Coming Home to You

by Liesel Schmidt

  “I’m not going to give you any hints, so stare as much as you want,” he said soberly. “I’m not giving away anything. I am a vault.”

  “Fine. Don’t. I don’t really care, anyway,” I replied sulkily, crossing my arms over my chest and scooting down in the passenger seat.

  “You’d better wipe that pout off your face, ’cause we’re here,” Ray announced, putting the car into park and releasing his seatbelt.

  I straightened up to look through the windshield and saw that we were parked in front of a real estate office. I turned to Ray, smiling.

  “You nerd,” I snorted. “You could have told me we were coming here. I would have come willingly,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out of the car.

  “Yes, I could have told you. But this was oh so much more fun.”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah? My, you are succinct. So what are you thinking right now?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “That this is weird. That I don’t really want to have to do this at all, if I’m going to be really honest about it.”

  “So what would you rather do—live in Neil’s house for the rest of your life?” Ray snorted.

  Would I?

  The thought had never really occurred to me, but if I truly considered it, it really wouldn’t be a bad arrangement. And I’d gotten so used to living there that I wasn’t so sure I liked the idea of having to leave it behind.

  Once Neil came home, though, things would be different. I really didn’t have a choice. It was his house, not mine. And I knew that any guy in his right mind wouldn’t want to share a house with some woman he didn’t know.

  Unless…

  I cocked an eyebrow at Ray.

  “Would he mind having a roommate?” I asked, trying my best to sound casual.

  “Um, yeah. No. He tried that a few times before, and it always blew up in his face, so I really don’t think he’d ever want to try it again. And besides, you’re a woman on the prowl. You need to have your own space to live your own life, you know?” He started walking toward the front door of the agency. “Now come on before we waste away your lunch hour,” he commanded, holding his hand out to me.

  “You know, I could have done this on my own. I’m an independent woman with oodles of business savvy. I did, after all, land an awesome store front for a paltry sum, remember?”

  “Yes, I do remember,” Ray replied with a laugh. “But I wanted to do this for you. What are friends for, huh? And am I hearing things, O savvy, independent business woman, or did you just say oodles?” He cocked an eyebrow and chuckled as he ushered me through the glass-fronted door.

  “Oh shut up,” I mumbled, walking through the open door into an overly air-conditioned office.

  Into the next phase of my fate.

  “Good afternoon,” the glossy-haired Barbie doll sitting at the reception desk chirped as we walked in. She flashed a winning smile. “Welcome to Dwell Properties, where our priority is to find somewhere for you not only to live, but to dwell. Is there something in particular I can help you folks with today?”

  I almost snickered at her use of the word folks and the corny, canned speech; but I refrained. I reasoned that it might not make such a good impression to insult the office staff after only three seconds in the door.

  Better to wait five.

  “Actually, there is,” Ray said, slipping his arm around my shoulder. “We’re needing to find a new apartment, and we’d like a little help finding one.”

  Barbie’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I’m sure we can help you with that. What are your names?” she asked brightly.

  “I’m Ray, and this is Zoë,” Ray answered before I could open my mouth.

  “I’m Josie. It’s so nice to meet you,” she gushed. “Let me get you in with one of our realtors, and she’ll have you set in no time.” She leaned over her desk to push a button on her phone, then picked up the handset. “It’s Josie. I have a lovely young couple out here that need your assistance in finding a new apartment. Should I send them in?” she said into the mouthpiece, never taking her eyes off Ray or me and never losing her high-wattage.

  She nodded.

  “Okay,” she said after a brief pause, then replaced the phone in its cradle.

  She clapped her hands together and stood up abruptly, still twinkling as she rounded her desk and came toward us.

  “You’re in luck. Our best agent is here and can see you right now, if you’ll just follow me.”

  She turned on her heel and sashayed down a narrow hallway that was painted a muted harvest gold.

  I caught Ray’s arm, pulling him close enough that Josie wouldn’t hear me.

  “We?” I hissed, shooting him a look. “What are you doing?”

  “Just trust me on this,” he hissed back, flashing a reassuring smile and marching me down the hall in pursuit of Josie and her sashaying hips.

  She was waiting for us in front of an antique-looking door, which she opened after two quick knocks. The office inside was spectacular, with exposed beams and cathedral windows, which were fronted by an antique farm table. Matte eggplant walls were bordered by rich white trim, a complement to the sleek, silver Mac that sat atop the table. Towering piles of folders flanked the computer, nearly obscuring the woman deeply engrossed in her work as we entered.

  “Sara, this is Ray and Zoë,” Josie smiled at us. “I’ll leave the three of you to discuss things,” she said, making her way out of the office.

  “Thank you, Josie,” Sara said, never glancing up from the paperwork she was signing.

  The door shut softly behind us, leaving Ray and me alone with Sara, who seemed not to notice that we were there. It gave me a minute to study her as she sat there, the queen of her well-appointed domain.

  There was something vaguely familiar about her, though I was at a loss as to why. She capped her pen and placed it on the papers, finally looking up at us. After flashing a superficial smile, she rose from her chair and extended her hand.

