Foxy's Tale

by Karen Cantwell

  Amanda couldn’t help giggling at him. To cover this urge she wandered to the window and looked down at the street, her hand over her mouth. Knot was making the last dinner preparations and the scents arising from the kitchen made Amanda’s mouth water. She was thinking maybe she should look into cooking school instead of college, or at least for a summer, and then, as she was casually scanning the street below, she spotted a car that looked exactly like Nick’s, front fender dent and all. There couldn’t have been two old BMWs with that dent, and she looked more closely. It was parked under a street light, and she could see someone sitting at the wheel. She had an urge to run down and see if it was him. Instead she ran upstairs to her bedroom.

  “Amanda,” Knot called after her. “Where are you going? We’re about to sit down to eat. Everything’s ready.”

  “Be right down,” she called back down the stairs. She located her cell phone and shot Nick a short text. Where R U? She watched the phone as she walked back downstairs slowly and, ding, he texted her back. Outside yur apt.

  They exchanged two more texts and, by the time she reached the kitchen to ask Knot if he needed any help serving, the front bell rang.

  “We’re having one more for dinner,” Amanda told Knot and pushed the buzzer to let Nick in.

  For some reason, Nick’s arrival perked Myron up. He acted like a host, introducing Nick to everyone and shepherding him through the living room to the makeshift bar, where Nick asked for a ginger ale.

  “So, you know each other from the school?” he asked, although it was Myron’s way of making a statement.

  Nick nodded as he glanced around the room.

  “Nick’s a senior. I’m a junior.” Amanda wanted Nick to feel comfortable, but at the same time she was dying to get him alone to find out why he was lurking outside her house.

  “This is nice,” Nick told her. “A nice house. I wish I lived in the city. So much more happening.”

  Myron’s head bobbed. “Nickel, a nice house is a great gift. I know. I lived in some not so nice and nice is better. Oy, life can throw some curving balls at you, and you have to get out of the vay fast like a rocker.”

  Amanda couldn’t hold back a giggle this time. “You mean a rocket?” she asked.

  “Eh, rocker, rocket, schmocket, it’s all going by fast.” Myron frowned a little at his own confusion.

  “You’re so right, Mr. Standlish,” Congressman X called out from his position mid-living room, where he’d just executed a rumba step. “Fast and furious. I could barely keep up with the last campaign. So much to do all the time. I have to serve my constituents, raise money for the next election cycle, look at the bills on the floor, serve on committees. The minute I turn around it’s time to run again. And those damned democrats never give us a moment’s peace.” He looked over at Knot who was motioning everyone to the table. “And here’s dinner. Do I have time for one more teeny meany martini?” he asked Knot.

  “No more for you, sugar. Any more, and you’re going to talk yourself right onto the nightly news. I made this gorgeous Coq au Vin. Look at her. Isn’t she just luscious?”

  Congressman X, who was now completely loosened up, quipped, “I love Coq, any way you cook it.” Then he laughed at his pun and slapped his thigh.

  “I think we’d better get some food into you before you do some real damage,” Knot said as they took their seats around the table. Knot put Myron at the head and he sat at the opposite end with Congressman X at his right and Amanda at his left next to Nick. At the empty place he’d plugged in a warming tray for the food. The congressman stumbled over his chair and almost fell. Amanda exchanged a wink with Nick and watched to see if Myron would eat anything, something she’d never seen him do.

  “Such food,” said Myron. “A nice table, like I never get to see.”

  “Don’t you cook for yourself?” Amanda asked.

  “Oy, at my age, it’s not so good to eat. Only for special.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “I’m afraid to go home,” Nick said as he wiped the table with a damp cloth. Amanda had offered to clean up the kitchen. Myron thanked them for inviting him and said he had an engagement that he could not put off, which gave Knot an excuse to “show” Leonard, the congressman, his apartment downstairs. Amanda knew full well that he had not only seen it but had probably been intimate in more than one way in just about every nook and cranny of the place. She let it go though, because she wanted to find out what was going on with Nick.

  “What happened?”

