Writing a Wrong

by Betty Hechtman

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That sounds great.’

  ‘I’d like to keep my sister out of it.’

  ‘I agree.’ I laughed, imagining if she saw us leaving together. ‘She’d read way too much in it.’

  ‘I could just stop out front,’ he said, sounding a little uncertain.

  ‘And you’ll honk?’ I was joking but he took it seriously.

  ‘Honk the horn? Who does that?’ he said, confused.

  My usual behavior would have been to keep my thought process to myself, but I decided it was better to explain. ‘I was joking. It’s something out of the ancient past, if movies are true, where the nice girl in town gets picked up by her bad-boy boyfriend so her parents don’t know.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said with a little laugh. ‘I guess the modern version of that is a text, though it seems too bland for a bad boy to use. But exactly what I was going to suggest.’ There was the hint of a smile in his tone.

  I told him I’d be awaiting his message and we signed off. He hadn’t mentioned the destination, so I dressed in my all-purpose outfit of black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater finished off with a scarf for color. I stuck to leather ankle boots as footwear. After a few runs with a hairbrush, I redid my makeup with a little more care than usual. The last touch was a spritz of rose-scented cologne.

  When Ben texted me, I grabbed my jacket and purse and went downstairs. I tiptoed past Sara’s, afraid she’d open the door. She’d smell the perfume and figure something was up.

  I was pretty sure the black Wrangler double parked in front of the building belonged to Ben, but just to be sure I peered in the window as I crossed the sidewalk. Ben lowered the passenger window and gave me a wave. It was higher off the ground than the typical SUV and I was really glad this wasn’t a date because I was hardly graceful as I launched myself into the passenger seat.

  The first thing I did was check out what he was wearing. He’d stepped things up a notch and had on slacks and a sweater. I caught a whiff of cologne and he caught me sniffing.

  ‘I hope you approve. I’m practicing for our fake dates,’ he said.

  ‘It looks good to me,’ I said. ‘So, where are we going?’

  ‘I did a little research and found a fondue restaurant known to be a romantic spot. It seemed like a good place for us to study how people act so we can emulate.’ He explained it was in Old Town which was located just north of Downtown and was filled with cafés, trendy shops and hip entertainment venues.

  ‘This feels a little naughty,’ I said as he headed toward the outer drive. ‘I really should be home doing some work for my new clients.’

  ‘New clients?’ he said. ‘More love letters?’ There was a touch of disapproval in his voice.

  ‘No, this time it’s ice cream, food and kids’ shoes.’ We had started to drive north and I glanced toward the lake which was lost in the darkness. As we passed downtown, I watched a plane fly out over the water and then hook around to fly over the city, lowering to land at O’Hare. He chuckled when I told him about Haley’s weird ice-cream flavors. He’d already heard about the chocolate mint cake. When I mentioned the décor at the kids’ shoe store, he suggested I tell Sara to take Mikey there.

  It was a challenge to find a parking spot, which turned out to be several blocks from the restaurant, but while it was cold there was no wind and there were lots of interesting shop windows to take in.

  The restaurant was located in a storefront at the base of an apartment building. The lights were low enough to make everyone look their best, but bright enough to see the other patrons in the restaurant. It appeared Ben’s research was right. All the people in the place seemed like they were on a date. They had their heads together as they dabbled long forks in the pots in the middle of the tables. I saw a man lift a fork with a cube of bread oozing warm cheese and feed it to his companion. Ben saw it too.

  ‘I bet this is the kind of place your lover-boy client takes his lady friend,’ he said as we sat down at a table in the middle of the restaurant. ‘Too bad he isn’t here. He’d probably have all the moves down and would be a good one for us to study.’ Ben had reverted to his flat cop tone of voice, but his distaste for Tony was obvious.

  It was ridiculous, but I felt as though I had to defend Tony. ‘You don’t know him,’ I said. ‘He’s not the oily operator you seem to think he is. He’s just like the rest of us, trying to get together with someone.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’ Ben said, staring at me directly.

