Closer

by Aria Hawthorne

  He walked forward, touching the wall for guidance until he discovered a banister running along it. He gripped it like a security line and followed the scent of singed pine. It relaxed his senses and drew him into the bright, octagonal living room, its grand arching windows letting in the light through sheer curtains. He quickly adjusted his vision, expecting to see a room crowded with antiques and period piece furniture. Instead, he made out the image of a crib in the darkest corner of the room, a baby swing adjacent to it, and a changing table near the windows. He stepped forward, then stopped when heard the squeaky toy below his feet. He retrieved it, a miniature rubber giraffe. The only things more abundant than baby items were towers of books, magazines, and newspapers, stacked like firewood against the far wall.

  “C’mon, you can sit there…in Inez’s chair.”

  She nodded to the wooden chair across from her sofa recliner. He sat down and unexpectedly swept backwards with an eerie creak. A rocking chair.

  The woman spread out several cards across the coffee table like she was preparing for business. “Where’s the pot?”

  He flipped the hundred dollar bill into the center of the table. The woman picked up the bill and inhaled its crisp scent. Then, she retrieved a large magnifying glass from her knitting basket to inspect it. Satisfied with its authenticity, she dropped the bill onto the table. “Ok, if you win, I get to keep your money. If I win, I get to keep your money.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “True. But you’re in my house, waiting for my granddaughter, so those are the rules. Take them or leave them.”

  Sven shifted in the rocker, pulled out his handkerchief, and threw a second hundred dollar bill into the pot. The woman inspected it and whistled. “Now I know why you’re Bachelor Number Two.”

  “I like to drive a harder bargain.”

  “Well, it won’t get you out of being the game caller.” She nudged the ball spinner across the table at him. “Give it a whirl and we’re off to the races.”

  Sven obeyed, spun the cage with its handle, and withdrew a marked ball.

  “May I?” he asked, holding out his hand for her magnifying glass.

  She conceded and raised her nose into the air, as if she was sizing him up. “So you’re far-sighted?”

  “Partially blind,” he corrected her and inspected the ball under the concave glass. “Fourteen…G”

  “G-Fourteen,” she corrected him. “Just as I suspected. You’re not a bingo player.”

  “True,” he smiled, recognizing Inez’s bluntness. “You’ve found me out.”

  “Well, there’s always a first time,” the old woman sighed, reaching out for the magnifying glass and scanning her own card before placing a plastic dot over the G14. “Sven van der Meer, the famous architect is partially blind? I bet that’s some horse and pony trick.”

  “Yes, it has been a trick,” Sven agreed. “But your granddaughter has been helping me. Now I understand why she’s been so good at it. She’s had a lot of practice.”

  “Yeah, since the first day she came to live with me after her parents died. Spin the cage,” she directed him.

  He paused, spun the handle, and retrieved the ball. She passed back the magnifying glass and he called out the number. “B-seven. So she lost both of her parents at the same time?” he asked, not certain he had a right to know about Inez’s past.

  “Car accident. Black ice. Head on collision, killed her father instantly,” Inez’s grandmother confirmed. “Smashed his whole body against the steering wheel like an accordion. The other car’s bumper clipped my daughter in the head. She lingered like a vegetable for a few weeks but didn’t make it. Inez was in the car in the rear seat, but by the grace of God, she walked away without a scratch. Eight years old. Tough as nails that little girl. Still tough as nails.”

  “Like her grandmother, perhaps,” Sven added. “N-eight.”

  “Well, I can’t take any credit for that,” Inez’s grandmother said, taking back the magnifying glass. “Childcare Services put her in foster care and I didn’t get her turned over to me until she was almost thirteen. You lose a lot of innocence by the time you’re thirteen and Inez was thirteen going on thirty by the time she came to live with me. And now she’s got the baby and her old granny to care for, and I fear she’s never gonna know what it’s like to have fun and be young without a care in the world.”

  Sven accepted the shared magnifying glass and spun the cage. “I think there are many of us who have forgotten what it feels like to have fun and be young without a care in the world. G-eleven.”

