Next To You

by Sandra Antonelli

  The comparison made Will a little uncomfortable, but he set that aside. ‘What happened to her?’

  Reg made a clicking sound with his tongue. ‘It was that awful car accident, the one that took my brother, Joe and his wife. They died before her little boy, but Drew hung on for a little while longer. His death … well, that was a quite a mess. Death, depression, pregnant lady hormones, sleep deprivation and all that stuff, it sort of makes you understand the suicide attempt, the affair, and why she put it all behind her to start over.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Will sat on the side of the mattress. ‘So severe postpartum depression then?’

  ‘That combined with acute stress disorder. I know you know about her stint in the loony bin, I mean the facility, and it did her a world of good. So has knowing you. Now, she’s a little tentative, a little unsure of herself, but trust me, she’s a whole person again. I wish I could say the same for Alex. He’s a walking ball of unrelenting piss, and he worries me sometimes. Puddin’ says she knows what she’s doing. She knows how to handle him.’ Reg chuckled. ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you, but she really likes you. Every time I talk to her it’s William this and William that. She’s quite sweet on you, you know.’

  ‘Is she?’ Will stood and smoothed out the rumples he’d made on the bed.

  ‘I’ve tried to encourage that.’

  ‘I like her too.’

  ‘Well, for God’s sake man, why aren’t you … that poor girl’s scared to death she’s going to betray some sacred oath! Listen, you know she’d wring my neck if she ever found out I was telling you all this, but what my niece needs is a good roll in the hay, a really good night of rumpy-pumpy and I think you’re just the white man for the job, Will.’

  Will burst out laughing. ‘Oh, do you now, Reg? I’m about to have coffee with your niece. Perhaps I should ask for her opinion on the matter?’

  ‘You’re such a card, Murphy,’ Reg said.

  ‘How about I make a few calls, check out a few things about Friday, and get back to you later today?’

  ‘Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.’ Reg cleared his throat. ‘You’re not really going to say anything to her about my theory, are you, Will?’

  ‘Do you remember that car lease you insisted on paying me to look at a few years ago, the one where the dealer had you overpaying?’

  ‘Yes, it was for that blue Lexus.’

  ‘You made yourself my client when you wrote me a check. Anything you’ve said in confidence since then falls under attorney-client privilege. At least that’s how I look at it.’

  ‘Would you at least think about my theory, Will?’

  ‘When you phrased it in such an appealing manner, how can I not?’ A moment later he walked up the hallway, stuffed a hankie in his jacket pocket as he crossed the landing, and let himself into Caroline’s place.

  She’d already left for work.

  Chapter 13

  William came over early, before she’d dressed.

  ‘I missed you yesterday and the day before,’ he said.

  She retied the sash of her bathrobe. ‘I’ve had early clients this week. How’s your jet lag?’

  ‘Gone, thanks to the miracle of melatonin. Is this a new coffee blend?’ he said, and pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar.

  He wore black motorcycle boots and leather pants, which made the blue coffee cup he held look so out of place. He needed a green bottle of beer and a black ink tattoo across his knuckles that said FREE WILL to give the picture of biker credibility.

  She’d never thought of it before, but did William have a tattoo? If he did, where was it hidden? On his back? On his shoulder? On his impressively firm ass?

  William had quite a nice ass. So few fifty-something guys had asses as nice William’s. Brad Pitt had a great fifty-something ass. So did George Clooney. Daniel Craig’s ass would be fabulous at fifty, but probably not as great was William’s was at fifty-six.

  He half leaned, half sat on the stool, and she looked at his leather-clad backside. Maybe it was the way the leather fit so snugly …

  Caroline drank the dregs in her cup. ‘The coffee?’ she said. ‘It’s Ethiopian.’

  He lifted the pot beside his left elbow, filled her cup, and topped up his own.

  ‘Thank you.’ She had a careful sip and held her cup against her chest. ‘Are you coming to dinner tonight?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She pursed her lips for a moment. ‘I know my uncle asked you to come to dinner at his,’ she held her jaw forward and did a credible Katherine Hepburn accent, ‘really top-drawer, old-money country club tonight.’

