As Young As We Feel

by Melody Carlson

"Well, why don't you go pour a glass of juice or something. I'll wait."

  She slowly walked to the big stainless refrigerator, opening it to see the same contents it had held last night when she'd absently looked inside. Except for club soda, some old condiments, and moldy cheese (not the good kind of mold), it was empty.

  "Are you getting some juice?" he asked hopefully. "Or a piece of fruit?"

  "Uh, I need to get groceries."

  "You don't have anything to eat in the house?"

  She just shook her head as if he was watching her.

  "Oh, Janie." Disappointment was in his voice. "How about your neighbors?"

  She attempted a laugh. "I don't even know them. Not really. Not well enough to go begging."

  "Will you go get some groceries, please?" he asked patiently. "But before you get groceries, go get some lunch? Will you?"

  "You must think I'm nuts."

  "I think you're sad."

  She nodded now. Tears were burning her eyes.

  "I wish I lived nearby," he said. "I'd bring you groceries and cook you some food."

  "You'd do that?" Now the tears flowed.

  "Absolutely."

  "You know what I wish?"

  "For pizza delivery?" he joked. "Hey, that's actually a good idea. Why don't you call for pizza delivery?"

  "Yes. That's what I'll do."

  "Do it right now, okay? I'll give you fifteen minutes, and then I'm calling back to check on you. Understand?"

  "Yes."

  "And then you have to tell me what it is you wish, okay?"

  "Okay." Janie hung up, then went over to the drawer, where she kept a stack of menus. She flipped through them and found the closest pizza place that delivered. She called and ordered a small vegetarian pizza, then hung up and waited to see if Victor would really call back. When the phone rang exactly fifteen minutes later, she tried to sound more together when she answered.

  "Pizza on the way?" he asked hopefully.

  "On its way." With her purse in her lap, she sat in a chair near the door, ready for the delivery.

  "So tell me, when did you last eat?"

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  "Lunch. Yesterday."

  "Oh, Janie."

  "I know. I'm pathetic."

  "I think you're depressed."

  "You think?" She actually sort of laughed.

  "I think you're good at hiding it, but I do think you're depressed."

  "Yes, I think you're right. Today I wasn't even able to work." She sighed. "And I have to admit, that scares me."

  "Well, having low blood sugar can't be good for your brain."

  "No, probably not."

  "Why are you working on Sunday? Don't they give you any time off?"

  "It was my choice."

  "So, before your pizza arrives and I lose your interest, you were going to tell me what you wish."

  Janie wasn't so sure she wanted to say it.

  "Come on," he urged. "You promised you would."

  "I promised?" She tried to remember.

  "Sort of. You gave me your word. Your okay."

  "Right."

  "Come on. I won't tell anyone."

  "Okay, if you promise."

  "I promise."

  "I wish I lived in Clifden."

  "Then why don't you?"

  "I don't know."

  "What is there for you in New York?"

  "My job?"

  "You can practice law anywhere."

  "What if I don't want to practice law?"

  He laughed. "Well, you can do that anywhere too."

  "I just don't know if I could really do it. I mean quit my job, sell my apartment ... just pack it up and move. I don't know if I have that kind of strength."

  "I think you do."

  "Really?" She felt a flicker of hope.

  "Not only do I think you're that strong, I think you'll be even stronger once you do it."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  He chuckled. "Just a hunch."

  "Hey, I hear someone coming down the hall," she told him. Then the doorbell rang. "My pizza has arrived."

  "Good."

  "Thank you, Victor." She was fumbling to open the door and her purse simultaneously. "I should go."

  "Do you mind if I call you back later?" he asked.

  "Sure, if you want."

  "Bon appetit," he said cheerfully.

  "Thanks!" She hung up, paid and tipped the delivery guy, then carried her pizza like precious gold to her dining-room table, where she sat down and slowly polished off the whole thing along with a glass of water. It was probably good that she'd only ordered a small. She was pretty sure she might've eaten more.

