Romantic Road

by Blair McDowell

  They became lovers on their second date, and six weeks later they were married.

  ****

  Lacy’s mind returned to the present. She brushed her hand over his jacket and, sighing, closed the closet door. Perhaps Jane could help her pack up his usable clothing and take it to the Goodwill or Sally Ann. It might help some less fortunate men get through New York’s harsh winter.

  She glanced at her watch. It was noon. She’d see if Jane was free, and they could make plans. She took out her phone and called.

  “Can you meet me for lunch?”

  “Sure. I’m not working today. The Russian Tea Room?”

  Lacy thought about the many times the four of them had lunched there in the happy early years of her marriage, at that renowned New York institution dedicated to old Russia. It would be difficult to be there without Igor.

  “No. I’ve heard about a new deli over on Fourth. Leo’s?”

  “Fine. Leo’s it is. See you there.”

  An hour later the two women were seated over thick pumpernickel sandwiches stuffed with hot corned beef, dill pickles on the side.

  “It would take me a week to eat all of this.” Lacy stared at the plate before her in consternation.

  Her friend gave her an appraisingly look. “Do you know how much weight you’ve lost in the last two years?”

  “I don’t know. Some, I guess.”

  “A lot. We used to be the same size. Remember how we used to borrow each other’s clothes before your marriage? You couldn’t wear mine now. They’d fall off you.”

  Lacy looked at her friend. It was true. Both tall, slender, blue-eyed blondes, they were the same height, with very similar tastes, and they’d traded wardrobes freely when they were living together and both working at the U.N. She looked down at herself. Her drab brown suit hung on her like a bag. Somewhere along the way she’d lost interest in what she looked like. How had that happened?

  “I have a hairdresser’s appointment after lunch,” Jane said. “Why don’t you take it instead? I’ll come with you. Then we’ll go shopping for some clothes that fit you better.”

  Why not? If she was thinking of returning to work she couldn’t do so looking like this. “Thanks, Jane. I think I’d like that.”

  ****

  At five o’clock, two weary women with their arms full of boxes and bags arrived back at Lacy’s apartment.

  Dumping her cache on the bed, Jane said, “Have to run, darling. I have a date tonight.”

  “A date? Oh, my God, Richard’s coming for me at seven. I’d completely forgotten.”

  “Aha! He’s already making his move. I wondered how long it would take him.” Jane laughed.

  “What are you talking about? It’s just Richard. He feels sorry for me.”

  “Sure.” Jane smiled. “Are you serious? Don’t you know he’s in love with you? I’m sure Igor was aware of it. I think it gave him some sort of perverse pleasure to watch Richard watching you.”

  “You’re imagining things, Jane. I’m sure Richard has never looked on me as anything more than a friend. He’s been very helpful since Igor’s death.”

  Jane arched her eyebrow. “I’ll bet he has. Let me know what happens tonight. Tell all.”

  Lacy laughed. “You have a vivid imagination. I have dinner with Richard at least once a week. There’ll be nothing to tell. Now go home and get ready for your date and let me shower and dress.”

  “Wear the blue.”

  “What?”

  “Wear the blue cashmere we bought at Bergdorf’s. It’s casual enough, and it does wonders for your eyes.”

  “Go home, Jane.”

  “Okay. But think about what I said. I’ll come help you with sorting out Igor’s room next Saturday.”

  ****

  Later, looking in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, Lacy was shocked at the difference in her appearance. Her formerly stringy, listless hair was a shiny blond curtain, falling straight and silky to her shoulders. Her skin glowed and the blue of the dress picked up the color of her eyes and did wonders for her slender figure. When had she begun to let herself go? When had she first decided it didn’t matter what she looked like?

  She knew the answer. When Igor ceased caring. She’d tried desperately for the first year after his heart attack. But then she acknowledged defeat. She’d just given up.

  She took a deep breath and went into the living room as the doorman rang through to say Richard was in the lobby waiting for her.