  “Hi, I’m Sara Maxwell.”

  Sara. This was the same Sara that was in the picture with Neil. I looked at Ray to see his reaction to the woman who stood in front of us. From the look on his face, I could tell he hadn’t expected to see her, either. He quickly recovered, though, accepting her hand and returning her smile.

  “Ms. Maxwell,” he said with a slight nod.

  Ray released her from the handshake quickly, allowing her to move on to me. There was no show of familiarity between them, no sign that they were long-lost friends who might have years to catch up on over coffee. Sara took my hand in hers, her grip firm and cool. She looked me in the eye a brief moment, then broke her gaze as soon as she let go of my hand.

  I glanced furtively at Ray, wondering what all this was about, but he was inscrutable.

  “Please,” Sara said, gesturing toward the two visitors’ chairs that fronted the table. “Take a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

  We arranged ourselves in the chairs as she moved back around the table and reclaimed her place behind the computer. Mouse clicking and keyboard tapping ensued, allowing me more time to sit back and study her.

  She was definitely older and harder-looking than she had been in the picture, which might have been one reason she hadn’t been immediately recognizable to me. Her hair was shorter, cut in an angular bob that was longer in the front than in the back, expensively and expertly highlighted. The angles of her face were sharper and more defined, and I wondered if she might have had some work done.

  “So tell me. What are you looking for in an apartment?” she asked, finally breaking the silence that had settled on the room.

  This was supposed to be my territory, but I really hadn’t been prepared to have to answer that question. I hadn’t even given it much thought in the past few months. I looked at Ray, hoping that he could sense my need for help. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair.

  “Well, we’d really like something with some good space. Nothing extr
avagant, because that’s simply not in our budget, but… One bedroom, one bath should be enough. A nice kitchen would be great, something with enough storage and counter space to actually use,” he listed off.

  “Something with good natural light? And I’d really like to stay at this end of Pensacola,” I added.

  She nodded, almost dismissively, as though she was only half-hearing what we were saying as she stared back at her computer screen. Her manner was sharp and harsh, seeming to match the angularity of her features.

  Ray and I looked at each other. I desperately wanted to ask him if he thought Sara’s lack of recognition was genuine, but I knew the questions would have to wait.

  “I think we have a few things in the area that would be of some interest to you,” Sara said, clicking some more things and tapping some more keys and sending things to various places and various printers. “Were you wanting to see any properties today, or would you like to set up a few walk-throughs so that you can take your time looking things over?” she asked, finally looking back at us.

  I shot Ray a bewildered look, and he nodded in understanding.

  “Well, we’re pushing it a little right now for time. If you wouldn’t mind getting a few properties together for us to look at, and we’ll schedule some time?” Ray was the most serious I’d ever seen him, and it was oddly unnerving.

  I watched Sara as she gathered papers from her printers and arranged them precisely and efficiently, the flow of her movements artful. She was quick, but nothing about her seemed hurried or frenetic. She was in complete control of her domain.

  Somehow, it made me feel incompetent in comparison. I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap, and realized that I was unconsciously toying with the naked ring finger of my left hand.

  I wanted to leave. I wanted to get up from my chair and run out of the office and never come back here. It was ridiculous, I knew, but I hated how the woman sitting in front of me made me feel. I glanced quickly at Sara’s left hand to check for a ring of any kind, but the only rings on her fingers were the kind that communicated a very large paycheck and very expensive taste.

  The room, though beautifully appointed, also showed no signs of a family life. There were a few personal touches, but no photos of vacations in Tahiti or Venice or any of the places one might expect to find a woman so financially sound. I wondered if there was a man in her life, or if it was something that she didn’t feel the need to announce.

  A mere detail of her life—the life of a very independent, very strong woman who needed no one to define her.

  On one hand, I envied the strength that she seemed to exude; but I couldn’t also help feeling a little sad for her. There was something undeniably there, like a scar. I wondered if it had anything to do with Neil, wondered what changes the relationship had wrought on her life. He was still walking around, a living and breathing reminder, while the catalyst in my own life was no longer there. I didn’t have the worry that the man I was no longer in a relationship with would round the corner at the grocery store and upend the control I had on my day. I didn’t have to worry that he would walk into a movie theater with another woman, unwittingly destroying the composure that was so carefully maintained on a daily basis. Maybe that was the one saving grace of death.

  I shook my head at the thought, reminding myself that all of this was mere conjecture on my part. I had no idea how the relationship had ended, who had been at fault, what had been the deciding factor that now separated these two lives. Hell, I didn’t even know if Neil was the cause of the changes in this woman who now replaced the soft, carefree woman I had seen in the photograph. It had been almost four years since that picture had been taken, and any number of things could have happened since then.

  And really, I didn’t have any idea of how long or how serious the relationship had been. They could have had a passing fling, a quick rendezvous in Paris that ended as quickly as it had begun. I had no idea, and Ray had been absolutely no help on that score. When I’d finally gotten around to asking him about the picture, he’d done nothing more than stare down at the seemingly blissful couple before shrugging noncommittally and telling me that they had ended things years ago. Apparently, it had not ended well.

