The Girl Next Door

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “That’s all it takes,” Duncan persisted, peering intently at Gemma. “Just a minute’s carelessness and your life is ruined.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Nina said, scowling. She turned very deliberately to her sister-in-law. “Gemma, I’m sorry we bothered you. We’re going to go now.”

  “It’s all right,” said Gemma.

  “No, it’s not,” said Nina. Without another word to her father, Nina began stalking up the lawn toward the gate.

  “Hey,” Duncan said, following behind and catching up to her at the car. He jerked the car door open. He was the one scowling now. “There’s no need to be rude to me, young lady.”

  Nina turned on him. “Rude to you? You’re the one who was rude. To Gemma.”

  “Hey, let me tell you something, Nina. You don’t know everything. I understood that conversation. She told us that the housekeeper was supposed to be watching them, but the housekeeper said it was her afternoon off.”

  “They were speaking Spanish,” Nina said impatiently. “Since when do you speak Spanish?”

  “For your information, Nina, the doctor at the prison was Spanish-speaking. He taught me,” said Duncan. “Dr. Quinteros. He was at the parole hearing.”

  For a fleeting moment, Nina recalled the handsome doctor catching her eye, offering her reassurance. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She turned on her father. “Spanish or no Spanish, it was a misunderstanding. Why are you believing the housekeeper over Gemma? It seemed to me that woman had a bad attitude.”

  “Maybe she had a right to have that attitude. Listen, Nina, those are my grandsons. I don’t want anything …”

  “Yes, those are your grandsons,” Nina cried. “And in case you haven’t noticed, their mother is one of the few people who’s been nice to you. You haven’t got all that many people being decent to you. You might try not alienating the few people who are.”

  “Don’t tell me how to act,” Duncan said, pointing a finger at her.

  Nina felt far beyond the point where she would accept a scolding from her father. Not after all that had happened. “Fine, Dad. You stop embarrassing me and I’ll stop telling you how to act,” she blurted out.

  Duncan looked at her ruefully. “You know, if I’m becoming a burden to you, Nina, you can go on back to your own life and not worry about me. I can manage.”

  “Just get in the car and don’t be ridiculous. You can man-age,” she scoffed. “You’ve done a great job of managing so far.”

  The minute she said it, Nina wished she hadn’t. It had sounded terrible and she hadn’t meant it. She was just tired, and worried about him. But she could tell by the injured look in Duncan’s eyes that now he felt betrayed by her, too. He opened the car door and climbed in without a word. She hadn’t meant to hurt him or insult him. She wanted to tell him that, but somehow she knew he wouldn’t want to hear it. It was already said, and it was too late to take it back.

  7

  THEY spent an uncomfortable evening speaking to one another only when necessary. But the next morning, when Nina began taking her aunt’s room apart, Duncan appeared in the doorway and started pushing furniture away from the wall. As she bundled up the curtains and started to carry them out to the washer, Duncan said, “Where’s the paint?”

  She pointed it out to him, and left him opening the can on the newspaper and stirring it with a wooden stick. When she returned, he had already begun cutting in the color around the windows. “Thanks, Dad,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said. They worked side by side making desultory conversation until Duncan asked if he could turn on the radio, and the music, along with the sun outside, breaking through the gray clouds, made the day seem brighter.

  Before she knew it, Nina was looking at her watch and realizing it was time to clean up and get ready to leave. All day, she had kept an ear cocked for the phone, waiting to hear from some of the realtors they had met, hoping someone would have a lead on an apartment for Duncan. But no one called while they were painting. As one realtor had explained to them the day before, it was a problem of limited supply and great demand. Hoffman was so close to New York City that every available space seemed to be rented, or available only for a huge price. Nina could tell that the search would have to be continued when she returned from New York.

  She needed to catch the bus back to the city, and that afternoon Duncan was scheduled to begin his first shift at the clinic in Newark. Armed with his temporary license, Duncan planned to drive to work. For her part, Nina had to be back in her apartment to pick out her clothes and get to sleep early so she would look her best for her auditions, which began early the next morning.

