by Webb, Peggy
“Watch your step, dear.” Aunt Syl said. “One of these days one of us is going to have to get organized.”
They both blanched at the word. Organization was as remote to them as Outer Mongolia.
“Maybe next year,” Amy said. “Right now all I want to do is work awhile.” She was still sitting in the laundry basket. Somehow it seemed appropriate. This whole business with Todd had started with the laundry: it might as well end with it too.
“Well, don’t forget to eat, dear. I think there’s a bit of lettuce in the refrigerator. It’s a mite wilted around the edges, but it’ll do for a salad. I’m off for a rendezvous with Clark Gable.”
Amy smiled. Anyone who didn’t know Sylvia Street would have thought her senile. “An old movie on TV?”
“A movie I rented for the VCR. My, my, that man can set the old juices flowing.” She started toward her room, then turned for one last word. “But having spent the afternoon with the sexy judge, I’m sure you know all about that, don’t you, dear?”
Amy scrunched down in the laundry and pretended she hadn’t heard. She glared at the bird, who chose to waddle after her owner rather than fly.
“Don’t you say a word,” Amy warned.
Hortense stared back at Amy and squawked, “Love!”
Amy supposed the old bird wouldn’t have bothered her if she hadn’t been so uncannily accurate. What she was feeling right now was so close to love, it scared her to death. Love wasn’t supposed to happen in Sunday Cove. Love had died in Tupelo. The granite marker was evidence.
Amy plucked her black bikini panties from the laundry basket and tried to recall times she had used such frivolous underwear to seduce her husband. The past was dim. All she could call to mind was the way Todd had looked with the wind at his back.
“This is absurd,” she said. “I just won’t think about it right now.” Then, feeling rather foolish, she got up from the laundry basket and went to the kitchen to fix a wilted salad.
o0o
The next day Amy was still making a valiant effort not to think about Todd. As long as she was working on her invention, she managed nicely to put him from her mind. But when she ran into a hitch with the popcorn popper and had to stop work, she could think of nothing else. She felt limp and flushed and curiously happy. Although Sunday Cove was again hot enough to bake bread on the sidewalk, Amy knew the heat wasn’t responsible for her condition.
She glanced at her husband’s paintings and, for the first time, she saw them objectively. They were good in a subdued sort of way, but they lacked a certain depth and vitality. They were tranquil, but somehow lifeless.
“I will not do this,” she said fiercely. She searched for her sandals among the clutter. One was under a plastic dome and the other was in her toolbox. Quickly she put them on. “I’m taking Herman for a walk, Aunt Syl,” she called.
The rackety Remington stopped and Aunt Syl poked her head out the door. “Pick up some food on your way back, unless you want to eat birdseed. I’m going to the outdoor concert tonight.” She started to pull her head back in, then changed her mind. “Why are you taking Herman out, anyway?”
“He needs a workout so I can be sure he’s functioning properly since the laundry room fiasco.”
“That’s not what I call it.”
“I don’t want to hear what you call it. Aunt Syl.” Amy hurried from the apartment with her robot.
Herman didn’t seem to have suffered any damage, she decided as they exited the elevator and went outside into the sunshine.
Patting his domed head, she said, “I’m proud of you, Herman. I think I’ve made you indestructible.”
Amy and her indestructible robot strolled up Central Avenue. Knowing that Herman always created a sensation, she had programmed him to salute and wave at intervals. The curious people who stopped to watch their progress were certain the robot was waving especially to them. Occasionally, Amy stopped to chat and to demonstrate her robot. She created more goodwill in one afternoon than most ambassadors create in a month.
“I love this city, don’t you?” she said to her robot as they entered a tree-shaded residential street. “The people are all so friendly.”
They continued their stroll, blissfully unaware that fate awaited them just around the corner. Amy stopped to admire a rose garden, and Herman got ahead of her. A large yellow tomcat leaped down from a fence just as the robot rounded the corner. The cat arched his back and reached out to claw the robot’s leg. Herman was not deterred. He continued to roll forward. Furthermore, his metal legs did more damage to the cat than the cat’s claws did to him.
