Loving Piper

by Charlotte Lockheart

  She jumped up and headed for the sink. The flowers needed rearranging before there was any serious talk. She spotted a larger, multicolored glass vase on the window ledge and transferred the bouquet to it, remaining true to her maxim that a flower’s last moments shouldn’t be crowded ones. She’d better not tell that to Deirdre.

  “Deirdre to Piper…come in…okay, darling, that’s enough,” Deirdre said, suddenly serious. “Leave those flowers alone and tell me what’s going on.”

  Piper sighed and crisscrossed the room two more times before seating herself across from Deirdre. “In a nutshell…someone else seems to have been leading my life—taken up residency where I used to…reside, and whoever it is…botching it. I’m not happy.” The tears came with the words, Piper’s defences melting. “I’m lonely. I’m feeling unloved. And all this does not feel like it is the real me. What am I supposed to do?”

  “I see. I’m sorry, Piper, I should have noticed.” Deirdre’s medical tone warmed up. “I’ve been distracted myself with the new program the hospital dumped on me.” Then she resumed tapping on the keyboard. “Well, that’s water under the bridge. Where there’s a problem, there’s a resolution, so let’s start with the obvious—how’s your appetite?”

  Piper thought a moment before answering. “I’d say normal. You know I love to eat—still do.” She smoothed her hands down her sides over her waistline. How long had that bulge been there…?

  Deirdre was no-nonsense. “Good—and has your sleep pattern changed?”

  “No, or if it has, I’m sleeping a little longer,” Piper said, and yawned.

  “Okay. And school, anything happening there that I don’t know about?”

  “No, school’s pretty good.” Piper took another moment. “We have a couple of new teachers this year. They’re sweet, which goes a long way in that asylum. And my brats are pretty wonderful, actually, even this close to the end of the year. Can you remember being ten years old? I can’t, but anyhow...no teaching regrets today.”

  “Anything about your love life that you’ve been keeping under wraps?”

  Piper sputtered. “Hardly…you know as much about it as I do.” She stood up and began to pace again, her emotions surging. “I don’t even remember what a man feels like…that’s how long it’s been. And I don’t know where that appetite has gone, so it probably doesn’t matter, anyway.” Piper heard her own words and hung her head. “Oh, I just don’t know what I really want, Deirdre.”

  “That’ll change someday. Hmm, what about Kathleen, she’s finished her year. I haven’t heard much about the last semester. How did it go?”

  “Good—as far as I can tell. I know what you think about her choosing engineering, but she loves it. And her summer co-op seems to be working out. Never thought I’d hear her say she loves drafting, but…”

  The only sound was the clicking of keys. Deirdre was intent as she scanned the screen in front of her.

  “Hold on a minute, Piper, I’m taking a quick look at your medical profile, just to make sure I didn’t miss something. Not long since we did your blood work, and everything is okeydokey there, a great big boring normal—which really is great.” She lowered the top and pushed the device away from her. “Now back to what’s going on with you. I’m still feeling a little out of touch. Salsa dancing, sorry I never go with you anymore—how’s that these days?”

  “Haven’t been for a while.”

  “Uh-huh, I see. Still kick-boxing?”

  “Not exactly, well, no.”

  “Singing lessons…?” Deirdre swallowed loudly and lowered her head.

  “Not funny, and no, they, um, didn’t fit in. You don’t have to rub it in.”

  “I shouldn’t tease you, it’s great to have a voice that’s—” she cleared her throat “—so unique. So I’m supposing you’re engaged in less physical activity than in the past?”

  “I guess so, but I still run…sometimes,” Piper said, and started to jog on the spot.

  Deirdre leaned back in her chair. “Okay, then, so let’s say Monday last week. What happened when you got home from school?”

  “Uh, maybe I gardened a little,” Piper said.

  “And then…?”

  “Uh, maybe a little more puttering in the garden, then I made dinner—”

  “For one.” Deirdre said.

