into her chair. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“What do you mean you’re on your way to Seattle?”
“We decided to sublet the apartment. We’ve packed a few essentials and we’ll get what we need when we find a place to live.”
“Can you stop here first? I want to see you and Pete.”
“No, honey, we’re already in Pittsburgh.”
“Damn it. You said we’d get together.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Helen.”
Their abrupt departure disturbed her, but she couldn’t stop them from leaving. At least they weren’t dying and would be a phone call away. Without asking, she knew he’d be back in town for an occasional function. If they were happy, she was happy, too.
“I’ll miss you, Tucson. Call me, okay?”
“You know I will.”
“Oh, wait. Do you remember the woman that slammed into me and ruined my scarf?”
“Yes.”
“We had a date last night, and I’ll see her this afternoon.” Telling him felt right and she felt good saying the words. She had taken a new beginning.
“That’s wonderful news. We’re about to enter the tunnels, so I have to go. We love—” Their connection was cut off.
Helen washed her breakfast mug and dressed for her second get-together with Cory.
*
“That’s the Dakota.” The cabby handed the paper back to Helen and then pulled into traffic. “Have you there in no time.”
Helen looked back to the handwriting. “The Dakota,” she said quietly.
The residence wasn’t merely another apartment building in just another neighborhood. For Helen, mention of the Dakota conjured up flashes of Central Park West, John and Yoko, Lillian Gish, and Rudolf Nureyev, to name a few. A gnat’s eyelash away, in the San Remo, lived Mia Farrow, but gone were the days of Woody Allen. Money and fame had resided on Central Park West, along with history and headlines.
*
Cory greeted her at the door and whisked her into the kitchen. Helen looked around the large room. An ensemble of copper-clad pots and pans hung from the ceiling, crowning a butcher block and sink. Each cabinet door was clear glass and every item was orderly. And tile! White tile from floor to ceiling gave the room a sterile feel.
“I apologize for being abrupt. I have to get this off the heat.” Cory scurried to the stove, lifted a kettle, and poured its creamy white, rich soup into a serving dish. She covered it and turned to Helen. She let out a quick breath. “I’m glad you’re here. Hungry?”
The tang of sour cream hit her nostrils and Helen nodded quickly. “Yes. You cook? That’s something I have no talent for.”
Cory’s sweat suit lent sensuousness to her swagger as she walked toward Helen. She laced their fingers together. “Where does your talent lay, Ms. Townsend?” Cory teased and kissed her cheek.
“All dormant,” she said and matched the kiss.
On cue, her hyperactive mind kicked in and discharged a volley of electrical impulses through her brain.
What’s dormant? The kiss? The bath? Remember the bath, Helen? Those eyes that penetrated your thoughts and hurled you into the most exquisite—?
Enough. The room suddenly became too warm for Helen. She cleared her throat with that same pathetic sound she’d made during the ambush. She backed away.
It was then that she noticed an alcove and dining table. That niche wasn’t as medicinal, with its walls stripped of tile. Instead, small pears and peaches were clustered on wallpaper with a golden-yellow background. The space felt cozy, and Helen envisioned a comfortable breakfast there.
The small table was perfectly set with crystal and silver. In the center, a small assortment of fresh fall mums burst with colors of red, orange, and yellow, their colors embellished by streaming sunlight.
“Is all of this for me?” she asked.
“All for you.” Cory looked toward the table and back at Helen. Her bangs had loosened and she looked adorably impish. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful.”
Over soup and salad, they
“What do you mean you’re on your way to Seattle?”
“We decided to sublet the apartment. We’ve packed a few essentials and we’ll get what we need when we find a place to live.”
“Can you stop here first? I want to see you and Pete.”
“No, honey, we’re already in Pittsburgh.”
“Damn it. You said we’d get together.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Helen.”
Their abrupt departure disturbed her, but she couldn’t stop them from leaving. At least they weren’t dying and would be a phone call away. Without asking, she knew he’d be back in town for an occasional function. If they were happy, she was happy, too.
“I’ll miss you, Tucson. Call me, okay?”
“You know I will.”
“Oh, wait. Do you remember the woman that slammed into me and ruined my scarf?”
“Yes.”
“We had a date last night, and I’ll see her this afternoon.” Telling him felt right and she felt good saying the words. She had taken a new beginning.
“That’s wonderful news. We’re about to enter the tunnels, so I have to go. We love—” Their connection was cut off.
Helen washed her breakfast mug and dressed for her second get-together with Cory.
*
“That’s the Dakota.” The cabby handed the paper back to Helen and then pulled into traffic. “Have you there in no time.”
Helen looked back to the handwriting. “The Dakota,” she said quietly.
The residence wasn’t merely another apartment building in just another neighborhood. For Helen, mention of the Dakota conjured up flashes of Central Park West, John and Yoko, Lillian Gish, and Rudolf Nureyev, to name a few. A gnat’s eyelash away, in the San Remo, lived Mia Farrow, but gone were the days of Woody Allen. Money and fame had resided on Central Park West, along with history and headlines.
*
Cory greeted her at the door and whisked her into the kitchen. Helen looked around the large room. An ensemble of copper-clad pots and pans hung from the ceiling, crowning a butcher block and sink. Each cabinet door was clear glass and every item was orderly. And tile! White tile from floor to ceiling gave the room a sterile feel.
“I apologize for being abrupt. I have to get this off the heat.” Cory scurried to the stove, lifted a kettle, and poured its creamy white, rich soup into a serving dish. She covered it and turned to Helen. She let out a quick breath. “I’m glad you’re here. Hungry?”
The tang of sour cream hit her nostrils and Helen nodded quickly. “Yes. You cook? That’s something I have no talent for.”
Cory’s sweat suit lent sensuousness to her swagger as she walked toward Helen. She laced their fingers together. “Where does your talent lay, Ms. Townsend?” Cory teased and kissed her cheek.
“All dormant,” she said and matched the kiss.
On cue, her hyperactive mind kicked in and discharged a volley of electrical impulses through her brain.
What’s dormant? The kiss? The bath? Remember the bath, Helen? Those eyes that penetrated your thoughts and hurled you into the most exquisite—?
Enough. The room suddenly became too warm for Helen. She cleared her throat with that same pathetic sound she’d made during the ambush. She backed away.
It was then that she noticed an alcove and dining table. That niche wasn’t as medicinal, with its walls stripped of tile. Instead, small pears and peaches were clustered on wallpaper with a golden-yellow background. The space felt cozy, and Helen envisioned a comfortable breakfast there.
The small table was perfectly set with crystal and silver. In the center, a small assortment of fresh fall mums burst with colors of red, orange, and yellow, their colors embellished by streaming sunlight.
“Is all of this for me?” she asked.
“All for you.” Cory looked toward the table and back at Helen. Her bangs had loosened and she looked adorably impish. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful.”
Over soup and salad, they
Similar Books