Amy caught up with them just in time to see Herman step on the cat’s tail, sending the terrified cat scampering up a tree. He scratched and clawed and yowled his way to safety, startling a family of blue jays. They promptly dive-bombed from the tree and landed smack-dab in the middle of the Ladies’ Auxiliary summer picnic being hosted on the other side of the fence by Sunday Cove’s most uptight social maven. The screaming and squawking resulting from the unexpected meeting of the jays and the Ladies’ Auxiliary could be heard half a block away.
If Amy had been Hortense, she would have used a choice word or two. Instead, she brought Herman to a halt with the remote control and clambered over the fence to see how she could make amends. The fence was tall and she was short, but fear hastened her on, for the screaming on the other side had risen an octave. In her haste she tore a rent in her blue jeans and lost the topmost button on her blouse.
She teetered uncertainly on the top of the fence, seeing no way to get down except by jumping. She jumped, landing in the middle of bedlam. Three screaming matrons were waving their arms, trying to shoo away the screeching jays, while another woman was standing atop a swaying glider, batting her Panama hat in the air and yelling, “Get out of here, you birds!”
A woman, whom Amy later learned to be Mrs. Matilda Hildenbrand, descended on her.
“Young lady, are you responsible for this?”
Amy looked up at the distressed woman and wanted to laugh. She was accustomed to mayhem and knew that laughter sometimes relieved the tension. But this poor woman was obviously not in a jovial mood.
Amy stood up and brushed grass off her pants. “I’m afraid Herman scared your cat, and the cat scared the birds—”
“I don’t have a cat,” Mrs. Hildenbrand interrupted. “That obnoxious creature belongs next door. In all my sixty”—she stopped to correct herself—”fifty-five years I’ve never seen anything like this. We may never get Marlene off the glider.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” Amy said. “My robot and I—”
“Robot! Did you say robot? What’s this world coming to? A body can’t have a decent summer picnic without being invaded by technology. Microwaves were bad enough—turning the canapes to rubber—but robots are simply unthinkable.”
“Herman is really quite nice. As a matter of fact, I’ll bring him inside and he can help clean up this mess. It’s the least I can do, since he’s the one who scared the cat.”
Mrs. Hildenbrand pursed her lips and stretched her long neck so that she was looking down her skinny nose at Amy. “Young lady, what’s your name?”
“Amy Logan.”
“Well, Miss Amy Logan, I wouldn’t have that robot in my yard if my hair was on fire and he was holding the only bucket of water in the South. You’ve caused enough damage for one day. But rest assured that Mrs. Matilda Hildenbrand will see that justice is done. I’ll see you in court!”
Amy made a hasty retreat. The only glimmer of sunshine left in her day was that she spied a gate behind the oak tree. At least she wouldn’t have to climb back over the fence. Grateful for small favors, she went through the gate and rejoined Herman.
Her steps dragged as she headed back to her apartment. She was totally unaware of the grand old city, washed gold by the lowering afternoon sun, and of the people who smiled as they passed by. All she could think of was the ill-fated summer picnic and the threat of another da
y in court. What would happen to her? she wondered. This was her second offense. Would she go to jail this time? Would Todd be her judge? Would knowing a judge help?
By the time Amy reached her building, she had imagined all sorts of horrors. Her shoulders sagged as she pushed open the heavy, ornate door. She felt the burden of her plight, and it was doubly heavy because she had no one to share it with. Not even Aunt Syl.
She pushed the elevator button and shuddered at the thought of going upstairs to her empty apartment. Why hadn’t she gone to the concert with her aunt? Why hadn’t she stayed home and baked a cake? Why hadn’t she made any number of other choices?
As the elevator doors swung open in front of her, Amy suddenly knew that she was not going upstairs. Taking her little robot, she walked down the hall, scanning the doors for the name she sought. There it was—the apartment directly below hers. Just seeing the name, Todd Cunningham, printed in brass and looking every bit as solid as the man himself, gave her comfort.