  “Yes, for one—it’s just me, after all.” Piper could hear the irritation in her voice and softened her tone. “Okay, after that, I probably looked over my lesson plan, watched a bit of TV, and then lights out. Short and sweet.”

  Deirdre guffawed. “All righty, I think I’m getting the full picture here, Piper. Boy oh boy, you know, some days I think being a GP is closer to detective work than hard-core medicine. Remember Ronny Plymouth.”

  “Ronny Plymouth! Ew, how could I forget him?” Piper was surprised to feel the relief created by the shift in focus to the awful PI from the past. “What a creep.” She was babbling now. “I never felt the same about army fatigues—or PIs, even on TV—after him. And it was your summer job, not mine!”

  “Yeah, you’re right, he was a creep—a creep’s creep.” Deirdre laughed. “But I did learn a few things from him, good lessons. Like the fact that there is never just one clue about what’s really going on with anyone. I mean, answers sometimes really do just come up behind you and hit you on the head like a hammer. I probably do need a bonk on the head, but coffee will have to do.” Seeming only now to remember the coffee, she slurped loudly. “So listen…I’ve sent the doctor home and called in the detective.”

  “You’re using that loud, satisfied voice. Okay, give it to me.”

  “Look Piper, I love wrapping up a case so quickly, especially since it’s you. Brace yourself. You have minor symptoms of empty-nest syndrome, and these symptoms have been exacerbated by the nothing-new-in-your-life disorder. In other words, kiddo, you’re lonely, you’re bored, and you need to get out there and do something different, shake things up a little. My considered opinion is that you need a man in your life.... Yes, that’ll work.”

  Piper nearly choked. Outrageous. She could barely respond civilly. “I don’t think so,” she said, her voice clipped. “You of all people should know that I don’t need another man in my life. One man was enough. Actually, one man was one man too many.” Then, in an attempt to both calm herself and sound more reasonable than she felt, she added, “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind a little physical contact. Perhaps you’re right…I could try to, add in a few more activities, and, uh, the odd fling!”

  Deirdre always saw through her. Piper could tell from her tone of voice. “Piper darling, relax, remember, all men aren’t so bad. And he wasn’t bad—you know that—you were just young. Plus, you and Manny have done perfectly well as separate entities raising Kathleen. I don’t know why you’re so rattled, you get along like a house on fire with Manny now. Anyhow, identification of any problem is essential, the starting point, so let’s get going. I am not insisting that you find a lifelong partner, and I do agree that a little healthy sex wouldn’t hurt you at this point.” Deidre made a chop-chop motion with her hands. “You’ve got your diagnosis—and you’ve got a suggested cure. Trust me on this one.”

  Chapter Two

  ROB FOLLOWED THE short, compact color consultant—Darlene, her name tag read—down another aisle to view the samples. The shades had taken on an alarmingly similar appearance and he felt himself sinking. This was not his world. Sandra had always taken care of things like this. But he was buoyed by the determination of the gray-haired saleswoman. Darlene was no shrinking violet in the world of wall treatments. Undaunted by the thousands of paint chips, she smiled at him while leafing through samples. And Rob couldn’t help noticing the lovely gray blue of her eyes, suggesting an older woman who knew her way around color and men.

  “You’re going to want to stay within the same color family here. You want warm and soothing…on the uplifting side but not too gregarious….yes, that’s right,” Darlene said, and nodded, when Rob
inadvertently touched a creamy white chip as he tried to get closer to the display. “You have to be courageous when painting, I mean it, and sometimes that means just saying no to audacity and yes to something more laid-back, more classic, really. Which I know doesn’t sound like courage, but it actually is.”

  “Yes, I mean, no—”

  “I don’t care what any of those gurus say. I mean it…just look at their paint jobs six months later. Passé, and either unbelievably boring or screaming, yes, I was painted six months ago when this awful shade was popular. Timeless, something you can sink into, that’s what you really want.” Darlene had such a passion for her job.