  “She’s going after my father. And he’s too weak to fight her off.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought . . .” but she didn’t want to say what she thought so she added, “Physically too weak?” She was really confused. “Or what?”

  Nick sighed. He stood by the table holding the cloth and staring at nothing, completely lost in his own thoughts. “I guess both.”

  Amanda still didn’t know anything about Nick’s family. “I mean, well, is your father sick or something?” She’d stacked the dishwasher and washed the pans. All that was left were wine glasses and the chocolate mousse. “Do you want to finish the mousse?” She was not at all sure Nick was going to tell her much of anything.

  He picked up a clean spoon and tore through first one remaining mousse and then the last one. “These are really good,” he said, licking his lips. He seemed pensive for a few minutes and Amanda was silent, loading the last two dishes and the spoon he just used into the dishwasher. She waited and watched him as she squeezed out some creamy green detergent. She shut the door and pushed the button. The thing started with a soft whoosh.

  “Do you want to sit down in the living room?” She started for the couch and then remembered the CDs Leonard brought. She started Miles Davis over and sat with her legs curled under her, long black sleeves hiding her hands. She grasped for something to say. “So. Leonard. He’s . . . interesting, huh?”

  “Yeah. Kinda sketchy, in an in-the-closet sort of way. But he seemed like an okay guy.”

  “Once Kuh-not got him toasted,” Amanda laughed.

  Nick sat down next to her. “Hey,” he started. “I’m sorry about just showing up here. And for all the . . .” Every time he got close to talking about the note, he hesitated. It was as if he wanted to tell her the whole story but he just couldn’t. “For all the mess.” There. He’d summed it up for himself and that was that.

  “If you won’t tell me, then maybe you could tell your counselor at school. Is it something with your dad? I mean, if he’s sick and he can’t help you.”

  “It’s not that he’s sick exactly,” Nick shook his head slowly and Amanda had this urge to take his hand.

  She reached out and wound her fingers between his and held his hand without saying anything. He turned to her with that look he’d had on the bench the other day. He looked so miserable that she squeezed his hand and he suddenly turned to her and leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mouth. She was a little stunned, but he didn’t move so she didn’t either. He lifted his other hand to her face and stroked it lightly and let it fall to her neck. And then he released her hand and his hands cupped her face and he turned to her so that now they were really kissing and it was no longer tentative but searching, and a bit smoldering. He pressed against her and she let him. Before she realized what she was doing, her arms were around him and they were leaning back on the couch until she was lying on her back and he was lying on top of her and they were still kissing. She lost track of time and stopped thinking. Her body churned with feelings she’d only imagined and soon his hands were moving from her face to her neck and under her sweater.

  All of a sudden he released her and stood up. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Amanda. I’m so sorry. I should go. I don’t want anything to happen. I’m really sorry.”

  He picked up his jacket and headed for the door before Amanda even realized that things had shifted again. “No,” she blurted out, “don’t go. You said you were afraid to go home. You can stay here
tonight. Really. It’s okay.”

  He turned as he slid his jacket on and zipped it up. “Really? After that? I don’t think so. It’s not such a hot idea. I mean I’d like to, you know I would. But look what happened. It wouldn’t be right. And with your mom gone. No. I couldn’t. I’ll call you tomorrow.” And he walked out the door and shut it softly behind him.

  On the stairs he met Knot coming back to Foxy’s apartment.

  “Are you leaving already?” Knot’s eyes were red. It was obvious he and Leonard had been drinking. “Leonard had to go, too. Poor me. All alone on Friday night.” He shrugged one shoulder diffidently. “Well, I did promised Foxy to be a good celibate baby sitter, so I’ll just have to make the best of it. But I thought you’d stay and we could watch a movie or something to pass the time.”

