draperies, the chandeliers, the marble floor in the foyer, but you couldn’t relax there. Randall had felt like a kind of visiting diplomat in those gilt and rose rooms.
Anne had wanted that house as much as she ever wanted anything in her life, and so they bought it. Cool and elegant, it was a civilized environment that let nothing affect it. So in its way, it provided a contrast for Anne, a haven. You couldn’t imagine anyone being sick in those rooms, or crying out in the extremity of pain or fear or grief. The rooms smelled of flowers and perfume, not of antiseptic, gangrenous flesh, and death. The mutations of the weak and mortalbody were held at bay there, had no place there, in that stiff patrician edifice.
Years ago, when he met Anne, she was a nurse at Brigham & Women’s. He was just beginning his practice, and he came to admire and love her for the way she handled medical exigencies, remaining rational when others were screaming, her movements sure and deft and sober. Over the years of their marriage, Anne had decided she wanted to save not just lives but the world, or her portion of it, and she had the self-confidence, the necessary arrogance, and the skill to do just that.
He wished her well. But he was not the only person affected by the way Anne’s chilly self-control carried over into the most private parts of her life. Tessa was affected, too.
And as Randall walked through this old house that smelled of fruit and new-mown grass and hearth rugs still exuding the odor of dog, he thought that this very place might provide the perfect balance for his daughter’s life.
For the first time in a long time, he realized that he was happy. He was looking forward . It had something to do, he was certain, with the woman he’d met in the cemetery. She’d made him feel something he had forgotten still existed— hope .
After the brunch, Kelly dropped Donna at the Harvard Square T stop, zipped through the maze of streets to the parking lot behind her apartment, jumped out, locked her car, raced up to unlock the back entrance of the building, and went through to the foyer.
“Hey.” Jason stood by the elevator, Rollerblades slung over his shoulder. In his white shorts and red polo shirt he looked as healthy as a glass of milk. “Perfect timing.”
Perfect timing, she thought, what is that? When you meet at the time you said you would? That’s just expected . Perfect timings surely must be when two people meet accidentally, without forethought or planning. As she had met that man this morning.
Guilt made her peck a kiss onto Jason’s cheek.
The ornate bronze doors of the elevator slid open. They stepped inside. Jason pressed Kelly into a corner, resting his forehead on hers. He was very tan and smelled like sun and lemonade. “Sure you want to go out?”
“I’m sure.” The handrail bit into her back. She’d started this with her kiss, but he was making her feel trapped. She pushed him away. “Don’t, Jason.”
The elevator pinged. The doors slid open. Always the gentleman, Jason moved away to let Kelly exit first. She led him down the carpeted hallway, fit her key neatly into her door, and opened it. She could feel him right behind her, the heat of his body coming toward her.
He put his hand on her waist.
She moved away. “Give me just a minute to change.”
In her bedroom, she stripped off her dress and pearls. The third change of the day, she realized as she tugged on black-and-fuchsia spandex bike shorts and a sleeveless turquoise tee, and not the last one, either, for she and Jason were having dinner that night at his mother’s.
She came out of her bedroom to find Jason lounging on her sofa, remote control in his hand, rapidly switching channels. Unconsciously he tapped a foot on the floor—Jason was always moving. He was like a young stallion, charged with energy, impatient, eager, restless. Black Beauty, she thought, looking at his gleaming black hair.
When he saw her, he sprang to
Anne had wanted that house as much as she ever wanted anything in her life, and so they bought it. Cool and elegant, it was a civilized environment that let nothing affect it. So in its way, it provided a contrast for Anne, a haven. You couldn’t imagine anyone being sick in those rooms, or crying out in the extremity of pain or fear or grief. The rooms smelled of flowers and perfume, not of antiseptic, gangrenous flesh, and death. The mutations of the weak and mortalbody were held at bay there, had no place there, in that stiff patrician edifice.
Years ago, when he met Anne, she was a nurse at Brigham & Women’s. He was just beginning his practice, and he came to admire and love her for the way she handled medical exigencies, remaining rational when others were screaming, her movements sure and deft and sober. Over the years of their marriage, Anne had decided she wanted to save not just lives but the world, or her portion of it, and she had the self-confidence, the necessary arrogance, and the skill to do just that.
He wished her well. But he was not the only person affected by the way Anne’s chilly self-control carried over into the most private parts of her life. Tessa was affected, too.
And as Randall walked through this old house that smelled of fruit and new-mown grass and hearth rugs still exuding the odor of dog, he thought that this very place might provide the perfect balance for his daughter’s life.
For the first time in a long time, he realized that he was happy. He was looking forward . It had something to do, he was certain, with the woman he’d met in the cemetery. She’d made him feel something he had forgotten still existed— hope .
After the brunch, Kelly dropped Donna at the Harvard Square T stop, zipped through the maze of streets to the parking lot behind her apartment, jumped out, locked her car, raced up to unlock the back entrance of the building, and went through to the foyer.
“Hey.” Jason stood by the elevator, Rollerblades slung over his shoulder. In his white shorts and red polo shirt he looked as healthy as a glass of milk. “Perfect timing.”
Perfect timing, she thought, what is that? When you meet at the time you said you would? That’s just expected . Perfect timings surely must be when two people meet accidentally, without forethought or planning. As she had met that man this morning.
Guilt made her peck a kiss onto Jason’s cheek.
The ornate bronze doors of the elevator slid open. They stepped inside. Jason pressed Kelly into a corner, resting his forehead on hers. He was very tan and smelled like sun and lemonade. “Sure you want to go out?”
“I’m sure.” The handrail bit into her back. She’d started this with her kiss, but he was making her feel trapped. She pushed him away. “Don’t, Jason.”
The elevator pinged. The doors slid open. Always the gentleman, Jason moved away to let Kelly exit first. She led him down the carpeted hallway, fit her key neatly into her door, and opened it. She could feel him right behind her, the heat of his body coming toward her.
He put his hand on her waist.
She moved away. “Give me just a minute to change.”
In her bedroom, she stripped off her dress and pearls. The third change of the day, she realized as she tugged on black-and-fuchsia spandex bike shorts and a sleeveless turquoise tee, and not the last one, either, for she and Jason were having dinner that night at his mother’s.
She came out of her bedroom to find Jason lounging on her sofa, remote control in his hand, rapidly switching channels. Unconsciously he tapped a foot on the floor—Jason was always moving. He was like a young stallion, charged with energy, impatient, eager, restless. Black Beauty, she thought, looking at his gleaming black hair.
When he saw her, he sprang to
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