  “Yes, timeless sounds like what I—”

  “Held hostage by a garish wall? Nobody is looking for that, but well, it’s easy enough to do. It happens, we all know it happens, and then you’re back here, depressed and looking at another color scheme, when you should be at home in a smoking jacket passing out the martinis, for heaven’s sake. You shouldn’t even be noticing your walls, let alone giving them the power to embarrass you. Over here…now look at this…Cloud White, fabulous, you can’t go wrong with this.”

  The one-sided conversation was fine with Rob. He liked the direction Darlene was heading and he’d hang in with her until they reached the destination. And if the project took a turn for the worse, well, there was always that repainting she had mentioned.

  He went with her brand-name recommendation for a paint that was eco-friendly, non off-gassing and dirt resistant, with a warm matte finish.

  “And to think that two hours ago,” Rob said, “I thought paint was just…paint.”

  “No, sir, no such thing as ‘just paint,’” Darlene said, still enthusiastic. “But you’ve got a leg up on that now, so you’re good to go!” She slapped the lid of the last can of paint, gave it three knocks with a hammer and loaded the purchases back into Rob’s cart. Her attention was immediately snagged by a woman holding up two brushes, a perplexed look on her face. Rob thanked her again and headed for his car with paint, rollers, blades and stirrers, wondering how he could have already forgotten the name of the chosen color, the one that was head and shoulders above all others.

  Rob tried to tamp down on the pride he felt and was quite sure was leaching out of him as he opened the side door to his first prospective tenant. A young woman, so close—how would he handle this interaction right under his own roof. Speaking with her on the phone had been matter-of-fact, but now he noticed self-conscious nerves surfacing. He did not welcome this and he certainly didn’t want it to show through while interviewing her today. He took a step back and the young woman passed in front of him into the hallway.

  Victoria seemed pleasant enough and, a recent graduate of Seneca College, she had two part-time jobs—working reception for a nearby legal clinic and at a real estate office. She had been guaranteed eventual full-time employment at the real estate office. Rob thought that sounded promising. In person, Victoria was of medium height and build, pleasant looking and reserved. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a clip and she wore horn-rimmed glasses, a white cotton blouse and peasant skirt. A wholesome look. Rob decided immediately that she fell nicely within the parameters he had set for his dream tenant and was relieved that he felt no physical attraction to her. Too young, too reminiscent of fumbling college romances.

  He led her into the apartment and they sat on stools at the island counter. Victoria was chatty and, after answering some questions about the water pressure and the nearest subway stop, Rob doodled on his clipboard and allowed his mind to wander. He gazed affectionately at the clean white stove and fridge, recently installed in the freshly painted kitchen. He imagined Victoria had good housekeeping instincts—non-greasy ingredients in her cooking, lots of carrots probably, not someone who’d set off the smoke alarm. He’d bet she took cleanliness seriously, maybe had a schedule for regular housekeep—

  “…cats seem like a lot.” Victoria paused and appeared to wait for his reaction.

  “Excuse me, did you say nine cats?” Rob was all ears now.

  “Well, yes, there are nine, and a couple more on the way, but they are sweet little kitties and really are no trouble. I have a litter box for each one, and separate food bowls, too.”

  “That means nine litter boxes right now, and more later,” he said, and rubbed at his chin, thoughtful.

  She was an earnest advocate for her cats. Rob experienced a squeeze between his empathetic nature and his desire for a trouble-free rental.

  He surveyed the small apartment, and said, gently he hoped, “Look, Victoria, I’m sorry. In the ad, I forgot to mention anything about pets. I like cats, I even like dogs, but look at this place—it’s small, a nice size for one person, maybe even one cat, but, well…it’s just that nine is so far from one.”

  He stopped talking. It was likely the only way he could prevent himself from renting the apartment to her. For the first time, his confidence faltered. He needed a time-out.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Victoria.”

  An hour later, he waved goodbye as Victoria pulled away from the curb in a subcompact car. He wondered about the likelihood of fitting nine cats into it. They had walked up the stairs into the kitchen. He had made them tea and together they had combed the free dailies and the internet for a more appropriate rental. She was, as he had imagined right from the start, a sweet young woman. He’d gone beyond the call of duty, which he did not regret at all. He’d been happy to do it and was relieved that Victoria would not be returning as his tenant.