  “Sorry,” Nick told him. “I have to get home.” He smiled weakly and took the stairs down two at a time. When he got in his car and turned on the ignition he saw the other note, the one he’d tossed on the dashboard before he drove into the city. He’d have to do something about this. He was just not sure what.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Carter Edwards and Foxy Anders left the Convention Center together. It was early; the sun was low in the sky but still warmed the air. Carter gave his parking ticket to an attendant and they waited in front of the four-story glass panels that reflected a line of royal palms planted along the edge of the semicircular entryway. Bright magenta bougainvillea bloomed in a long hedge and the soft late afternoon air made Foxy feel almost giddy. Carter suggested they go into Palm Beach for a post-show drink. He convinced Foxy she’d had a full day of work and deserved to kick back. She didn’t need much convincing. When his silver Jag pulled up, Foxy felt even happier. Although it was only a rental, she accepted anything expensive as her due, and she slid into the leather seat easily. Off they went, into the eight-lane road that led to one of three bridges that crossed the Intracoastal Waterway to that thin strip known as Palm Beach. The water separated West Palm Beach from Palm Beach, but it was less like a physical separation and more like entering a different dimension. On what was known locally as “the island,” streets had names like Oleander, Brazilian, Primavera, and Seaspray.

  Carter suggested a little drive up and down the island before heading for Ta-boo, the local hangout for the rich and decadent. Of course Foxy had seen big houses before. She’d once lived in a big house. But she’d never seen anything like these mansions or the walls surrounding them or the outrageous wealth they represented.

  “Wow,” she breathed as they passed a three story mansion. It was so big she couldn’t even tell where it ended. A Rolls Royce and a Bentley were parked in the elegantly curved drive along with an Aston Martin and a BMW, which in this company looked like a poor cousin. “How many people live there?”

  “That’s just a winter house. It’s only occupied about three months a year,” Carter told her nonchalantly.

  “How do you know?” she asked as she craned her neck to get a glimpse behind the disappearing wall. She might as well not have bothered, as the next house was equally impressive. The plantings were meticulously maintained everywhere. High walls were covered with vines that had been clipped and trained into intricate patterns. There were gigantic terra cotta pots at either side of one entrance, pots large enough to themselves house a family of four. And gates. Hand-carved cypress with huge arches and latches that belonged in a fairytale full of giants. And the flowers. Everywhere she looked blooms abounded.

  “Boy, it really pays to be rich, doesn’t it? I wonder how all these people got so much money.” Foxy sat back as they cruised along South Ocean Boulevard. The ocean to her right was a deep blue with short choppy waves that burst into white foam as they reached shallow water. She sighed. “I don’t know. This looks like a great way to live.”

  “Better than working isn’t it?” Carter mused, and for the first time Foxy felt as if she was seeing the real Carter.

  “What do you do?” she asked him. It was a standard question, innocent in its simplicity.

  “Oh, this and that,” he was vague enough for Foxy to be intrigued and a little worried. After all, she really knew nothing about him. Anyway, he surely couldn’t be after her money. She’d made it quite clear that she was basically broke, paying off her husband’s debts, and running an antique store – well, almost an antique store – to pay the bills. She was wondering whether she should ask for more detail, when he said, “Basically I’m living on interest.”

  “Oh, so you don’t have to work?”

  “Anyone who works has to work. I know very few people who, given the choice and the chance, would choose work over so many other pursuits that are so much more satisfying.” He pointed to a long wall beyond which stood a solid, stucco-covered concrete house painted white, with a huge curved driveway and what looked like two enormous house wings. “That woman inherited eight hundred fifty million dollars when her husband died, and I’ve heard he had it set up in such a way that she kept it all. She has two grown daughters who hate each other. So she built that monstrosity with the express purpose of giving each of them a separate house with hers in the middle. That way neither sister ever has to come into contact with the other, even if they’re here at the same time. It took three years to build, and when it was finished the final cost – or so the word is on the island – was forty million. That includes two pools, tennis court, servant house, landscaping, and an elevator so she doesn’t have to walk one flight up – or down, presumably.”

  Foxy stared at the house as they passed. There was nothing about it that appealed to her, but it was huge. They seemed to drive and drive until they finally reached the end of the property. “I suppose you’re right,” she said wistfully. “I wouldn’t have opened an antique store if I hadn’t inherited the building and had to make a living. I never had to think about money before this. Never. First my parents took care of all that and then I thought my husband was taking care of it. It’s easy to believe you’re all set and then find out you’re not. I’ve learned that. The hard way. I guess you took care of everything for your wife.”