  ‘Well, yeah, more or less. He said something about wanting someone who looked beyond his good looks and nice wardrobe. And I guess he found her, but he needed help in sealing the deal, which is where I came in.’

  Ben rolled his eyes. ‘He sounds like a con man who knows just the right thing to say to whoever he’s speaking to. He pegged you as someone who wasn’t sold by good looks and a cashmere overcoat.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. I’d tried to keep my tone even, but I was sure it came out defensive. Ben had to be wrong. I was about to say that he hadn’t conned me out of anything, but then I stopped myself. He had charmed me into working in a way I didn’t like and now he owed me money. ‘Maybe we should order,’ I said, hoping to change the subject.

  I was relieved when Ben picked up the menu and we began to discuss what we would order. Since everything was meant to be shared, we decided on the cheese fondue. I got an ice tea and Ben ordered a beer.

  We spent the time waiting for the food checking out the crowd. I watched as a woman’s coat slipped off the back of her chair. I nudged Ben as her companion picked it up, replacing it and putting his arm around her for just a moment as he did. ‘That’s good, a subtle but affectionate touch.’

  ‘You want to practice?’ he said, eying my jacket. There was a twinkle in his eye and I knew he was joking.

  ‘We’re just here to observe,’ I said, smiling as I held on to my jacket.

  It took two servers to bring the fondue pot and the tray of dipping items. Then came a lot of instructions and warnings about hot liquids and the flame underneath the pot.

  ‘Whew, that was a lot,’ I said when they finally left. We both looked over the set-up.

  ‘We’re not going to feed each other, right?’ Ben said. I thought he was being serious again, but then he cocked a smile.

  We put our ‘romantic body language’ study on hold while we dealt with the food. It was definitely not for the famished. It was a slow process of loading a piece of bread on the fork, dipping it in the liquid cheese, letting the excess drip off before finally delivering it to your mouth. But it was sensual and I got why the place was a lovers’ hangout.

  ‘You were right about this place,’ I said. ‘Next date I go on, I’m coming here.’

  ‘What happened? Did you meet somebody yesterday?’ he said. ‘I thought we were in the same place about that. You’re still too bummed over your divorce.’ There was no even cop tone now.

  ‘No, I didn’t meet somebody yesterday,’ I said, rolling my eyes at the thought. Remembering that I’d made it seem like I was as standoffish as he was about getting involved with anyone, I was careful about what I said. ‘I meant that when I’m ready for a relationship and I find that person, I’d suggest this place.’

  He seemed disconcerted. ‘So nothing has changed for us and this project? You’re not going to suddenly say you don’t need me anymore.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed. I still need a stand-in, as you do. And we still need to figure out how to act so we seem authentic.’

  ‘OK, then,’ he said and he let out his breath. ‘Should we get dessert? There’s one called lovers’ chocolate,’ he said, reading it over. ‘A pot of warm chocolate with ripe whole strawberries for dipping.’

  We were interrupted by a noise coming from the next table. I couldn’t describe what it was, other than maybe a grunt or someone gagging. We both turned to look. The man was staring at his companion as cheese dripped off the cube of bread at the end of his fork. Her e
yes were bugged out as she flailed around.

  ‘Hey, man, she’s choking,’ Ben said, already getting out of his chair. The man seemed frozen as Ben passed by him and rushed behind the woman. He hit her on the back a number of times and nothing happened. He bent her forward and grabbed her around the middle. After one strong thrust something flew out of her mouth. She started to fall forward, but Ben caught her and hung on until she collected herself. By now the whole restaurant was staring at him and broke out in applause. Ben took a bow and held up his badge as he said, ‘All in a day’s work.’

  ‘Impressive,’ I said when he came back to our table. ‘You’re a regular hero.’

  ‘Hardly. It really is all in a day’s work, and that’s nothing. I had to put a tourniquet on a chef about to bleed out after he …’ He stopped himself. ‘There’s no reason to give the gory details.’

  We ended up not getting dessert, though the management encouraged us to have it and insisted on picking up the check. ‘Sorry we didn’t get much chance to observe couples,’ he said on our walk back to the Wrangler.