  Relieved, and deflated, too. Sandra wouldn’t have had all this trouble. She had always done what needed doing in a somewhat careless fashion, had made even the most difficult tasks appear easy. Rob did not have that gift. Another reminder of how incomplete he could feel these days. All the reassurance that Sandra had meant in his life, her firmness, in body and spirit. The yearning he felt was a visceral memory of deep physical contentment now turned empty and restless. The simple memory of touching Sandra’s neck…and then her back and hips…and then making love to her. Was he suffering a broken heart or was his body just starved for touch?

  He rose from the chair and walked back downstairs. For a few seconds he stood in the doorway to the apartment and then entered and wandered through the space. This was one of those turning point moments: to be alone in this venture, like all ventures now. Which way to go? There was no one to ask anymore, so he was solely responsible for the questions and the answers. If he stopped now, he might as well get out of the business of living. What an impossible thought…he would do this for Jennie. Everything he did, he did for his daughter now. Some of his earlier resilience began to assert itself as his internal voice prompted him: You are a capable man. Stick with the plan. He might not be able to find a good tenant as quickly and effectively as Sandra, but he could still do it. He would still do it. He’d done the heavy lifting: made the decision and readied the apartment. Stay the course.

  Make that adjust the course, he amended, and he considered what had gone well and what needed to be improved. He thought he deserved credit for his thorough inquiries from prospective tenants. The over-the-phone list of questions was substantial and he had opened a file for every caller. Overkill, he knew but hadn’t been able to curb that impulse. His methods generated the joys and sorrows that were inherent in excessive organization. Sandra had often teased: Rob sweetie, that is a talent that is occasionally useful.

  He opened one of the files and glanced over it, reconsidering his baseline for an adequate tenant. With the exception of Victoria, no one had reached that benchmark. He hadn’t even advanced to the stage of contacting references and running credit checks on other applicants. The process was more convoluted than he had imagined. Uncle, he thought. Maybe he should just advertise for a medium-height woman with stunning hazel eyes, a curvy athletic body with perfect breasts to cup in his searching hands, and a mind to match her strong looks. Sandra, he shivered and sighed. If this was the best he could do
, and the apartment remained empty, then he needed to delegate the task to someone else. He’d be better off calling in a professional. Rob checked his local business pages.

  Rent2U/Rent4U, Renting Rentals Is What We Do

  The sign had been hanging over a well-kept storefront on Bloor Street for years. Rob thought that no one could stay in business in a neighborhood for a decade if they offered substandard services, so they must be reputable. No extra marks for the slogan—or the rhyme—but he was about to lay the matter of the perfect tenant on their doorstep.

  Rob took in the sight of a long leg extending from the open car door. The car had been parked in his driveway for several minutes, the driver seemingly stuck half in, half out of the car. He could see that the woman was absorbed in a conversation on her cell phone. She was animated and…lovely, he thought, no, worried—no, he wasn’t sure, since he couldn’t clearly make out her facial features. Shoulder-length dark hair that hung loosely around her face, nice legs, well…one leg anyhow.

  Finally she closed her phone and he stepped back quickly against the wall, away from the window, not wanting her to catch him watching. He smoothed his shirtfront, walked to the side door, the shared entrance to the apartment and the main house, and opened the door.

  He had raised his hand, about to greet his potential tenant, when he saw her rise from the car, lose her balance and crumple to the ground. Rob bounded off the porch and was on his knees at her side within a matter of seconds.

  First-aid training ran through his mind as he looked closely at the woman. “Good, you’re breathing,” he whispered. Her eyes were closed and he wondered if she had hit her head on the open door as she fell. He lifted her limp arm and quickly took her pulse. It was steady, and not abnormally fast or slow. He looked at her face. Her skin tone was fair, one of those ivory shades, on the wan side at this moment. She didn’t appear to be in pain or have trouble breathing. She seemed younger but he knew, from the rental agency, that she was in her late thirties.