don’t know you well since we just met and all. So…let me see, what can I ask? Have you ever been married?”
“I have, briefly,” Matt responded matter-of-factly as if there was nothing at all strange about having this conversation on a first date.
But Alex still tried to make her point. “So how bad, exactly, was your divorce?”
“She died actually. It was pretty terrible, though.” His tone was mostly matter-of-fact, but it held the barest hint of something sore, like broken glass embedded underneath the skin. Alex’s stomach turned, and she looked around briefly for the source of the arrow that had just gone through her heart.
He lost his wife about four and a half years ago, she realized suddenly. That had been “the hardest time” he’d mentioned. She wanted to cry, scream, hang her head, and slap his face all at the same time. She sighed heavily and said to him, “How is it that you question all of my boundaries, but leave me feeling like the criminal?”
“I don’t mean you to feel that way. As I said, I take responsibility for that. I’ve been told by many people that I’m too direct and grow too familiar too quickly, but I don’t know any other way to be. In my line of work, it helps build rapport with my vendors, employees, and customers. That said, it doesn’t bother me in the least that you deny answers to some of my questions, though I must say you are even much less forthcoming than almost all of the people I know.”
“Okay. Can I say then that Aglaya’s father is not a good person and leave it at that for now?”
“That’s absolutely okay. Saying nothing would’ve been fine. And I can say, to be supportive, as a friend, that I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you to be involved in that situation, whatever nature it took.”
Alex laughed a bit, wryly. “So we’re friends now, are we?”
“Well, yes, unless you have a particularly convincing argument against it.” He grinned at her, but not to mock, she sensed, at least not in a cruel way. He was just teasing her.
And, yes, she realized that she was being rather ridiculous—but if he knew! She sighed and shook her head. “I guess I don’t.”
“Okay, so what would you like to discuss? More nineteenth-century Russian literature?”
“I’m afraid we rather exhausted my conversational scope of that particular topic during our first meeting.” Alex thought a second, clicking her tongue repeatedly to fill the silence. “Hmm… What about the law?”
“What about it?”
“Oh, anything. Nothing in particular. As a law school graduate, I can converse at length on related topics.”
“You went to law school?”
She nodded, lips pursed.
“Does that come in handy for government analysts?”
“It depends, of course. Where I worked, it was an almost-firm prerequisite for employment.”
He didn’t ask her where she’d worked. So maybe he was learning a little something about how to deal with her. He told her, “I, on the other hand, did the whole big business school thing.”
“MBA?” she asked, admittedly a tad surprised.
He nodded. “I know I don’t look it.”
She shrugged. “Though you are articulate enough to be well educated.”
The shortest, barest chuckle. “Well, thank you, Alexandra. You are rather articulate as well.”
Alex gave him a sheepish smile. She hadn’t meant that to sound like the most awkward and back-handed compliment ever spoken on a bad date, and she was grateful he responded with a subtle, good-na
tured rib instead of an awkward stare. She too could make witty, self-deprecating repartee; it was time to get in the game, so to speak. “An MBA, though.” She mock-frowned and shook her head. “It’s an unfortunate divergence of interest and aptitude. As a career government worker, I know absolutely zilch about business.”
Another laugh, lighter than the last time. “What about music, huh? That’s generally a safe topic, don’t you think?”
She nodded and pursed her lips thoughtfully for a second. “Hmm…What do you think of the Beach Boys?”
“Awesome!” And with that, he launched into the first verse of “Good Vibrations” and delivered the melody with good pitch and perfect falsetto. Within seconds, Alex laughed in spite of herself. After the first chorus, he stopped and said, “See, you seem uptight, but I don’t think it’s because you’re not a fun person. What, exactly, are you afraid of, Alex? Aglaya’s father?”
Alex’s jaw dropped, and she glared at him. How could he change pace just like that and head off so suddenly in such a completely different and—hello!—inappropriate direction?
Matt face-palmed even before he had a second to read the look on her face. “Agh,” he groaned. “There I go again. Getting too familiar too fast.”
Alex said nothing to that, and they sat in silence a moment.
A young girl who had been passing on the walking path stopped and said, “Mr. Gold, is that you?” in a voice and accent that shook Alex even more.
Matt looked up and smiled thoughtfully at the lovely young woman who had greeted him. “Elena, right? How are you?”
“Wonderful,” the girl said.
“Elena, this is Alexandra. Alex, Elena did some catalog work for us a year or two ago, but since has moved on to bigger and better things.”
As if this date could get any worse, the minute Alex let her guard down, she got a reminder of why it needed to be up. She smiled stiffly and shook the girl’s hand.
“I will leave you two alone,” Elena said, after a moment, probably sensing Alex’s discomfort. “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Gold.”
Matt nodded, and the girl left. He turned to Alex with concern on his face. “Are you okay?” Attempting to lighten the mood, he said in a mock-arrogant tone, “There’s no need to be jealous, really. The girl is all of eighteen years old, I bet. And, after all, I’m not exactly Hugh Hefner.”
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