  It was just Richard, an old friend, but in a sense this evening was a rehearsal for the rest of her life. She had to stop looking back. She was a widow now. To all intents and purposes she had been alone for more than two years before the death of her husband. She’d loved Igor with all her heart. But he was gone, and it was time to start living again.

  She took her raincoat out of the hall closet and, squaring her shoulders, went to the elevator.

  Richard had made reservations at La Grenouille. Lacy knew of the famous French restaurant, but she’d never been there. She looked around as they were led to their table. It was a charming place, beautifully decorated, yet unpretentious.

  Lacy inhaled the irresistibly tempting aroma, as the boeuf à la Bourguignonne arrived at their table. She found herself finishing everything on her plate and then ordering dessert. Over dinner Richard kept her amused with gossip about the lives of the rich and famous in New York society, some of them his clients. Neither of them spoke of Igor.

  When they left the restaurant, Richard said, “Shall we walk for a bit?” He took her arm, and they strolled along Fifth Avenue.

  The sidewalks were full of life. Other couples, young and old. Men hurrying, to where? Groups of giggling girls. Families with children in tow. It was the life of a vibrant city. When had she stopped seeing New York, being a part of it? Lacy felt in some way she was waking from a dream. Her world in so many ways had been reduced to the four walls of their apartment after Igor’s first heart attack. Her steps slowed.

  Richard, seeing her halting steps, hailed a passing cab and gave the driver her address.

  “Would you like to come up for a brandy?” she offered when they arrived.

  “Of course, if you’re not too tired.”

  In the apartment, Lacy poured two snifters from the bottle of Courvoisier, and handed one to Richard.

  He took a sip, then putting his glass down, he placed his hands on Lacy’s shoulders and pulled her gently toward him. His kiss was soft and tentative.

  Lacy stood very still trying to decipher how she felt.

  She felt…nothing.

  “I can’t, Richard. I’m not ready for this.”

  “Lacy, we both know your marriage was over a long time before Igor’s death. You’re a young woman. Don’t bottle up your emotions because you think you have to grieve. You’ve been grieving for way too long. It’s time to start living again.”

  He brought his mouth down to hers again, more insistent this time.

  Lacy willed herself to relax into the kiss, but she couldn’t. She felt detached, as if she were an observer, not a participant.

  “No, Richard.” She pushed herself away from him and went to look out the window. With her back to him she said, “I’m simply not able to do this yet.”

  She heard his sigh and turned to face him. “I’m sorry, Richard.”

  He shrugged. “You know I’ve been in love with you since the day Igor introduced us. Your wedding day, as it happened. I’ve waited a long time for you. I guess I can wait a while longer.”

  “I didn’t know.” Lacy’s voice was soft with regret.

  “Igor knew. I think he found it amusing to throw us together and watch me suffer.”

  “Igor wasn’t like that.”

  “Wasn’t he?” Richard moved to the door. “Good night, my dear. And remember what I said. Life is for the living.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Lacy sat down on the sofa, trembling.

  Why hadn’t she let him
make love to her? What harm could have come from it? She longed for a man’s touch, for the feeling of belonging that came with love making. For the passion of a man’s embrace, enclosing her, filling her…

  She rose and shook off her thoughts.

  ****

  In the morning she called Jane.

  Her friend picked up immediately. “How was the date with Richard?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just an old friend.”

  “Of course he is.” Jane laughed. “But I’ll bet he’d like to be more.”

  Lacy ignored the comment. It was too close to the mark for comfort. “Will you be coming over on Saturday? I’d like to take care of packing up Igor’s clothing.”

  “Of course. I told you I’d help. I’ll be there at ten.”

  ****

  On Saturday morning Lacy was awakened by the insistent ringing of the telephone.

  “Lacy Telchev?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Smithers from the simultaneous translation office at the U.N. We’ve had a cancellation this morning. You’re fluent in Russian, I believe? Could you report in immediately? I’m not sure exactly when we’ll need you, but you should plan to be available until noon.”