  ‘I am. You think this outfit’s square enough?’

  ‘You don’t have the guts to wear your leather to Foxhollow.’

  ‘Is that a challenge?’

  ‘Bock-bock-bock …’

  ‘Hey, don’t let this lily white exterior make you th—’

  ‘Caroline!’

  Coffee sloshed over the edge of her cup, cascading onto the pale green of her robe. She yanked the fabric from her skin, and set the cup down with a bang that splashed coffee on the tabletop. Batman raced through his doggie door, a multicolored dwarf greyhound after a rabbit. He rocketed towards the front, barking, snarling. Caroline was after him like a shot.

  There was a shout above Batman’s racket. ‘Get your damn dog away from me!’

  ‘Stand still! Stop moving around.’

  ‘Why, so he can bite me again?’

  ‘Batman, sit! Settle down. Settle! You’re supposed to knock before you come into someone’s home.’

  ‘Your door was wide open!’

  ‘How did you get in the building anyway?’ Caroline’s voice moved toward the kitchen.

  ‘That guy with the Hitler mustache let me in downstairs. Jeez, what a grouch. I showed him my driver’s license and I told him I was your …’ Alex came to a dead halt in the kitchen doorway. ‘Oh shit. He’s here.’

  ‘Be nice, Alex, or I’ll let go of the dog.’ Caroline glared. Then she took Batman outside.

  Two men eyed each other, Will’s distaste cloaked behind well-practiced silence, Alex’s hostility evident in his narrowed cloud-gray gaze.

  Alex said, ‘I heard the carnival’s back in town. I didn’t know it would be performing in Caroline’s kitchen.’

  Will’s tone was honeyed, ‘Maybe you’d better get a few tickets for the sideshow. You’re an infection she can’t get rid of, a cancerous growth that’s begging to be gnawed off. I hope you enjoy this breakfast, Alex, because chewing off your own fingers is the toughest workout your teeth are ever going to have.’

  ‘Yeah? Like what are you going to do with her here?’

  Will rose, his leather pants creaking like a door in a haunted house.

  Alex swallowed and took a step backward. ‘I bet a big freak like you gets lonely. She always had a thing for unwanted strays. That’s how she got that damn dog. Someone threw him out by the side of the road, and I brought him home. Now she’s got you and the mutt. You think either one of you are going to keep me from coming here? She wants to see me, whether you’re sniffing around hoping for a bone you’re never going to …’

  She came back in the kitchen. Will picked up his coffee and leaned his backside against the stool.

  Caroline latched the doggie door, took a seat, and looked at both men. The kitchen had a musky locker room scent. Alex was snorting Arabian-Stallion-at-the-starting-gate-ready-to-bolt agitated. A frown moved like a shadow across his face when William settled his hand on the back of her neck. William’s eyes had frozen in a thousand-yard stare on Alex. This was some kind of testosterone standoff that only estrogen would finish. ‘We talked about this, William,’ she said.

  He tapped his forefinger against this mouth. ‘Would you like me to leave, Caroline?’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Alex sniffed. ‘Maybe you should go, Mr. Casper.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Stay and finish your coffee, William.’

  ‘Are you g
oing to offer me coffee, Caroline?’

  ‘Is this a social visit, Alex? I thought I asked you to call first before you came over.’

  ‘Did you tell me to call? I must have misunderstood when I was here last time. We sorted a lot out that night, didn’t we? I’ve missed you.’

  Will watched Caroline’s ears turn pink. ‘What do you want today, Alex?’ she said.

  Alex stuffed his hand into the right pocket of his jeans. He came closer, disregarding Will, and said, ‘After everything that happened, I thought maybe I could do something for you. I’ve been hanging on to it for a while. Seeing how we’re finally talking again.’ He put his hand out to give her what he held in his fingers. ‘You said you had trouble knowing how you felt sometimes. I thought maybe you’d want it back. I know it meant something to you once.’

  Hesitating, frowning, Caroline took what he offered—and grunted as if she’d been punched in the stomach.

  Alex’s tone softened. ‘You had to take it off when Drew … well, you took it off before the baby died. Your feet and hands were swollen. Anyhow, I thought maybe you’d want to keep it.’

