no.”
Janet laughed.
“That’s from The Count of Monte Cristo , honey. Your mother’s a bookworm. Just for the record.”
She sat up, letting the blankets and sheet fall across her lap. The bedroom door was open a few inches, but she heard no sounds
of activity from the rest of the house.
Meg had probably already left for work.
Janet swung the covers away and climbed off the bed. Naked and shivering, she hurried over to the chair where Meg had left
a robe for her to wear. A big, pink, quilted robe. She put it on. The fabric felt slick like satin. At first, if was cool
against her bare skin. Then it took on her body heat and felt fine.
In the kitchen, the coffee pot was still plugged in. She poured herself a cup, took it into the living room, and sat down
on the couch.
On today’s agenda was a return to Dave’s apartment for her belongings.
Not gonna be fun, she thought. But it has to be done.
Not just now.
On the coffee table in front of her was the Los Angeles Times. First, she read Peanuts .
Always good to start the morning with Snoopy.
Unfortunately, this morning’s strip was about Lucy and Linus. Snoopy made no appearance at all.
Janet began reading the rest of the paper. By the time she was finished with the first section, her cup was empty. She filled
it, returned to the couch, and started reading the second part.
An article near the bottom of the page was headed, STABBING DEATHS STUN CHICAGO SUBURB. She read the article. When she finished
it, she took another sip of coffee and read about a man who was killed when his car stalled on railroad tracks.
By the time she was done with Section Two, her cup was empty again. “Better get the show on the road,” she muttered.
Then she sat for a while and stared at the floor.
God, I don’t want to do this!
It was eleven o’clock by the time she stopped her Ford at the curb in front of the apartment house. On the radio, Jim Croce
was singing, “Time in a Bottle.” It almost made her want to cry. She listened until it ended, then turned off the engine and
the radio died.
For a few moments, she sat without moving.
She glanced at Dave’s space in the carport. Empty.
Okay, what am I waiting for?
She climbed out of her car.
In the building’s foyer, her eyes turned by habit toward the mail trough and the row of boxes. The mailman hadn’t arrived
yet. He was about due, though.
It all felt so familiar: hurrying up the stairs, walking along the dim hallway with the floor springy under foot, stopping
in front of apartment 230 while she fumbled for the key. Often, she had needed to set down bags of groceries while she unlocked
the door. But not today. No more of that.
She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it silently. Then she fit the guard chain into its slot.
“Is that in case I drop by?”
She flinched. Then she rested her forehead against the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“You’re supposed to be at work.”
“I took the day off.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Around the block.” He chuckled.
“You know what?” Janet said quietly. “It sounds like you set a trap for me.”
“Sure I did, but you baited it. I noticed how careful you were to tell me you’d be coming here this morning to pick up your
things. It was obvious you wanted me to be here.”
“Obvious to you, maybe. It didn’t enter my mind.”
“How’s the view?”
“Just fine,” she muttered, eyes on the door an inch away.
“I’ve always had a fancy for doorknobs, myself.”
“Very witty.”
His tone became serious as he said, “Do you realize, Janet, how foolishly you’ve been behaving?”
She heard him approach.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“A baby is an enormous responsibility. At this time, I don’t feel that I—that either of us—is emotionally equipped to meet that responsibility.” He put his hands on her shoulders. Janet stiffened under their
touch. “Do you understand
Janet laughed.
“That’s from The Count of Monte Cristo , honey. Your mother’s a bookworm. Just for the record.”
She sat up, letting the blankets and sheet fall across her lap. The bedroom door was open a few inches, but she heard no sounds
of activity from the rest of the house.
Meg had probably already left for work.
Janet swung the covers away and climbed off the bed. Naked and shivering, she hurried over to the chair where Meg had left
a robe for her to wear. A big, pink, quilted robe. She put it on. The fabric felt slick like satin. At first, if was cool
against her bare skin. Then it took on her body heat and felt fine.
In the kitchen, the coffee pot was still plugged in. She poured herself a cup, took it into the living room, and sat down
on the couch.
On today’s agenda was a return to Dave’s apartment for her belongings.
Not gonna be fun, she thought. But it has to be done.
Not just now.
On the coffee table in front of her was the Los Angeles Times. First, she read Peanuts .
Always good to start the morning with Snoopy.
Unfortunately, this morning’s strip was about Lucy and Linus. Snoopy made no appearance at all.
Janet began reading the rest of the paper. By the time she was finished with the first section, her cup was empty. She filled
it, returned to the couch, and started reading the second part.
An article near the bottom of the page was headed, STABBING DEATHS STUN CHICAGO SUBURB. She read the article. When she finished
it, she took another sip of coffee and read about a man who was killed when his car stalled on railroad tracks.
By the time she was done with Section Two, her cup was empty again. “Better get the show on the road,” she muttered.
Then she sat for a while and stared at the floor.
God, I don’t want to do this!
It was eleven o’clock by the time she stopped her Ford at the curb in front of the apartment house. On the radio, Jim Croce
was singing, “Time in a Bottle.” It almost made her want to cry. She listened until it ended, then turned off the engine and
the radio died.
For a few moments, she sat without moving.
She glanced at Dave’s space in the carport. Empty.
Okay, what am I waiting for?
She climbed out of her car.
In the building’s foyer, her eyes turned by habit toward the mail trough and the row of boxes. The mailman hadn’t arrived
yet. He was about due, though.
It all felt so familiar: hurrying up the stairs, walking along the dim hallway with the floor springy under foot, stopping
in front of apartment 230 while she fumbled for the key. Often, she had needed to set down bags of groceries while she unlocked
the door. But not today. No more of that.
She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it silently. Then she fit the guard chain into its slot.
“Is that in case I drop by?”
She flinched. Then she rested her forehead against the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“You’re supposed to be at work.”
“I took the day off.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Around the block.” He chuckled.
“You know what?” Janet said quietly. “It sounds like you set a trap for me.”
“Sure I did, but you baited it. I noticed how careful you were to tell me you’d be coming here this morning to pick up your
things. It was obvious you wanted me to be here.”
“Obvious to you, maybe. It didn’t enter my mind.”
“How’s the view?”
“Just fine,” she muttered, eyes on the door an inch away.
“I’ve always had a fancy for doorknobs, myself.”
“Very witty.”
His tone became serious as he said, “Do you realize, Janet, how foolishly you’ve been behaving?”
She heard him approach.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“A baby is an enormous responsibility. At this time, I don’t feel that I—that either of us—is emotionally equipped to meet that responsibility.” He put his hands on her shoulders. Janet stiffened under their
touch. “Do you understand
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