  “But I haven’t even done the necessary paper work…”

  “I’m aware of that, but this is in the nature of an emergency. Can you help us out?”

  “Of course. I can be there in half an hour.”

  “Excellent. Report to office number 1007. Just wait there. You’ll be summoned when we need you.”

  Lacy put the phone down and stared at it. It was an unusual request. But she couldn’t afford to alienate anyone at the U.N. if she wanted her old job back.

  She was hailing a cab when she remembered Jane was to come over and help sort through Igor’s room with her. Pulling out her phone she tried calling. No response. She sent a text. “Delay. Come at 12:30. L.”

  Arriving at the U.N. building she checked in at the front desk and then reported to the office where she’d been instructed to wait.

  There was a disinterested secretary behind the desk who seemed to know nothing about what was happening. Following the instructions of the man who had called her, Lacy sat in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. It seemed very irregular, but she supposed it would become clearer once they sent for her. Meanwhile she could read. She opened her Kindle and started the latest Donna Leon mystery.

  By eleven-thirty she began to worry. Why hadn’t they come for her? Smithers had said to be prepared to stay until twelve. It was almost that now. She tried to reach Jane again. No answer. She asked the secretary to try to reach Mr. Smithers.

  Reluctantly the woman turned to her computer. “I’m sorry. Which office did you say he was in?”

  “I don’t know. I was just told to wait here until they sent for me.”

  “I don’t see any Smithers listed in the general directory. Are you sure you have the name right?”

  Was she sure? Not really. She’d been half asleep when the call came. She’d give Smithers, or whatever his name was, another half hour but then she was leaving. It was ridiculous to be left hanging this way.

  She tried to reach Jane again. No answer. That was odd.

  At twelve-thirty, Lacy finally gave up. They must have found they didn’t need her services after all. But why hadn’t they let her know? Their treatment of her was discourteous to say the least.

  She was able to get a taxi quickly and twenty minutes later was back at her address. The doorman greeted her, saying, “Your friend arrived a couple of hours ago. She had a key, so I let her go up. I hope that was all right?”

  “Of course, John. Thank you. She must have missed my message.”

  As the elevator doors parted on the eleventh floor, Lacy heard Sica’s unmistakable yowl. Her cat was in the hallway.

  “What are you doing out here? How’d you get out?” Then Lacy saw the door to her apartment ajar. She frowned. Why would Jane have left the door open?

  “Jane?” The silence was eerie. Scooping up the cat, Lacy tried to push the door fully open. Something was blocking it. She shoved with her shoulder and stepped in.

  Jane lay crumpled on the floor. She was still and white and blood seeped from a wound in her head. A heavy lamp lay smashed a few feet from her. Lacy knelt beside her and touched her face, then felt for a pulse. It was reedy, but Jane was alive.

  A shiver ran down her spine as Lacy looked fearfully down the hallway. Was the assailant still in the apartment? Her heart started pounding, and her hands were suddenly clammy.

  She backed out of the door, the cat still tightly clutched in her arms and ran to the elevator. Looking over her shoulder at the doorway, she pounded on the elevator button. When the lift came and the doors closed her safely in, she leaned against the wall, trying to slow her panicked breathing..

  In the lobby, Lacy nearly fell into the doorman’s arms. “John, there’s been a terrible accident. Call for an ambulance and...” Lacy hesitated for a moment. “...and call the police. Please tell them to hurry.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Telchev.”

  John was on the line before Lacy finished speaking, giving the address and stressing it was an emergency.

  “Can you come up with me?” Lacy asked. “I’m afraid someone might still be there.”

  “Certainly.” The doorman followed Lacy into the elevator, and a moment later she was kneeling beside her friend again, holding her hand.

  “Do you think we could at least cover her? She feels so cold. Could you get a blanket off my bed?”

  John disappeared and returned a moment later with a soft wool throw and placed it gently over Jane. Lacy continued to kneel beside her, clutching her hand trying to transmit her warmth and life into her friend, lying there so still, so remote.

