A Note From an Old Acquaintance (16 page)

“Absolutely.”

Brian looked out the window and realized they were now on Beacon Street, just passing Clarendon. He’d be home soon.

“Are you sure your fiancé isn’t going to want to put his stamp on this?”

Joanna shook her head. “No, he’ll just write the checks.”

A moment later, they pulled up in front of his apartment building. She turned to him and took his face in her hands and kissed him. “What time do you get off work?” she asked.

“It depends, sometimes not until late. The next couple of days are pretty hectic.”

“Then why don’t you call me on Thursday and let me know when you’re leaving, and I’ll bring the mailer and meet you here.”

“Or you could just meet me at the office.”

“Business wasn’t the only thing I had in mind,” she said, kissing him again.

“Ah, well, I guess I win the Doofus Award for that one, don’t I?”

She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll more than redeem yourself.” She glanced at the clock, her mood shifting. “Damn, I need to go.”

She gave him a quick peck on the tip of his nose and Brian took that as his cue. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he said.

As he had before, he watched her drive off before going inside.

After grabbing his mail, he checked his messages. There were a total of five, one from his mother. He replayed it twice, frowning.

“Hi, dear, sorry you’re not home. Your father had a very interesting day at work. Call us when you get in, if it’s not too late. Bye, Sweetie.”

He glanced at his watch. It was just after 9:00. Not too late. He dialed their number, which was picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, Brian, are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just getting senile.”

Brian laughed. “You? Never. I just got your message. What happened with Dad?”

“I’ll let him tell you, it’s all a bit confusing to me.”

The phone clunked when she put it down and Brian could imagine it resting on the flecked Formica counter in the kitchen. Through the phone, he could hear his mother yelling up the stairs for his father. A second later, the phone clicked when the extension was picked up.

“How you doing, Slugger?”

Brian grinned. It was the same greeting his father always used, ever since his little league days. Somehow, coming from the old man, it always sounded right. “I’m fine, Dad. Mom tells me you had an interesting day.”

“You could say that,” he said, turning serious. “Had some visitors over this past week from an investment group out of Columbus. They’re looking to redevelop the entire downtown area, here, since we’re pretty much a bedroom community. Pretty impressive plans, too. Got a lot of money behind them. They’re interested in buying the store.”

“Really?”

“They’re talkin’ about maybe two million for it. Lock, stock and barrel.”

“Jesus, Dad—”

“Didn’t think the old place was worth that much, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, aside from the land and the building, there’s forty years of goodwill there. Your mother never wanted me to buy the place, thought renting was safer. Looks like an I-told-you-so’s in order.”

Brian laughed. “So what did you tell them?”

The older man chuckled. “Told them I’d give it ‘due consideration.’”

“But sell the store? That place is your life.”

“No, Brian. You and your mother are my life. Besides, it’s not as if you’re coming home to take over for me....”

This was a sore point between him and his father. While he loved playing in the aisles of Weller’s Hardware as a child, had helped out after school when he grew older, and still relished the smell of fertilizer and machine oil, he could never buy into his father’s dream.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’ve got to follow your dreams, not mine. And I’m proud of you. You and your partner have done well for yourselves. And someday, if you’re still writing, that’ll come true, too.”

A strange mixture of emotions arose in Brian: happiness that his father recognized and appreciated his ambitions and accomplishments, and sadness that the old man’s dreams were dying.

“That means a lot to me.”

“I know....”

“So, if you sell, what are you and Mom going to do?”

“Florida. Gettin’ tired of shoveling the front walk every winter.”

Brian smiled at the memory, and at the thought of his father in Bermuda shorts.

“Somehow, I can’t picture you sitting on the beach with a Mai Tai.”

“Nope, I’ll just stick one of those fancy little umbrellas in my Michelob.”

The older man laughed and Brian joined in.

“So, you going with anybody?” the older man asked.

“Mom put you up to that?”

His father laughed again. “So what else is new?”

“Actually, I’ve met someone pretty special, but I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

“Afraid of jinxing it, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“You forget I used to be young once, too. What’s her name?”

“Joanna.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Means ‘Gift from God’.”

“You surprise me, Dad,” Brian said, grinning.

“I shouldn’t. Who always won all those Trivial Pursuit games? Is she nice?”

Brian described her and how they met, and the older man’s mood changed. “You be careful, Son. I won’t tell you not to do what you’re doing, because Lord knows I sowed a few wild oats in my own time, but you never know what a man will do when it comes to his woman.”

“I love her, Dad. Never thought I’d hear myself say that after Julie, but it’s there, it’s real and I think she feels the same way.”

“I’m happy for you, Brian. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m not going to tell your mother about this, she’ll have a cow, but anytime you want to talk, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Dad, I love you.”

“Love you, too. Take care of yourself. And get yourself down here one of these days, we miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

They hung up a few minutes later and Brian realized that he should have asked his dad more about the people interested in the store. He’d gotten caught up in talking about Joanna. He’d try and call him in a day, or so.

Let’s hope you didn’t jinx this one, after all, Weller.

He shook his head, laughing to himself. It was a silly superstition, and one with which his father had also been intimately familiar. What was the old saying? Nothing new under the sun? It was all too true.

Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, he checked his schedule and saw that he had an 8:00
AM
edit session. He decided to turn in early and save the writing for tomorrow. The problem was, he couldn’t get Joanna out of his mind. Lying in his bed later, he kept replaying the evening over and over in his mind, savoring every moment.