  “Which is why you are playing bingo together—of course.”

  Sven and Inez’s grandmother turned towards Inez’s voice. Standing in the threshold between the living room and the doorway, she held her baby in her arms, but her accusatory glare fell upon Sven, challenging his intrusion into her private world.

  Inez’s grandmother shrugged. “Well, don’t sound like it’s a conspiracy against you…he came by here, looking for you, and he said he wanted to wait. Can’t blame me for accepting his money to teach him how to play bingo.”

  “No, I don’t blame you, Nana,” she replied, sweeping up the two hundred dollar bills and stuffing them back into Sven’s hand. “But I do blame him. Apparently, he’s under the impression that everyone is for sale.”

  Sven crushed the bills in his fist, his hand burned by her rejection. Slowly, he rose from the rocker, cleared his throat, and avoided direct eye contact. The tension between them—her against him—lanced his heart without mercy. “I came here because I still have opera tickets tonight, and I would like you to accompany me.”

  Inez scoffed, as if it was not only insulting, but also inconceivable. “Well, I sort of lost my evening babysitter, and as you can see, I have obligations beyond just fancy nights of wearing gowns and high heels, pretending to be something I’m not.”

  He clenched his jaw and strained to hold her gaze. His sight was fading, and his conviction that he could steal her to away with him was waning with every verbal strike she made against him. Her baby fussed in her arms, reminding him of the reality of her situation.

  “Excuse me.” She pushed past him towards the rocker. Settling into it, she unapologetically swept up her T-shirt and unclipped her bra. “Plus, I doubt I’d be able to do this very easily at the opera,” she dared him, openly nursing her baby.

  Sven forced himself not to look away. She was testing him and he would not fail her challenge. He had been raised in a country where breastfeeding in public was routine; he had seen countless mothers nursing their babies and never thought twice about it. But admittedly, none of those women were women he had previously wanted—sexually. And now, he was surprised that the only desire that flared up within him was the urge to protect her.

  “I have box seats, so we can do whatever you would like,” he said, carefully, cautiously, without any other insinuations of obligation. “We can even bring your daughter with us.”

  “To the opera?” Inez looked at him like he was crazy. “Clearly, you haven’t spent much time around babies.”

  “No, but I’m willing to try.”

  “They cry—a lot.” Inez swayed faster in her rocker.

  Unaffected, he shrugged.

  “They poop even more,” she insisted.

  He looked down at the tiny little creature in her arms. How much could she possibly poop?

  “They sleep—most of the time,” Nana cut in, like she was watching a tennis match and she wanted to throw a beer can onto the courts, just for extra entertainment. “And crowded noisy places will do just the trick. Unless it’s Wagner. In which case, she might be scarred for life.”

  “Puccini,” Sven replied. “La Bohème.”

  “You’ve got a winner,” Nana said with a nod.

  Inez glared at her traitorous grandmother. “I have nothing here to wear to the freaking opera,” she asserted. Obviously, she believed it was impossible, which made Sven even more determined.


  “Something for you to wear can easily be arranged,” he replied and retrieved his phone.

  “No—” she stopped him. “I’m not your little doll coming out of the cupboard tonight.”

  Sven lowered his phone. It was true, he was about to call Ebony, but he swiftly ended the call.

  “I have a dress…I think,” she finally offered like a truce. “But I’m not wearing heels.”

  Their eyes locked. “I don’t even care if you wear sneakers. I just want you to come.” He paused and held her gaze. In that moment, he was committed to her—not to their arrangement—and he wanted her to know it. “What else do you need?”

  Inez rocked with fury, then finally answered. “A dress for Luna.”

  Sven exhaled with relief, certain he could meet that challenge. “Okay, good…these things can be arranged.” He held up his phone again, waiting to see if she would protest. Instead, she added to the order.

  “And probably a nicer diaper bag. Unless you think I can get away with Hello Kitty.”

  He followed her nod to the garish pink tote bag decorated with the famous cartoon emblem, lying on the floor near the entryway. He paused, wondering what else a mother might need to take care of her baby, but he suspected Ebony would have the answers. He started to make the call, but stopped when she interrupted him.