  “Have you seen the rest of your apartment?” The doorman looked at Lacy and spoke hesitantly.

  “No. When I saw Jane…”

  “Mrs. Telchev, I hate to tell you this, but someone has torn your apartment apart. It’s been completely ransacked.”

  “What?” Lacy looked at him, not comprehending what he said.

  “Everything. Your apartment’s been torn apart. Books out of bookcases, drawers upended, upholstery and mattresses slashed.”

  Lacy shivered. Her world seemed to be crumbling. She fought down a wave of nausea.

  She focused on Jane, so still and white, lying there. That was what mattered. Getting help for Jane. When she could still her shaking hands sufficiently, she took out her phone. Richard. He would know what to do about this.

  His voice was reassuring. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

  A few minutes later, the paramedics arrived, a man and a woman.

  “How’d it happen?” the man asked.

  “I don’t know. I just found her like this. The police are on their way.” Lacy’s stomach churned and she felt faintly dizzy. It was all her fault. She should never have left Jane here alone. Why hadn’t she realized something was wrong when Jane didn’t answer her phone? How could she bear it if Jane…

  “Is she going to be all right?” Lacy’s voice shook with apprehension.

  “Looks like she’s had a pretty severe trauma to the head,” the man replied. “We’re going to get her to the hospital.”

  They examined Jane for her vital signs. Then they stabilized her head, placing a neck brace on her.

  “What’s that for?” Lacy asked, taking a deep breath to calm shattered nerves.

  “We just want to make sure her head and spine are in a stable position before we move her,” the young woman answered.

  They carefully slipped a back board under Jane. “In case of spinal injury,” the woman said, glancing at Lacy’s worried expression. Only then did they move Jane onto a stretcher. Lacy stood to go with them. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the young woman said firmly. “You’ll have to follow. No room in the ambulance.”

  “Mrs. Telchev,” the doorman said, �
��I think you’d better remain here for the moment. The police are on their way, and they’ll want to speak to you. She’s in good hands now.”

  Richard arrived just as the paramedics were taking Jane away. He and John murmured a few words in the hallway, and then John took the elevator back down to his usual post in the lobby of the building.

  Lacy threw herself into Richard’s arms. He held her close for a moment, murmuring into her hair, “She’ll be all right, Lacy.”

  His calm manner helped Lacy stem her rising hysteria. She clung to him. “She shouldn’t have been here. She was just here to help me sort through Igor’s clothing. Why’d they have to hurt her?”

  “They who, Lacy? Who are you talking about?”

  “Those men who stopped me on the road, when I was coming from the Berkshires. I don’t know who they were. But I told you they wanted Igor’s manuscript. What else could this be about? I’m sure they hurt Jane when she walked in on them.”

  “Good God, Lacy, don’t say that to the police. The State Police told me those men were federal agents. It’s a good thing I got here before they questioned you. Don’t volunteer anything. Certainly not unsubstantiated theories as to why Jane was injured. I’m speaking as your attorney, Lacy. Just answer their questions as to what you know.”

  Lacy buried her face on Richard’s shoulder, tears flowing. “She’s my best friend, Richard, and I’m responsible for what happened.”

  “Nonsense! This wasn’t your fault. Come, let’s sit in the living room where we’ll be more comfortable until the police arrive.”

  As they moved out of the narrow entrance hall into the apartment, Lacy gasped. John had said “ransacked,” but the damage before her was unbelievable.

  “What the hell?” Richard stood immobile with shock.

  The police arrived at that moment. There were two of them—a plainclothes detective and an officer in uniform.

  “Mrs. Telchev?”

  “Yes, I’m Lacy Telchev, and this is my friend and attorney, Richard Delancy.”

  “Your attorney?” The detective’s tone was sharp.

  “Mrs. Telchev has just recently lost her husband,” Richard answered the challenge. “She’s in an extremely vulnerable state. I’ve been both her attorney and her friend for the last five years. She called me because she was frightened, in shock, and didn’t know what to do.”