  Feeling more like herself, she took a long shower and, as she got dressed, convinced herself that her problem had simply been fatigue and hunger. She was going out to get some fresh air, some sunshine, and some groceries-along with a taste of her beloved New York!

  After a couple of hours, Janie began to feel flat again, as if the wind had been sucked right out of her sails. Had it even been there at all? She looked at the people moving around her-navigating the sidewalk, mingling, talking with street vendors-but it was as if she were watching a black-and-white movie in slow motion with mute on. Everything was meaningless and unrelated to her. She felt alone in a crowded place, on the verge of a panic attack.

  Taking deep, calming breaths, she crossed the street and found a vacant table at a busy sidewalk cafe. She sat her purse on the sticky table and retrieved her cell phone, wondering why Victor hadn't called her yet. Perhaps she had missed his call. To her dismay, her phone was dead. She shoved it back into her bag and tried to catch the eye of a waiter. Naturally not one was anywhere to be seen, and yet the people filling the other tables seemed perfectly happy and oblivious. Their needs had already been met.

  She waited about fifteen minutes, then, feeling slightly calmer (if not more irritated), she gave up on ever getting service and hurried down the street to the grocery store nearest her apartment. Of course, she'd forgotten to bring her shopping bag, and so she bought a new canvas sack and filled it with her usual staples-orange juice, whole-wheat bagels, coffee, and yogurt. She paid for her purchases, then continued on to her apartment, where she immediately plugged her phone into the charger.

  Waiting for it to get enough power so she could dial into voice mail, she put her groceries away and checked her landline. She was surprised to see she had two messages. Both were from her sister-inlaw, Edith, inviting Janie to meet her and Ross for dinner at Zenon Taverna. Ross was Phil's older brother as well as a senior partner in the firm where Janie worked. As much as she didn't want to have dinner with them, she knew she couldn't keep making excuses. She called Edith and agreed to meet them at seven thirty. At least they had chosen a restaurant that was handy for Janie. That was something.

  "Wonderful," Edith said happily. "I already made reservations, and I was not going to take no for an answer. See you then." Janie thanked her, then hung up and checked her cell phone again. She had two calls from Edith there as well, and one message from Victor.

  "Hi, Janie. I hope your pizza hit the spot. You really didn't sound too good there. I was worried. Maybe you could call me back just so I'll know you're okay. Thanks."

  So she went ahead and called, but she got his voice mail. "Hey, Victor," she said in an intentionally cheerful tone. "Thanks again for helping me out earlier. I'm feeling totally fine now. I think I had a bad case of jet lag, fatigue, and hunger. the pizza did the trick. I've been out and about, and I'm going out to dinner with my brotherin-law and his wife. Thanks again for your encouragement today. Please don't worry about me. I'm fine." Hoping that sounded convincing, she hung up. Then, feeling completely exhausted again, she poured a glass of orange juice and carried it to her bedroom, where she collapsed on the bed and hoped she'd wake in time for dinner.

  As it turned out, she was late for dinner by fifteen minutes. Edith assured her it was all right. "You loo
k lovely, Jane," she told her. "Your vacation on the Oregon coast must've agreed with you."

  Janie put the napkin in her lap and wondered if Ediths compliment was genuine. Although, Janie had used a little more blush and lip color than usual, hoping it might add some life to her face. "It was wonderful. I forgot how much I like it there."

  "All ready for the Brewster-McMillan case this week?" asked Ross.

  "Ross," Edith warned him. "You know the rules."

  He smiled sheepishly. "No business. Sorry." Now he glanced uncomfortably at his wife. "So who's going to tell her?"

  Janie felt a rush of nerves now. "Tell me what?"

  "Oh, Jane, I hope you won't get mad," Edith began, "but I invited an old friend of mine to join us tonight."

  Janie smiled. "Oh, that's okay. Why would I be mad?"

  "Because Edith thinks she's playing matchmaker," Ross said quietly.