Taking a deep breath, she punched the doorbell. She heard the echo in the apartment and waited. There was no sound. She punched the bell again.
“Please be there,” she said. “I need somebody to talk to.”
“I’m glad you came to me,” she heard Todd say behind her. She whirled around, her face lighting at the sight of him. He looked so solid and good standing there in the hall that she almost threw her arms around him.
“I didn’t really ...” she began. “It was just that... You see, Herman caused ...” She stopped, not sure what to say. She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. As she stood uncertainly in the hall, a tear slid down her cheek. Her need welled up inside her, so overwhelming that impressions didn’t matter anymore. She flung herself into his arms and sobbed against his shoulder. “Oh, Todd ... Mrs. Matilda Hildenbrand is going to take me to coo-uurrt.” The last word was a wail as she released all her pent-up anxiety.
At that moment Todd wanted to bow down and kiss Mrs. Matilda Hildenbrand’s feet. He hugged Amy close, rubbing her back and making soothing noises. With his chin resting on her soft hair, he smiled and smiled and smiled. If all his days in court could end this way, he thought he would be the happiest man in Sunday Cove. Probably the happiest man in the whole world.
He stood in the hall holding her, not daring to move for fear of breaking the magic spell. The front of his shirt was damp from her tears and still she clung to him a way that so endearing he didn’t even stop to wonder why the scent of orange blossoms was so strong in the hall.
Reaching carefully into his pocket with one hand, he backed against his door, fumbled with the lock, and backed into his apartment, still holding Amy. He kicked the door shut with his foot.
She lifted her tear-stained face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m carrying on like this. It’s not as if I’ll be hanged or anything.” Her brave smile was tremulous around the edges.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You need a friend, and I’m here.” He smiled down at her. “And no, you won’t be hanged. My guess is that Mrs. Matilda Hildenbrand will charge you with disturbing the peace. It will be just like the last time except easier because you’ll know what to expect.”
“Is that all?”
“No. That’s not all. I’ll be there.” He chucked her under the chin. “How can anything bad happen to a China doll like you when I’m around?”
Now that the burden of the unknown had been lifted. Amy became aware that she was still in Todd’s arms. She was also aware of how good those arms felt. What surprised her even more was that she didn’t feel the tiniest glimmer of guilt. There was no sense of betrayal, no urgency to preserve Tim’s memory, no desperate need to cling to the past. As a matter of fact, she felt no need to leave the shelter of Todd’s arms, so she stayed.
Her smile was as free as sunshine on a summer’s day as she looked up at him. “With my penchant for getting into trouble, perhaps I should have a whistle to summon you.”
“You don’t need a whistle. I’ll always be there for you.”
She laughed. “Like the Force?”
“I think you’ve been seeing too many Star Wars movies.” He grinned. “No. Like a good friend.” And more, too, if she’d let him, he added to himself.
“I’ll remember that.” Since there no longer seemed to be any real reason for being in his arms, she pulled away reluctantly. “I have to be going.”
“Why?”
“Because I left poor Herman in the hall...”
“Bring him in.”
“... and it’s almost time for dinner.”
“You’re invited to stay for dinner.”
“Aunt Syl might come in and not know where I am.”
“We’ll call upstairs and tell her.”
“And—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my gosh, I forgot to buy food. There’s nothing to eat in my apartment except birdseed.”
“You wouldn’t want to deprive Hortense. Stay and have dinner with me.”
“Is that an invitation or just an act of charity?”
“An invitation.” And an act of passion, he added silently.
“In that case, I accept.”
“I have to warn you. This is Justin’s night off. Does the guest of honor object to kitchen duty?”
“I’m a whiz with wilted lettuce, but I don’t do dishes.”
“Neither do I.”
“Herman does.”
“Then by all means, let’s invite him to dinner.” Todd swept open his front door, and Amy brought her little robot inside. The three of them moved through the immaculate apartment to the kitchen.