He was in big, big trouble...and he wouldn’t trade places with a living soul.

15

JOANNA
WATCHED
HER
FIANCÉ
stare at the two words carved into the side of her car and saw the blood rising in his cheeks.

RICH BICH!

In the stark fluorescent lighting inside their three-car garage, those childish letters seemed to glow with malicious glee. She’d fretted all the way home, wondering how Erik would take the news, and the sight of those awful words. Sometimes he could be so cool, the anger simmering under the surface for hours, before dissipating. At other times, especially when a deal turned sour, he would explode with rage, cursing God in his Heaven and the incompetency of fools. Fortunately, that anger was never directed at her, not like that, but it always disturbed her when he showed this side of himself.

Ruby’s lips curled in contempt. “Those little low-life cretins couldn’t even spell the word correctly.” He turned his dark eyes to her. “So tell me again; what happened? Did you see anyone near the car?”

She sighed. “No, I didn’t. When I left the studio, the words were already there. They could’ve been there for hours. I’m sorry.”

Ruby sneered. “Not as sorry as I am.”

“What do you mean?” she said, not liking the sound of that at all.

“Because it’s my own damned fault,” he snapped. He shook his head, his brow creased in annoyance. “And why is it, Joanna, when you have such a beautiful home, a home the majority of women would kill to live in, you feel the need to escape from it to that...” he waved his hand in a dismissive flick. “...bohemian retreat of yours? I’m beginning to think you’d rather be there than here with me.”

The petulant tone in his voice angered Joanna, killing the stab of guilt his words engendered. “That’s not true, and you know it. And I hardly see you when you’re working on one of your deals.”

“That’s different.”

“Really? How is it different?”

“That’s what pays for all of this.”

“So my work has no value?”

“Of course it does, but that’s not the point. Your safety is. It was a mistake to put your studio in such an isolated place. That much is crystal clear. I should have sold that building a long time ago. Now it’s time. You belong here with me...where you’ll be safe.”

“I’m not a china doll, Erik.”

Her fiancé stared back at her with an implacable gaze, his mind made up. Joanna did her best to remain calm, but in spite of her outward tranquility, panic raced through her. She’d grown to love that funky space with its creaky old elevator and the freedom and independence it offered. It freed her creative spirit, too, allowing her ideas to flow without stricture or boundary. Even her meditations were deeper and more calming there. And then there was Brian and the love they’d shared only that evening. It was more than a sanctuary now.

“Please, don’t,” she said, hating the pleading tone in her voice. “I need that studio. Just as much as you need your office.”

“Joanna, those punks could easily have waited around for you to leave. Did you even stop to think about that? What’s more important, your art or your life?”

“They’re
both
important...to me. And it’s not as if anyone’s stalking me. It’s just some silly vandalism.”

“Yes, of course, but surely you see my point, don’t you?”

“Where will I do my work? There’s no room at the school, and all your other properties are full.”

Ruby’s expression turned thoughtful. “There’s enough room on the land, here. We’ll build a new wing onto the house and put your studio in there. It’ll be your space, just like Melcher Street.”

“But that will take months. I can’t just stop working!”

“Can we go into the house, now? It’s cold out here.”

Ruby turned and strode into the kitchen. Joanna followed, her heels clacking on the granite tile. She caught up with him in his study. “And what about my show, Erik? If I close my studio, I’ll have no way to complete the pieces I need for it.”

Ruby sat at his desk, and regarded her with a quizzical look. “What about it? You don’t want my help—you said as much. Seems to me there
is
no show.”

Joanna’s jaw set. “What I said is that I didn’t want you greasing some gallery owner’s palms to
buy
me a show. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have one at my studio.”

Ruby opened his mouth as if to offer a rebuke, his expression turning to one of amazement. “That’s a very good idea....”

Joanna went to him and sat in his lap, encircling his neck with her arms. “So I actually do have a brain in my pretty little head?” she asked, batting her eyelids.

“One that’s more than a match for mine,” Ruby said, laughing. “But I’m still worried about you.”

“Well, can’t you just hire a security guard to watch over me?”

Ruby shook his head, his smile widening. “I can see you’re going to have an answer for everything this evening, aren’t you?”

“Hmmm, maybe.” Joanna grinned.

“All right, I’ll hold off on selling the building until after your show, and I’ll look into hiring a guard.”

“Promise?”

Ruby crossed his heart and held up his hand. “Promise.”

Joanna kissed him on the nose, slipped off his lap, and headed for the door.

“Should I tell Nick to go ahead with the mailer?” he asked.

Joanna paused at the door, fighting a war inside her heart. She’d hated playing the manipulative little female, as she’d done just now. It was so against everything she believed. But she’d known it would work—and it had. And maybe that’s why it felt so...sordid. On the other hand, her art and her ability to create it had been at stake, so perhaps this small misstep had been for the greater good. What about Brian...?

“Honey?” Ruby asked, breaking into her thoughts. “What about Nick?”

She sighed inwardly and decided to take the gamble. “I’ve asked Nick’s friend, Brian Weller, to help me rewrite the mailer. He can work on it with Nick.”

“Why him?”

“He’s a writer,” she said, her voice growing soft. “And he understands....”

She turned and left the room; and never saw the smile slip from her fiancé’s face.