  Will watched her stared at a tiny object in her hand. Her shoulders sagged, her breath came out a creaking groan. Without a word, she hurried out of the kitchen, into the dining room. Her bedroom closed with a bang.

  Will got to his feet and he took a step toward Alex. ‘I don’t know what she sees in you, or why she wants to have anything to do with you, but plainly she doesn’t want to see you now.’

  Alex mumbled, walking backward out of the kitchen, his hands held up in front of his chest, ‘I know. This was a mistake. I’m leaving. I’m leaving.’ He nodded. ‘Maybe next time you can show me how to dine on phalanges de Alexander. Or maybe next time I’ll be lucky enough to find you’ve blown away like a dried white pile of her stupid dog’s shit.’

  ‘Congratulations. That was original.’

  Alex continued his retreat, humming a circusy-sounding tune, and Will continued to press forward, moving down the hall until Alex was on the other side of the apartment door. With that, Will turned the deadbolt lock with smug satisfaction. He went back down the hall, through the dining room, and walked straight into Caroline’s bedroom, without knocking.

  He expected she’d be in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet heaving, but she stood in the middle of the room, in a skirt and red blouse, a clenched fist grinding into her mouth, watching Batman through the French door that opened to the terrace.

  Will went around the foot of her bed, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Her blouse was unbuttoned.

  He tried to not look at her exposed décolletage, but her modest cleavage was right there, presented so prettily in a cotton bra that matched her blouse. ‘You all right, Squirt?’ he managed.

  ‘Did you hit him?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  She shrugged and raised her eyes to his.

  His gaze flicked between her face and breasts. ‘Forgive me,’ he said and turned away.

  She gave an absurd little laugh.

  ‘He disturbs you enormously, Caroline, he causes such trouble. Why do you …’ Will caught his tongue. She’d made it clear it was not his business, even if he wanted to make it his business. He did not want to admit to her, or to himself, that Alex had gotten under his thick skin. He was frustrated by her lack of insight over her own plight, by a need to protect her, by the boundaries of their friendship, but Will kept his mouth shut, and chalked the fact he’d liked intimidating Alex to all that frustration.

  She said, ‘He keeps getting things so wrong, and he doesn’t know it. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s a mess, but he’s trying. He’s trying. It’s not his nature to be cruel. Really. I know that wasn’t his intention, it’s never his intention. He’s not cruel.’

  Will faced her. She’d buttoned her blouse. Why are you covering this up? Why don’t you want to see? Your child died, and maybe you did leave him, maybe you did have an affair, but believing Alex when he says you’re solely responsible for his pain is twisted, psychological cruelty, Caroline. He said, ‘What did he give you?’

  ‘I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere, in every box, but I couldn’t find it.’ Caroline held up her right hand and twisted a large, rather ugly ring straight on her middle finger. ‘For my ever-changing moods.’

  ***

  Her birthday arrived quietly, although Will’s Fat Boy thundering off toward town interrupted the tranquility. He’d skipped coffee for an early appointment with Quincy at some muddy building site that was supposed to keep him tied up all day.

  She knew the feeling of being bound. Her own work was relentless. Stuart was out sick with the flu, which meant she had to run between Designer Menswear and Women’s Personal Shopping. Several clients had to wait, and they’d complained. But no one complained more than Charmaine Hellman.

  Charmaine grumbled from the dressing room. Items she’d chosen were draped over the desk. Clothes she’d vetoed were draped over the easy chair. Caroline typed Ms. Hellman’s client delivery information into a tablet computer.

  ‘Excuse me.’ A young woman with razor-cut shaggy hair stopped at the edge of the patterned rug. She had a beaded ring through her pencil-thin eyebrow, and carried a bouquet of flowers. ‘Hi, I’m looking for the Personal Shopping Stylist.’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘Here you go.’ The girl held out the flowers.

  ‘I’m sorry. Did someone order these?’

  ‘Ya-huh.’

  Charmaine hollered, ‘Caroline, bring back that other pair of black pants—that first pair.’