  Carter drove around a curve and the ocean was hidden for a few minutes. At the end of the curve it came back into view. He said nothing and they drove along close enough to the water that Foxy could see every wave clearly.

  “This is the most expensive part of the island,” he said. Indeed they drove past mansion after mansion, each more spectacular than the last, each with its own particular take on opulence. There were oversized lions atop pillars guarding driveway entrances, houses that had archways that seemed to float, connecting main house to guest house. Except for gardeners’ trucks, all Foxy saw were more Rolls and Bentleys and Mercedes and even a Ferrari. “We’re heading into town now. Ta-boo is on Worth Avenue. You know Worth Avenue?” he asked.

  “Isn’t that the shopping street?” Of course Foxy’d heard of that.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Amanda heard the tapping before she was really awake. She fumbled around for her clock, turned it, and saw it was only eight. She blinked a couple of times and heard the tapping again, this time a little louder, and then remembered that Myron had permission to look around for whatever it was he thought might be hiding behind the walls. She sat up and focused. She thought about texting Nick, wondered what happened when he went home. She stretched and yawned like a cat. The tapping was closer now. She tossed on some sweats, ran a comb through her hair, and bounded downstairs to the front door.

  When she opened it, there was Myron on the steps just below her landing, his head cocked to one side like a robin listening for a worm. Instead of a treasure locked inside a wall, he heard Amanda’s door. He was startled and his foot slipped over the edge of the step and he slid down – kaplunk kaplunk, one, two, three steps – until he landed on his knees with his hands gripping a railing post.

  “Ach,” he grunted and looked up at Amanda. “I’m all over my feet stepping.”

  “Are you ok
ay?” Amanda stepped out onto the landing to check him.

  He stood, brushed himself off a bit, and told her, “It’s okey dokey for my tapping. Your Mama said so. A kind lady.”

  Amanda frowned. Foxy kind? She could think of a lot of words to describe Foxy, but kind did not readily spring to mind. She left her door open and leaned over the stairwell. “Mr. Standlish, what are you looking for anyway?”

  “Anyvay? Vaht is this anyvay?”

  “It’s just an expression. But what are you looking for? Maybe I can help you if you tell me what it is.”

  He looked up with confusion spreading across his face like someone who had just felt in his pocket and realized his wallet was gone. “Oy, for you, such a nice girl, you vouldn’t understand such things as vaht I look for.” He glanced around as if checking for witnesses. Then he added. “Anyvay. This is correct the vay I am using it?”

  “Sure,” Amanda tried to hide a smile. But failed. It was okay though, as Myron seemed to think the smile was that of a teacher to pupil who’d finally gotten a hard math problem. “But maybe if you give me a hint.”

  “Him? Him who?” Now Myron was really confused.

  “No, a hint. You know, like a clue. I mean is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

  “Ach. No you vouldn’t like vaht I vould be telling you. Anyvay.” He smiled again. A crooked little smile and tapped at the wall. He seemed to like using his new word.

  “Well, what are you listening for with all that tapping?” Now Amanda was determined to find out what this was all about.

  “Never mind, a nice girl like you. It shouldn’t be a burden to you like a sack of onions. Vehn I’m going to find it, then vill all your vorries fade avay like a sunset in the sky. Now I have to be doing more tapping to find the place I look for.”

  Amanda stood and watched him until it dawned on her and she almost shouted. “I know what you’re looking for. It’s like a space or something that’s hidden in this house, right?” She felt triumphant and danced down a few steps to stand next to him. “That’s why you wanted the plans. You think there’s a hidden room in here somewhere, don’t you? But what’s in the room? What do you know? Tell me, please.” She was completely distracted by the notion of finding something hidden in her own house. She had an urge to go and blog about it. But later. She was so close to squeezing this out of him that she continued. “You’re tapping for a hollow sound, right? Am I right?”