  “This is seriously ridiculous.” Inez fixed her dark eyes onto him. “Us—attempting to bring an almost four-month-old baby to the opera? You do realize that, right?”

  “I don’t think it’s ridiculous in the slightest,” he countered, flashing her a smile. “In fact, I’m certain it will be the best night at the opera I’ve had in a long, long time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was all a surreal dream, Inez thought as Sven’s black Rolls Royce rolled up to the curb and stopped in front of the Lyric Opera House. Sweeping open the door, James extended his hand and assisted her out of the car. Taxis and limousines filed behind them. Women in fur coats and men in black suits mingled in front of the grand terracotta entryway. Inez glanced back into the rear seat, preparing to scoop up Luna into her arms until Sven suddenly appeared next to her.

  Carrying Luna’s entire car seat by its handle, he said, “I’ll do the heavy lifting if you guide the way.” Inez noted his stylish masculine suit coat and tie, offset by the maternal black leather diaper bag slung over his shoulder.

  He made it look so easy, Inez thought. She could barely lift Luna’s forty pound car seat, much less carry it with Luna in it, plus her diaper bag. Now, Sven made it all look effortless, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, escorting his date on one hand while hoisting a baby’s car seat in his other. Inez glanced down at Luna. She was chewing on her rubber squeaky giraffe and kicking her socked feet past the hem of her frilly pink princess gown.

  Inez accepted Sven’s arm and guided them into the opulent grand lobby. Luna’s brown eyes brightened, captivated by the sparkling chandelier lights and the murmuring sea of patrons.

  “Look for the stairs to the mezzanine,” Sven instructed her. “We’ll take them up to the box seats.”

  Inez nodded and led them through the crowd, scanning the faces of the ushers, certain they would soon be stopped by the opera police.

  “Oh, look at her…” Inez heard from behind her. She glanced back at a pair of older women in black sequin dresses. Expecting to weather the judgmental glare of Madame Nasty and her Nastier Twin Sister, she frowned at them until she realized they weren’t noticing her simple black skirt or her worn ballet flats. They were cooing at Luna with endearment.

  “What a lovely family,” one woman said to the other.

  Drawing Inez’s hand closer into his body, Sven smiled and nodded politely. It wasn’t that he just made it seem all too easy, Inez thought, relaxing within the security of his arm. It was the fact that he made her feel like she and Luna belonged there.

  “Stairs,” she cautioned him.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Together, they followed the staircase up to the mezzanine where an usher in a black concierge uniform greeted them.

  “Good evening, Mr. van der Meer. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you last. Welcome back to the Lyric.” The usher extended his hand and Sven shook it warmly.

  “Thank you, Andrew. It’s been a while.”

  “And now, I understand why.” The usher looked down at Luna and smiled. “Congratulations to you both.”

  Inez glanced over at Sven, but Sven did not correct the assumption that Luna was his own child.

  “Thank you.” Sven replied. “We are looking forward to an enjoyable evening.”

  “Nothing is more enjoyable or romantic than the arias of Puccini,” the usher offered, spreading out his hands like it was a certainty. He guided them along a narrow corridor and past floor-length red velvet curtains into their private box seats furnished with two regal sitting chairs.

  The chandelier lights flickered throughout the auditorium, signaling the imminent start of the performance. Inez leaned into the balcony, noting the gold gilt carvings etched into its wooden railing, and gazed down upon the people seated below them. Their chatter and laughter floated up through the air like gleeful bubbles and the arpeggios of the brass horns and strings from orchestra pit rolled in waves through the cathedral ceilings of the auditorium.

  “I feel like a queen.” She sat back in her seat against the plush velvet of the upholstered chair.

  “Fitting.” Sven nodded, as if he was enjoying the fact that she was enjoying herself.

  The lights flickered again before slowly fading into darkness. Abruptly, the crowd broke into applause, welcoming the orchestra conductor onto the podium. Just as Inez had feared, Luna began to whimper and fuss. She quickly unclipped her car seat belt and swept her up into her arms. Searching for a way to keep her calm and quiet, she dug through the black leather diaper bag.