“Are you sure he can handle the dishes?” Todd asked as he began to unload the makings of a Chinese dinner from the refrigerator.
“He does dishes with the same skill that he handles laundry.”
Grinning, Todd walked to a cabinet and began rummaging around. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” he muttered.
“What?”
“The soap.” He turned and held a box of soap powder aloft. “We don’t want Herman to run out of soap, do we?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No. But it’s definitely a loaded one.”
“You are a pushy judge. I knew that the first time I saw you.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Criminals don’t get off lightly in this courtroom,” she warned.
Their easy repartee had brought roses to Amy’s cheeks again. She was having so much fun, she forgot about her impending day in court. She forgot about the tear in her jeans and Mrs. Matilda Hildenbrand and the forever silence of death. She forgot everything except the moment. It was too precious to waste. No matter what tomorrow would bring, she was going to live this moment to the hilt.
“Sentence me, Judge Amy Logan,” Todd said.
“One hour of hard labor at the stove. I’m starving.”
“Then you landed on the right doorstep. My Chinese cuisine is unsurpassed in Sunday Cove.”
Chapter 6
After bragging about his Chinese cooking, Todd was determined to outdo himself with the meal, but Amy kept distracting him in unexpected ways. He handed her a fork and told her to stir-fry the mushrooms. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, she stirred with such enthusiasm that she jiggled and bounced. It was not a motion conducive to helping him keep his mind on cooking, especially since the top button on her blouse was gone and he kept getting provocative glimpses of her cleavage. He wiped his sweaty brow on a dishtowel and tried to concentrate on the egg rolls, but it was useless. Egg rolls lost their appeal beside Amy’s evident charms.
She turned and smiled at him. “Are these ready?”
“If they were any more ready, they would explode.”
“Do mushrooms explode?”
“What?”
“I said, do mushrooms explode?”
“Not lately.”
“You’re the Chinese food expert. If you say they’re ready. I guess I’ll take them up.
Do you have a bowl?”
“Do they need one?”
“Todd! Are you listening to me? You seem a million miles away.”
He recovered enough to take his gaze off her. “I’m not as far away as you think. What did you say about the mushrooms?”
“We’re past the mushrooms. I asked about a bowl.”
“In the cabinet.”
When she turned around and stretched on tiptoe to rummage in the cabinet, he realized the jiggling couldn’t hold a candle to this new distraction. The rent in the back of Amy’s jeans partially revealed a sassy backside clad in pink silk. As he admired this new view, he squeezed the poor hapless egg rolls until they lost their water chestnuts. The chestnuts clinked onto the countertop while Todd considered whether he should get five years or fifteen for what he was thinking.
Amy turned around with her bowl, depriving Todd of his wonderful view, and caught him squeezing the egg rolls.
“Aren’t you supposed to seal those egg wrappers together gently?” she asked.
“No. This makes them pink.”
“Pink?”
“Did I say pink? I meant stick.”
She innocently swung her back to him again, and executed another jiggle as she dumped mushrooms into the bowl. Todd wondered how he had ever managed to prepare Chinese dinners without this fantastic scenery. He wondered what Amy would say if he asked her to become a permanent addition to his kitchen—torn jeans, pink panties, and all. He thought his culinary skills—not to mention his fantasies—might take on new dimensions.
That he finally managed to put the meal together was a remarkable feat. That he managed to sit across the table from her and actually carry on a conversation while eating was an even greater accomplishment. Particularly since he wanted to whisk her off to a desert island somewhere.
He lost track of the conversation so frequently that he feared Amy would read his mind and take flight, but she was completely carefree now that the burden of court had been lifted. A herd of elephants could have marched through the dining room and she wouldn’t have cared.
Over the egg rolls they talked of music and sailing and beds that sing. Over the sweet-and-sour shrimp they talked of his brothers and grandparents and her aunt Syl. Over the green tea they created a blueprint for changing Washington, D.C., then laughed at their audacity as they began to devise a plan to change the world. By the time they got to the fortune cookies, they both felt that deepening respect that comes from getting to know someone you already admire.
