by Jo Leigh
She wasn’t going to confront Tony. Being the temporary woman in his life didn’t give her that right.
For another long block, she tried to make peace with the fact that, by tacit agreement, being the temp was what she’d signed up for. If she didn’t like it, she could call a halt to the whole thing.
The thought left her feeling incredibly sad.
By the time she reached Broadway, it occurred to her that there was nothing to be gained by sitting back and letting things happen to her. She’d never been that person. If she wanted something, she needed to take action.
Perhaps she’d been remiss in not introducing herself to her neighbors, assuring them that the noise coming from her house was temporary and she wouldn’t be ruining the neighborhood. It seemed likely that no welcoming committee was forthcoming, and she couldn’t blame anyone for that. The longer the situation went on, the more difficult it would be for even those with the best intentions.
The ball was in her court.
Hailing a taxi, she asked the driver to take her to the Lady M Boutique in Bryant Park, where she bought two mille crêpes signature cakes. Half an hour later, she had one beautifully boxed cake in hand as she knocked on the door of her neighbor Mrs. Masucci.
Someone else opened the door. A woman in her early thirties, with a cute bob haircut and a pretty sundress. Catherine recognized her. They hadn’t spoken but they’d nodded to each other, and the woman she assumed was Mrs. Masucci’s daughter had smiled.
“Hi, I’m Catherine Fox. Your next-door neighbor.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you.” She stepped back, opening the door wide. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Deanna Alberti. Please, come in.”
The house was much more modern than Catherine had expected. It had an open floor plan, a beautiful wooden staircase, and the kitchen was large with two ovens, a chef’s range and a double fridge.
Catherine held up the cake box. “I’m sorry it’s not homemade, but I’m afraid my kitchen is still under construction.”
“That’s very kind,” Deanna said. “Lady M? I’ve only been there once, but I’ll never forget that éclair.”
“I love it too much,” Catherine said, shaking her head. “You have no idea how many miles I’ve clocked on the stationary bike because of that evil place. I think I’ve pedaled across the Atlantic already.”
“I hear you. I was thinking of having a coffee. Can I tempt you to join me?”
“I’d love that, thank you.”
After leading her to the kitchen, Deanna went about fixing a pot of dark roast. Catherine had thought a lot about what to say on her way over, so after taking a seat at the big marble island, she dived right in. “I’m so sorry I haven’t introduced myself before now. My work schedule has been heavy, and then there’s been all the construction. I’m sure you all hate me for the noise. But I promise the loud part will be over soon.”
“I know what it’s like to remodel. This whole floor was redone two years ago, just before my family and I moved back from upstate. We live on the ground floor, and my mother’s suite is on the top floor. We share this space, and try to cook and eat as a family, although we’re all so busy, dinner is hit and miss.”
“It must be wonderful, though, when you manage it.”
“Your family isn’t here?”
“No. They’re in Europe. I don’t get to see them that often.”
“That must be lonely.”
“I have work friends, which is nice. I figure it’ll take me some time to find my place here. Although it’ll be a lot easier once the house is finished.”
Deanna seemed puzzled, but she turned away to get two mugs down from the cupboard. “I didn’t realize you were staying,” she said.
“Yes, everyone assumes I’m going to flip the house.”
“Well, there’s a lot of that happening around here now. Everything’s changed so much since I was a kid. Little Italy had a real presence then, not just a few blocks.”
Catherine nodded. “I’ve seen pictures and heard a lot about the neighborhood from the fifties through the eighties. Did you know the Calabrese family that used to live next door?”
“All my life. But after their mother died, the kids all wanted to go in different directions.”
“That’s how I came to the house, actually. You knew Belaflore, then?”
“Ah, the grandmother.” Deanna shook her head. “I know of her, but she had already gone before I was born. I think she left the country to work for a diplomat or ambassador. Something along those lines.”
“My family. She was my nanny. The person I was closest to in the world. She used to tell me stories about when she lived here. When the house came up for sale, I had to have it. It felt as if I already knew the neighborhood. Probably because I associated it with Belaflore,” Catherine said, feeling nostalgic. “We moved around so much I never really had a place that I could call home, and this felt right.”
“Oh, God. I feel terrible that I didn’t go over and introduce myself. We thought you’d sell it and be out of here.”
“It’s fine, really,” Catherine said, although she couldn’t deny the relief she felt over realizing she hadn’t been snubbed.
“Well, I’m glad you came over.” Deanna handed her a mug of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Sugar, thanks.”
After Deanna sat down, she opened the cake box. Her smile lit up her face. “This is their famous cake, right? The mille crêpes? It’s like eighty dollars or something.” She brought out a cake plate, but as she opened a drawer of utensils, she stopped still. “That was tactless of me. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have two kids—I’m sure you’ve heard their big mouths—so I never dreamed I’d be getting a taste of this. Now, Twinkies I’m familiar with.”
Catherine laughed. “No problem.” She liked the woman even more.
“Would you like a slice?”
Catherine shook her head. “It’s all yours. Go for it.”