  “She can’t possibly be hungry. I just fed her.”

  Luna whined again, this time with enough conviction to project her reverberating cry over the balcony.

  “Here, give her to me.” Sven confidently reached out and drew Luna into his lap. Inez watched and waited, expecting Luna to writhe against him. Then, as if on cue, the heavy velvet curtains swept open as the bright lights and lively music introduced the picturesque stage and two male opera singers.

  Mesmerized by the booming voices of the tenors, Luna chewed on her rubber giraffe and settled into Sven’s lap. He comforted her with a subtle sway, as if he had held a hundred babies before her. He didn’t act like she was a thing to worry about; he simply treated her like an extension of himself. After a few minutes, he glanced over at Inez, sharing an intimate smile, taking pleasure in the rare moment of harmony. It had been the perfect plan and everything was under control. She smiled back at him and relaxed in her own seat. Yes, it was a rare moment of harmony, she thought, made rarer by the fact that she wasn’t hiding who she really was or pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

  It only lasted a brief moment. She shifted in her chair, unnerved by the sensation of someone staring directly at her. She swept her eyes across the auditorium, searching out the source. Eliot Watercross. From the private box seats on the opposite side of the stage, he saluted her with a tilt of his head and his Hollywood grin while his fierce eyes fixed on her. She rubbed her wrist and winced, his constricting clasp still fresh in her memory from the last time they had met. She glanced at Sven who couldn’t see beyond the private, insular world within their box seats. Inez shot a glare back at Watercross, still watching them, delivering his subliminal warning—he was patiently waiting for Sven’s cooperation. A sinking sickness consumed her from the inside out as she considered what would happen if Sven chose not to cooperate—or worse, if his failing eyesight made him unable to cooperate. Watercross would ruin him.

  Instinctively, she reached out and enveloped Sven’s hand in hers, unifying them. Sven peered down at her grasp, letting the soft curve of her hand meld into h
is own. She had held his hand many times over the past few days, physically steering him through lobbies and hallways, and socially escorting him to dinners and parties, but never had she felt such a sense of allegiance between them as she felt now.

  When Inez shifted her focus again to the opposite side of the auditorium, the box seats were vacant and Watercross was gone. For a moment, she wondered if she had imagined it all until she saw his unmistakable shadow swaggering through the corridor running behind the box seat curtains. Sven noted the tension release from her hand.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “I am now,” she said, nodding to Luna who had fallen fast asleep in Sven’s lap.

  “That’s the power of Puccini,” he replied.

  “I guess that makes her a high society girl already.”

  “Yes, like her mother.” He delicately shifted Luna’s weight into the crook of his other arm.

  “It won’t last long, you know,” Inez warned him. “In an hour, she’ll wake up and want to be fed and I’ll have to whip out my boob in front of the entire auditorium.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” he quipped.

  She flashed him a smile and looked down at Luna. “It’s a long drive back to Ravenswood, so maybe we should make our escape at intermission?”

  “Unless we take her home.”

  Home—Inez repeated the word in her mind. He let the invitation linger between them, like he had done so many times before. But this time was different. This time, he offered it and shifted his gaze away, fully preparing for her rejection.

  Like she had done so many times before, she opened her mouth to refuse him until the music softened and the spotlight sharpened onto the lead tenor whose serenade to the gypsy flower merchant soared through the auditorium and silenced Inez’s soul.

  “Yes,” she finally replied with a nod. “Let’s take her home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  She sat in the luminous moonlight, nursing and rocking Luna to sleep within the solace of Sven’s balcony suite, enclosed in glass and encircled by an exterior garden patio overlooking the vast starless night and the churning black waters of Lake Michigan. Somehow, someway, Sven had arranged a crib and rocking chair to be delivered to his penthouse. He must have done it earlier that evening, she thought, despite the fact that he had no assurance that Inez would agree to come home with him. Now, as she swayed back and forth with Luna nestled snugly in her arms, she felt his silent presence in the adjacent master bedroom as he dimmed the lights to ensure her peace and comfort.