  ‘I’ll be right there, Ms. Hellman.’ She looked at the delivery girl. ‘Sorry, I don’t know anything about these.’

  The girl shrugged. ‘You’re not supposed to.’

  ‘Can you tell me who they’re for?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I don’t have all day!’ Charmaine yelled.

  Caroline looked over to the dressing room and then back at the girl. ‘Would you wait just a moment please?’ She took a pair of black wool trousers to Charmaine.

  ‘Christ, how unprofessional are you?’ Charmaine barked, snatching the pants.

  ‘Forgive me. We’re short-staffed today. I’m covering Personal Shopping and Menswear.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit.’

  Caroline nodded. ‘I understand. I’m sorry I kept you waiting. Can I get you anything else? I have the things you chose ready to go.’

  ‘Have them sent over to my office by four. Do you think you can do that?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Caroline closed the dressing room door, rolled her eyes, and made a face. Then she returned to the desk and the flower delivery.

  The girl had heard everything. She smiled. ‘So that’s Personal Shopping?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then these are for you. There’s a card.’ The girl stuffed her hand into the arrangement, poking around. ‘Well, there’s supposed to be a card … oh, here it is.’ She pulled the staple securing a little white envelope from tissue paper surrounding the bouquet, and handed it to Caroline. ‘Bye now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Caroline pulled a small square card from the envelope and read the handwritten note:

  Sweet Caroline (the one Neil Diamond sings about),

  Sorry about this, but I’ve got to round up a few head of cattle and I’ll be home too late to go with you. Hope all day is a happy birthday.

  Love, WmM

  The last time anyone sent her flowers was when she had been in the hospital, after the baby died. The room had been filled with boxed arrangements, vases, and baskets. There’d been all those flowers at Drew’s funeral, flowers she put on her parent’s graves. She’d shunned flowers since then. They’d taken on death as a connotation, but these flowers were different. This arrangement of multicolored carnations, yellow and burgundy chrysanthemums, and a few flowers she didn’t know the names for. These flowers had an affectionate
meaning behind them. Caroline looked at the flowers, and knew she wanted affection, craved affection, needed affection. William had gathered his friendly affection together in a pretty, thoughtful bunch.

  This was the best birthday she’d ever had.

  She reread the note.

  Black wool pants landed on the desk, covering the flowers. Charmaine huffed over her shoulder. ‘That’s what you were doing, reading a love note? This isn’t the first time, you know. The last time I was here you kept me waiting while you made out with your big boyfriend. Now you’re reading love notes.’

  ‘It’s my birthday. My friend sent me flowers.’

  ‘Work is not an appropriate place … oh never mind, I don’t have time for this bullshit. Make sure you send this stuff over to my office by four. If they’re late … so help me. Next time anything like this happens I’ll talk to your supervisor. You really piss me off, and the only reason I come here is because you’re always right about my clothes, and you were right this time too. That first pair of black pants made my ass look like a barge. I’ll take this pair with me now.’

  ‘Of course.’ Caroline rose, draping the black wool pants over her arm. When she turned to place them in a garment bag, Yvonne stood beside the clothes rack, smirking. ‘Hello Yvonne.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, lady, wait your turn.’

  Yvonne ignored the woman. ‘Hi,’ she said brightly. ‘So this is where you earn your crust? An old friend of Willie’s told him to try shopping like this about two years ago. I was always curious what he found so appealing about having someone else pick out his clothes.’

  ‘He picks out his own things. I just give him options to choose.’

  ‘Well he always looks good. I notice you’ve got him into a few colors I’ve never seen bef—’

  ‘Always with the socializing on my time,’ Charmaine yanked the pants from Caroline’s hands.

  ‘Excuse me!’ Yvonne said. ‘There’s no need to be rude.’

  ‘Look, I’m not,’ she looked Yvonne up and down, ‘out for lunch with the ladies. Wait your own damn turn because my time isn’t yours to waste. I have a real job. I’m professional, and I don’t keep my clients waiting.’ She glanced back at Caroline. ‘Add these to my account. I don’t need them wrapped. Swear to God, if I have to come back here because there’s a security tag stuck on these …’ She tossed the pants into a tote bag and stomped off.