Deanna took her seat once more. Catherine was so pleased about how things were going she wanted to kick herself for not doing this sooner. “I know it sounds silly, but my view of the house, of the whole neighborhood, was very romantic. Belaflore should have been a writer. She told the most wonderful stories. It wasn’t until I started looking into the history of the place that I discovered some of what she’d described. Now I can’t get enough of the beautiful artifacts from the twenties and thirties. Fortunately, my contractor is helping me tremendously. He’s very well acquainted with restoration.”
Deanna smiled. “Tony Paladino.” It wasn’t a question. She’d obviously seen Tony coming and going. Thankfully, there wasn’t anything mean or judgmental in her expression. “You’re lucky.”
Catherine braced herself. Please, don’t let this conversation turn personal.
“They’re the most reliable contractors in the Lower East Side. They did all of the work in this house.”
“Ah.” Catherine relaxed and glanced around. “Very nice.”
“All three brothers are really good guys, and they were weaned on construction. I’ve known them forever. I was a year behind Tony in school,” Deanna said with a spark of mischief in her eye. “He was pretty notorious back in the day.”
Catherine tried not to show any reaction to the woman’s teasing. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Of course you have to know he was the best-looking guy in his class. It wasn’t fair, really. All three brothers were hit hard with the handsome stick. But Tony. He was a jock—the quarterback, naturally. Every girl wanted him.”
“Did he end up with the head cheerleader?”
“No. He didn’t really have a girlfriend until middle of junior year. That’s when he hooked up with Angie. They were on and off for a while, but eventually they got married. As I’m sure you know, it didn’t work out. I
don’t think I ever heard the real reason why. Just rumors.”
“Those do run pretty thick down these streets.”
Deanna rolled her eyes as she chuckled. “It’s the most important currency in town, especially for my mother’s generation. They were all stay-at-home moms or they worked in the family shops. I think it’s still a bone of contention that many of their daughters want to have their own jobs and be independent.”
“I can imagine.”
“It gives them something to talk about after church.”
Catherine sipped her coffee, hoping she and Tony weren’t today’s topic of conversation. Then she thought about his mother, and wondered if that attitude toward working mothers had been instrumental in Tony’s breakup with Angie.
“I wanted to mention that I’m installing a rooftop garden,” Catherine said. “Six sizable raised beds for vegetables, a small greenhouse for winter, some trees and flowers. I’m having a separate entryway built so that you and your family, and other neighbors, can plant and harvest whatever you grow.”
“Seriously?” Deanna seemed genuinely excited. “That’s very generous.”
“I caught the bug at work. We have community gardens that are lovely. It’s such a great way to meet people. Unfortunately, there’s going to be a crane involved, but not for long. Just know I’m not doing it to punish anyone. It should only take a day for everything to be lifted up.”
“I think that’s a wonder—”
Behind Catherine, the front door opened. One look at Deanna’s face told her that Mrs. Masucci had come home.
“Mama,” she said. “Mrs. Soriano. I’ve made fresh coffee. And look, we have a guest. She brought this amazing cake for us. Isn’t that nice?”
Catherine stood and faced her two neighbors. Yes, these were the two women she’d bumped into before. “Hello. I’m Catherine Fox. I live in the old Calabrese house.” She held out her hand to Mrs. Masucci first. Instead of a ready hand, she was given a look that was equal parts surprise and shock. Then the hand came out and it was like shaking a cold, wet noodle. But Catherine didn’t give up.
She held her hand out to Mrs. Soriano. “And of course, we’ve met. I was going to come properly introduce myself later today. I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long.”
The return handshake was just as unenthusiastic. Both women were clearly not pleased that she’d come by.
“Catherine’s installing a rooftop garden next door,” Deanna said, trying hard to sound upbeat. “And she’s invited us to plant whatever vegetables we’d like. She’s even putting in a separate access so we can come and go.”
Mrs. Masucci nodded, as neutral a comment as was possible. Then she leaned slightly to her right, and said in Italian, “It’s from a bakery. What kind of person doesn’t do her own baking?”
“She doesn’t know better,” Mrs. Soriano replied, also in Italian.
“Mom,” Deanna said, her tone sharp. Embarrassed. “It’s extremely generous of Catherine to offer her garden space. You’re always saying it’s a shame we have no real garden.”
“I grow tomatoes in the pots,” her mother said, this time in English. “They do well.”
“Yes,” Deanna said. “But we’ll be able to grow lettuce, peppers. Whatever we like.”
Her mother, who must have been in her late sixties, stood with a straight back and an uncompromising gaze. There was no attempt to make Catherine feel welcome. In fact, it was just the opposite. The older woman shifted her handbag to her other arm. “So, you’ll be putting the house up for sale when you finish?”
“Actually, no.” Catherine stood up straighter herself, although she didn’t want to make Deanna feel uncomfortable. “I’m planning on staying.”
Her Italian whisper carrying well into the kitchen, Mrs. Soriano muttered, “Not if we can help it.”
Catherine turned and smiled at Deanna, who was staring daggers at the older ladies. “Thank you for the coffee. I really must be going.” She turned to the two women and in perfect Italian said, “And thank you for your kind welcome to the area. This visit has been very enlightening.”