  "Matchmaker?" Janie stared at Ross in disbelief. She wasn't surprised that Edith would pull something like this, but it seemed out of character for Phil's older, sensible, dignified brother to stoop to this level.

  He looked apologetic. "I told her not to do it, but she didn't listen."

  "Because I just know you're going to like this guy, Jane." Edith smiled like a cat with canary feathers sticking out of her mouth. "His name is Adam Fletcher, and he's not a lawyer."

  "Not a lawyer?" Janie frowned. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

  Edith nodded. "Yes. I've always had a concern about married couples with the same profession."

  "Oh." Janie glanced at Ross for support, but he was pretending to study the menu.

  "Anyway, he should be here any minute," Edith said. "His wife died a few years ago, and he's been out of the dating scene too. He's got two grown children, a vacation house in Martha's Vineyard, and a studio in town. And he's an architect." Her eyes sparkled. "Doesn't that sound perfect?"

  "Just perfect." Janie couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. It was bad enough that she was here against her better judgment, but to be subjected to an evening with a stranger who probably had as much interest in dating as she did was beyond comprehension.

  "And there he is."

  Janie braced herself, expecting the guy to be short, fat, and bald. Or worse, he would be stunningly handsome, full of himself, and arrogant. As it turned out, she was wrong on all accounts. He was nice looking, gracious, and interested in knowing her. The problem was that she was not interested in him. Not in the least. She was perfectly polite and loquacious, though, and hoped no one was aware of her real sentiments.

  After dessert and coffee were finished, she thanked everyone, made apologies on the grounds that she was worn out and still had work to do, and excused herself to go home. As she walked the two blocks to her apartment, she couldn't help comparing Victor to her blind date. In some ways the two men weren't so much different. And in others, well, Janie didn't want to think about that right now.

  Chapter 21

  MARLEY

  Monday afternoon, Marley could hardly believe what she'd done. Was she really going to follow through with her half-baked plan to leave Seattle? Certainly she was done at the gallery-there was no question about that. Kevin had told her that she could take her last day whenever she liked, because Warren was willing to step into her place until Kevin found a part-time person to share Marley's job. Not only would this save Kevin a few bucks, it would take some pressure off Warren.

  The gallery was closed on Mondays, so Marley had planned to begin packing today. She'd made a good start on it too. She got up early, picked up some bundles of flat boxes from the moving store, then packed and filled a number of them until midafternoon, when she ran out of gas. She sat there in the midst of a sea of brown cardboard, wondering, Is this nuts? So she was moving to Clifden-but where did she plan to live? Had she even considered that?

  She picked up her phone and called Abby. When Abby didn't answer her house phone, Marley tried the cell number.

  "Oh, Abby," she said in relief after Abby finally answered. "You're just the one I need to talk to."

  "Marley?"

  "Yeah, it's me. Sorry. I'm in kind of a pickle."

  "A pickle?"

  Marley chuckled. "I quit my job at the gallery, and right now I'm packing up my apartment."

  "You're moving?"

  "Yes! To Clifden."

  "Really? You're moving here?" Abby's voice brightened considerably.

  "Yes. Is that crazy or what?"

  "It's great. Did you say you're packing already?"

  "It's my day off, so I thought I'd get an early start." Marley didn't confess that she worried she might not follow through if she didn't just jump in and get going.

  "Wow, that's really good news."

  "The question is, where will I live in Clifden?"

  "Where will you live?"

  "I have no idea."

  So Abby gave Marley the name and number of Lois Schuler, the realtor who had helped Janie. Marley thanked Abby and immediately called Lois.

  "Goodness," Lois said after Marley explained. "Abby should be working for the chamber."

  "The chamber?"

  "Of commerce. She's becoming the goodwill ambassador of Clifden. I think her plan is to move all her friends here."

  Marley laughed. "Well, a lot of us started out in Clifden."

  "So you know the town, then?"

  "Absolutely."

  "What do you think you're looking for?"

  Marley considered this. "Ideally?"

  "Why not?"