  When Ray shifted in his chair and rose to shake Sara’s hand, I realized they had been talking the whole time I’d been sitting there ruminating. I’d missed the entire exchange.

  “I’ll call you on Wednesday, then,” she said with a reserved smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, and I wondered if she was always so impenetrable. Where were the chinks in her armor?

  Ray and I were sitting silently in the car, the soft idling of the engine the only soundtrack for all of the unspoken thoughts that hung heavily in the air.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  I looked at Ray, assessing his face and body language as he sat in the driver’s seat.

  “Ray,” I said finally. It sounded loud to my ears after the long silence. “What was that?”

  He shook his head helplessly, looking down at his hands.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I never expected to see her here.”

  “Her as in Sara?” I asked.

  He looked at me in surprise. “So you recognized her?”

  “Yes, Ray, I recognized her,” I answered. “So. Sara. I know who she is, Ray. Or was, I guess. But you still haven’t told me anything except that she’s Neil’s ex, and they didn’t leave things well.” I shifted in my seat to get a better view of Ray’s face. “What happened?”

  “That is one loaded question, Zoë.” He glanced at his watch. “And one that we don’t have time to go into right now, as much as you want an answer.”

  Ray reached for his seatbelt and buckled it, signaling his intent not to start a conversation that he couldn’t finish. He put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking space, his jaw set in deliberate concentration.

  I turned to face the road ahead of us, letting out a frustrated sigh. There were so many things that I wanted to ask, and now I was still having to wait. I didn’t want to have to wait anymore, and I certainly didn’t want to have to go back to work with my mind so occupied by all of the questions.

  “So when are you going to tell me?” I asked as patiently as I could manage.

  “I can see I’m not going to get a moment’s rest until you get all your answers, so if you have a free evening tonight, pencil me in. I’ll bring dinner.”

  I nodded. “Deal.”

  We let the conversation lapse until the car pulled into my office parking lot.

  “See you tonight,” I said, getting out of the car.

  “Tonight.”

  I watched as he pulled out of the lot, leaving me standing there, alone and full of curiosity.

  Chapter 19

  I was peeling the cheese off of my pizza while Ray stared at me, perplexed beyond words.

  “What?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “What? You’re sitting there, picking the cheese off of your pizza, and you ask me what? I should be the one asking what, not you. Or, actually, why? Why would you do such a thing? It’s unjust. It’s un-American. It’s just plain wrong,” he thundered.

  “It’s mine,” I replied breezily. “Which means I can deface it anyway I please.”

  I grinned and offered the skin of cheese to him, holding it by two fingers. “Ya want it?”

  Ray looked from the cheese to me, shaking his head sadly.

  “Dear, sweet Zoë. You have no idea, do you?” He picked up his plate of pizza and extended it to accept my cast-offs.

  “Oh, but I do.” I took my index finger and started scraping the tomato sauce from the crust.

  “Mmmmm,” I said, shoving a sauce-covered finger into my mouth.

  “You need to be in therapy,” Ray said in horror. He picked up the cheese I’d given him and folded it so that it would all fit into his mouth at once.

  “This from the man who refrigerates cookies,” I shot back, getting another finger ful
l of tomato sauce.

  “Dork.” Ray chewed his cheese.

  “Nice retort.”

  “That’s just how I roll,” he said with a grin.

  “Uh huh. Well, roll this way: what happened today?” I asked as I wiped my hands on a paper towel.

  “Ooh, the interrogation begins.” Ray shoved the last bite of his pizza in his mouth and leaned over the table, inspecting the contents of the box to find the best-looking pieces.

  “Well,” he said, swallowing as he mulled over the box. “Where do you want me to start?” He looked up at me.

  “How about from the beginning? The very beginning,” I said, pulling my denuded pizza crust apart into strips.

  Ray raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  “The beginning…” he repeated, trailing out on a puff of air.

  I wasn’t sure whether it was one of those wow-this-is-a-long-story kind of puffs of air, or if it was his way of politely dispelling a burp.

  I sniffed the air discreetly: maybe a little of both.

  “Let’s see,” he said, searching the ceiling. “You know that Neil and I have been best friends since we were little. But what you don’t know about is the time that we weren’t.” He paused to look at me.

  “There was a span of about four years that Neil and I didn’t talk. Not at all. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was in the military and busy and off in other places. He’s moved around a lot, to a lot of different bases; and it was kind of just one of those cool things that he actually ended up back here again. But those four years of not talking were because of Sara.” Ray’s narrative was suspended as he finally selected three more slices of pizza to pile on his plate and then took a large bite of one of them.

  I pondered as I chewed doughy pieces of topless crust, wondering if maybe Ray was going to tell me that he had been in love with Sara. Sam’s face floated to the fore of my mind, and I felt a sudden pang of guilt. Maybe I was bringing up something that was painful for Ray to talk about.

  “Are you okay to be talking about this?” I asked quietly.