Then she walked out of the house without looking back, went straight into her own kitchen, where she’d left the cake for Mrs. Soriano, and dropped the entire thing into the garbage.
17
FINALLY, GEORGE HAD come through with the glass blocks for the master shower to match the originals that Tony and Catherine had discovered were in one of the earliest designs. They’d been delivered on Tuesday, and Tony was able to book the rooftop garden designer to come on Wednesday evening. But none of that mattered now. Tony had been very anxious to see Catherine. Since he’d left her on Sunday, they’d talked on the phone, but she’d worked late two nights. He’d apologized again and told her he’d put together some clothes to leave at her house...just in case. He’d thought they’d worked things out.
Now that the plumbing and hardware were complete in the master bathroom, he and Catherine were installing the semiopaque glass. The job wasn’t difficult. Aside from the material, it was simple masonry, which he’d been doing since he was a kid. He’d gotten to her place on time, having cleared his schedule to meet her just after she’d arrived home from work. She’d even put on music that was from this decade, which was a nice change from classical.
And yet...
Something was wrong. He’d noticed it immediately. Catherine had kissed him hello, but it had been quick, perfunctory. Which in itself wasn’t alarming. But that had been only the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t seem excited about the wall and she should have been. Had been when they’d discussed it. And she was able to participate because the project was just her speed. She’d come to like feeling as if she was part of the restoration process. It was her chance to make the shower her own, show off how much she’d learned. She loved that stuff. But he hesitated to say anything. Maybe she was just having one of those days. Maybe something had happened at work. Maybe a lot of things.
If she hadn’t kept avoiding his gaze, he wouldn’t have brought it up, but he couldn’t not. “Catherine?”
“Yes?” she said, too quickly. Too brightly.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” she said, giving him a token smile before she focused on the next block. “Everything’s fine.”
He set down his trowel, covered the mortar and put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped at the contact. “I might be able to help if you tell me what’s going on.”
She took a deep breath and finally looked at him. “I’m sorry to drop a bomb so late in the game, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve decided to scale back my plans for the garden.”
He could feel her tense under his hands, so he let her go, but stayed close. “What do you mean, scale back?”
“A community garden is a lot of work. I think I’m going to just do a couple of raised beds, enough for my own use. And, you know, it was kind of ridiculous to think about a whirlpool up there. I’ll probably just go with the greenhouse instead, and four trees should be plenty. Oh, and I’ll need to cancel the outdoor staircase.”
The way she talked was utterly unlike her. It was as if her inner light had dimmed. He hated it. “Is this about the cost?”
“No. I told you, that’s not the problem.”
“You could hire people to maintain the garden and the tub. All of it. Tailor it to your needs.”
“Thanks. I know. I didn’t want it to be like that, though. And with the unpredictable winters here—I don’t know. It just feels like too much.”
“I’m confused. Did something happen? Did I do or say—?”
“No. I’ve just changed my mind, that’s all.”
She went over to her newly installed tempered glass sink and washed her hands. No grinning, no playing with the hardware. It had taken her forever
to decide on the precise color of that damn sink, and it was far too new to have become part of the wallpaper.
“Seriously. It’s not about you at all,” she said. “In fact, I finally understand what you meant about the neighborhood. Don’t worry about it, though. Everything’s fine. I mean, now is the time to change my mind, right? I’ll pay for the staircase if he’s already built it. Anyway, I didn’t give up on my jetted bathtub...” She sighed as she dried her hands, then turned back to him. Her smile was sweet and sad. And when she pulled him down for a kiss, he could almost taste her melancholy.
It was bewildering. This wasn’t his Catherine. “When you said you understand what I meant...did one of your neighbors come by and act like a jerk?”
“No. But I did go next door.”
“To the Masucci place?” He waited, watching her eyes, the details of the face he’d gotten to know so well. His heart raced, his gut tightened and everything in him called out to take action. To fix this.
* * *
CATHERINE HESITATED. HIS expression was so full of concern she ached for him. It was clear he’d already guessed that the visit hadn’t been ideal. In fact, she was sure he knew exactly the kind of reception she’d received.
“I met Deanna. You went to school with her, although she wasn’t in your grade.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“She was very nice. Made coffee. I explained why I hadn’t introduced myself before. I mean, I’d made it difficult for anyone to come by, what with me working so much, and the construction. I told her that the noise wouldn’t be bad for too much longer. She understood. It was very pleasant. I mentioned the garden, but I learned that her mother grows her own tomatoes. In pots. I think they have a little area in the back of their house.”
Catherine turned to the half-finished glass wall and picked up a block. But Tony didn’t take the hint—he just kept staring at her. Waiting, she imagined, for the punch line.
“Deanna liked the idea that they’d be able to grow a variety of vegetables. Peppers, lettuce. They cook together, from what she said. She and her family live in the garden apartment, and her mother lives up on the top floor, and they share the main space in the middle. Huh. I wonder how long that’s going to last? The mother’s getting up there in age. She might not have an easy time with the stairs.”