  ‘I’m sure that woman would think what you did was far more important.’ I was still processing the whole evening and how effortlessly he’d stepped in and basically saved the woman’s life.

  When we finally got to my street, Ben pulled into a parking spot right in front of my building. ‘You’re welcome to come up,’ I said. ‘I can offer you a glass of my cooking wine.’ Since even a sip of wine went right to my head, I didn’t drink, but I did use wine in cooking.

  He glanced up toward the third floor. ‘I’d like to, but my sister has a sixth sense and I know she’d manage to open the door as we were going by. One look at us in our dress-up duds and she’d be having Mikey fitted for a tuxedo so he could be a ring bearer.’

  We both laughed at the idea and I opened the door to get out of the car. There was an awkward moment when I wondered how we should mark the end of our evening. It was like he read my thoughts. ‘Do you think a hug would be appropriate?’ he said. I nodded, reaching across the console and we embraced quickly before I made my exit.

  It had been quite a night.

  SIX

  I was still processing the previous evening when I got up on Thursday morning. Rocky followed me back to the kitchen and as usual ate some of his dry food, while I made coffee and what had become my regular breakfast of an orange along with toast and a hard-boiled egg. I brought everything into the dining room and put it on the placemat on the dining-room table. I glanced up at the bookcase, filled with things I’d collected and others left from my parents. The only thing that seemed to change from day to day was the angle of the sun. Rocky had finished with his breakfast and had come into the dining room and as usual jumped on to an adjacent chair, waiting until he could move over into my lap.

  As I sliced the egg and buttered the toast, I suddenly saw myself in a new light, and not a very happy one. I’d become a spinster lady, living surrounded by memories, whose only companion was a cat. Though since I had been married once, was I really a spinster or a divorcée? The term didn’t really matter. I was stuck in a rut, either working or repeating the same routines. Even my crocheting of squares reeked of dullness. I was no fun. The outing the night before had made me realize how far I’d fallen, so that even a fake date was a big event.

  It was natural for my thoughts to go to Ben. I thought back to when he’d first started with the group and seemed so one-dimensional. Even his writing was so bare bones with no emotion. As I’d gotten to know him outside the group, I’d glimpsed more of his personality. But last night had been different. The way he’d stepped in and saved that woman’s life, as if it was nothing special, had wowed me. I only stayed on that thought for a moment before it morphed into me thinking of how he could incorporate that into his story. I couldn’t help it, I was always thinking about writing. And then it morphed into thinking about my own work.

  All my notes from the day before were waiting for me. I hoped I wouldn’t freeze up. I hated it when I stared at the screen and nothing would come. It didn’t happen that often with the writing I did for other people, but remembering how I was still struggling with the second mystery made me wary.

  I made an effort to alter my routine, and didn’t refill my coffee cup when I’d drunk half of it. My big stab at getting out of the rut was waiting until the whole cup was gone. And then instead of staying in the dining room, I took it into my office. I had to talk myself out of fretting that I was going to spill it over the keyboard.

  Making an effort to do something different, I threw open the frosted French doors that led to the living room. I usually kept them shut so as to keep my office space separate. Sunlight streamed in, taking away the usual semi gloom due to there being only one window, which looked out on the narrow space between my building and the next.

  I still had to turn on the student lamp with the yellow glass shades, but everything was brighter. Rocky came in and looked around. Instead of his usual spot in the burgundy wing chair, he settled in a sunny spot on the floor. Maybe we both needed to get out of our usual habits.

  I thumbed through my notebook, reading over the notes I’d taken the day before. I typed them into the computer, fleshing them out as I did and adding questions that I had. I got lost in my work of writing the proposals. When it came to price, I went bargain-basement cheapest for the Handelmans and a fair amount for Haley Hess and her ice-cream business, since I sensed dealing with her was going to be a challenge.

  When I looked at the clock, I was stunned that the morning was gone. It had seemed only moments since I’d taken my coffee into my office. Rocky had changed position, trying to keep up with the moving sunny spot.