  "Ideally I'd like a lovely beach house."

  Lois cleared her throat. "Is money an object?"

  "Of course money is an object."

  Lois chuckled. "Sorry, but I had to ask. I just got this listing for a beautiful beach home."

  "Really?" Marley's hopes soared. "How much?"

  "Two point three million."

  Marley gulped as her hopes plunged.

  "A little out of your price range?"

  "About two million out of my price range."

  "Well, it never hurts to ask."

  "So do you have anything a little more economical?" Marley's settlement from the divorce wouldn't buy a mansion, but she hoped it would be enough for something special-a place she could call home.

  "Of course."

  "Really?" Marley's hopes climbed up one rung on the ladder.

  "It might not be a long list, but how about I start putting one together for you?"

  "That would be fantastic." Two rungs now.

  "So are you only interested in beachfront property, or are you open to something nearby?"

  "I guess I'm open." Marley considered this. "But a house with a view, well, that would be so great. You see, I'm an artist-actually, an artist whose artistic life has been on hold. And I think the ocean view would be inspiring."

  "I understand."

  "Even if it's just a little shack."

  "A shack?"

  "Well, it needs to be habitable. But a small beach bungalow, even one that needs work, would be okay."

  "Right. So a fixer maybe."

  "Nothing that needs major help, of course, but I'm happy to paint walls and make small fix-ups."

  "When do you plan to move here?"

  Marley looked up at the calendar. "As soon as possible. MidSeptember at the latest."

  "Wow, that is soon. I better get busy."

  "I suppose I could rent something at first." Marley didn't really want to rent. Renting sounded temporary. She wanted something permanent. Like an anchor, a place she could dig into and hold onto and live out the rest of her days.

  Lois promised to do some looking and to call back by tomorrow morning. After she hung up, Marley returned to filling her boxes with renewed energy. As she packed, she imagined herself settling into a lovely beachside home. She hoped that it would have vaulted, open-beamed ceilings and a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean and good light for painting. As she carefully wound bubble wrap around a
beloved old lamp of turquoise-blue hand-blown glass, she imagined herself filling this house with her treasures. It would be delightful to finally have room to spread things out and enjoy them.

  By midweek Lois had found an assortment of properties for Marley to consider. Unfortunately none of them resembled her dream house even slightly. Not that she could afford her dream house. That much was clear. But as she skimmed the photos of houses for sale in Clifden, she began to form some strong opinions. First of all, she would not live in a mobile home. No way. Second of all, she decided that she simply had to have something with an ocean view. It could be as tiny as her apartment, but she needed the view. Unfortunately there was nothing like that available.

  "All the beachfront properties are beyond your price limit," Lois explained once again. "Unless you think you can stretch yourself a bit financially."

  "I'd settle for a smaller house," Marley pleaded. "I don't need a bunch of bedrooms and baths."

  "I'll keep looking," Lois promised.

  Marley's hopes dropped back down to the bottom rung of the ladder again. Make that the ground. Or maybe beneath the ground. She questioned her decision to make Friday her last day in the gallery. She couldn't back out, though; Kevin was throwing her a little "surprise" party after they closed. Oh, what had she gotten herself into?

  Lois had assured Marley that there were apartments available in town. Not with ocean views, mind you, but it was possible that Marley could store her belongings and "camp" someplace until a desirable property magically appeared on the multiple listing. Marley did not want to "camp" anywhere, however. Perhaps she was being unrealistic or just plain stubborn. But she really wanted to move directly from her Seattle apartment into a real house. Was that too much to ask?

  "Here's to a future so bright you will need sunglasses every day of the rest of your life," Warren said as he toasted Marley at her going-away party Friday night.

  "Here's to needing sunglasses at all," added Tina. She was the gallery's accountant and had been complaining all day about the damp, gray weather.

  "And here's to creating art that will one day be displayed right here in this gallery," Kevin told her.

  She laughed. "Is that an invitation? Because I have witnesses."

  "Time will tell," he assured her.