  I printed everything up and got myself together to deliver the proposals. I could have done it online as I had with LaPorte’s, but I preferred to deal directly whenever I could. It was good to have a reason to go outside and be in the world. As I approached the papered-over windows of Haley’s shop I wondered if she would have some other weird ice cream to taste. But there was no response when I knocked on the door to her place, so I slid the papers under it.

  There wasn’t even a hint that it had snowed the day before. Chicago was known for weather that changed abruptly. The sun was out and it was warm enough to leave my jacket open, making it a good day for walking, and I looked forward to my trek to 53rd. I passed a row of lilac bushes and looked at the naked brown branches. The softness in the air made me think of spring and how those branches would be covered in green leaves and heavy scented lavender flowers. I could already smell them in my imagination.

  There was a bustling feeling to 53rd after the quiet of the side street. Cars clogged the roadway and the sidewalk had a parade of people. When I reached Handelman’s shoe store, I glanced through the window before I went in. I had mixed feelings when I saw that Emily and Lewis were behind the counter and all the seats were empty. I would be able to talk to both of them, which was good, but having no customers was bad.

  The cow made a shaky trip over the moon with no claps of delight as I walked through the store. The pair looked up with anticipation, but it faded when they saw it was me.

  ‘In no time, this place will be packed with little girls getting party shoes for Easter and sandals for the summer. We just have to get people to understand how special this shop is,’ I said in a cheerful voice.

  I dropped my messenger bag on one of the chairs and pulled out the proposal. Both Emily and Lewis seemed uncomfortable as they glanced at the paper in my hand. I knew they were getting ready to tell me they couldn’t afford my services. I held out the proposal anyway. ‘I’m giving you my bare-bones rate because I love this store and I believe in you two. I’ve made it so you would give me a bonus when the business turns around.’

  Lewis took the sheet and read it over. His melancholy expression morphed into a genuine smile. ‘This looks good,’ he said, looking from the paper to me. ‘This seems like something we could manage and the idea of a bonus wh
en things get better seems workable. Our grandparents are still the official owners, so I’ll have to pass this along to them, but I’m sure it will be acceptable,’ he said.

  I had hoped that he would sign it on the spot and give me the deposit check, since I was anxious to get started. It was a habit of mine to view my projects as much more than a job and I was already caught up with the idea of making the shoe store into an iconic destination.

  ‘In the meantime, Emily mentioned that your aunt might be a good resource,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, she would. She worked here when she was growing up. Our grandparents believed in making their kids earn their allowance. So she probably has some good anecdotes and photos. I think they hoped she’d join them in the business, but she went to art school and became a jewelry designer. She’s local, so I’m sure we can arrange for you to talk to her.’

  ‘Thank you again,’ Emily said, taking my hand. ‘I just know you’re going to be able to help us.’

  I was certainly going to give it my best effort.

  Since I was in the area, I stopped in at LaPorte’s. Neither Rex nor Cocoa were there, but Cocoa had given me a card to show when I came in which explained what I was doing. I started at the top of the menu and chose a green bean salad and a chopped vegetable concoction. I scribbled down notes between bites. Crisp green beans with hunks of blue cheese and California walnuts in a signature honey-mustard dressing. I described the other salad as Bite-size pieces of Persian cucumbers mixed with chopped sugar plum tomatoes flavored with green onions marinated in a homemade garlic dressing.

  I headed home on a high.

  I usually only gave a cursory look to the cars parked in front of my building. I didn’t currently own one and relied on public transportation and the occasional Uber or Lyft, so parking spaces weren’t my concern. I probably wouldn’t have noticed the black sedan if it hadn’t been parked in front of the ‘No Parking’ sign. The space was intended to be left empty, but cop cars parked there all the time when they went to the corner coffee shop to eat. I gave the dark car a second look and noticed it had an antenna and a light stuck on the side – a sure sign it was a cop car. I figured it belonged to a detective who was eating a late lunch. I never thought that it had anything to do with me.