  “Are you sure you don’t need some more money?” she asked her father an hour later as he drove her to the bus stop on his way to Newark. It was strange to see him behind the wheel again, to be a passenger beside him.

  “I’ve got enough money. God, there’s so much more traffic than there used to be,” he said. He had been driving carefully, almost too slowly.

  “You have to keep moving, Dad,” said Nina.

  “I know that, Nina.”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  For a few minutes they rode in silence. Then he said, “Good luck with your auditions.”

  “Thanks. I’ll only be gone a few days. If somebody calls about an apartment, make an appointment for us to see it over the weekend. And don’t forget, you have to meet with your parole officer Thursday morning at ten. There’s food in the refrigerator and if you need anything, you have my cell phone number and my service number. I call the service all the time …”

  Duncan shook his head. “Nina, stop it. How often do I have to tell you?”

  They had pulled into a parking spot on Lafayette Street right near the bus stop. Nina hated it when he used that tone with her. She knew he was annoyed with her. But all she was trying to do was let him know she was in his corner. And now the peace between them that they had reestablished that morning suddenly felt fragile. She glanced in the sideview mirror, trying to see if the large green and silver bus was in view.

  “I will miss you, though,” he said apologetically.

  Instantly, she felt better. Relieved. “I’ll miss you, too,” she said. She glanced again in the sideview mirror and looked across the street at Lindsay Farrell’s store. With a little jolt of surprise she realized that there was a familiar car parked at the meter in front of the store. A silver-blue Jaguar. How many of those could there be in this town? she thought.

  Duncan glanced at his watch. “Honey, I’d better be on my way. I don’t want to be late on my first day.”

  Nina was not about to mention her suspicions to her father. “No problem,” said Nina. “I’ll wait under the shelter. The bus will be along soon.”

  “I’m sorry to leave you like this,” Duncan said.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Nina leaned across the seat and kissed him on the cheek.

  He nodded absently and glanced again at the map of Newark. She knew he was anxious about finding his way to the clinic. “Good luck with the job,” she said, as she got out of the car and took her bag from the backseat. “And, Dad, I’m sorry about what I said to you yesterday out at Patrick’s. I didn’t mean it.”

  He smiled sadly at her and squeezed her hand. “Nina, you’ve been a lifesaver to me. No man could have a better daughter.”

  She squeezed his hand back, not trusting herself to speak. She slammed the car door shut and waved at him. “See you soon. Friday at the latest.”

  Waving and looking carefully in all directions, he pulled away from the curb and merged with the traffic. Nina sighed, and sat down on the bench to await the bus.

  She thought about running through her lines for the table reading she was doing tomorrow afternoon, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Instead, she sat watching the people going by on the busy street. And staring at the blue Jag. After about five minutes, the door of Lindsay Farrell’s shop opened, and a man and a woman em
erged. The woman was slim but voluptuous, wearing a short purple leather skirt and matching spiked heels, with a brilliant red silk kimono top embroidered with brilliant, jewel-colored butterflies. It was Lindsay Farrell. Lindsay’s platinum hair was still long, but in a fashionable asymmetric cut. She looked even more dazzling than she had in high school.

  Lindsay was resting one long elegant hand on the jacket sleeve of the man she was with—Patrick. Patrick was speaking to her earnestly, inclining his salt-and-pepper head toward her so that their faces almost touched. She was nodding solemnly as Patrick spoke. They brushed cheeks and Patrick walked around the car, getting into the driver’s seat of the blue Jag. Lindsay waved as he revved the engine.

  Nina quickly bent over and rummaged in her bag. She stayed that way until she could see that the parking space was empty. But when she zipped the bag and straightened up, she caught sight of Lindsay, still standing outside the store, hands on her hips, head at an angle, gazing curiously in her direction.

  All of a sudden she heard her own name. “Nina?”

  Nina feigned confusion and looked around, as if wondering where the voice might be coming from. She finally looked at Lindsay, but allowed no recognition to show in her face. Lindsay checked out the traffic and then strode across the street in her stiletto heels toward the bus stop. Two male drivers stopped to let her pass and stared. They were each rewarded with a flash of her dimpled smile. Lindsay stepped up on the curve and stood right in front of Nina.

  “Nina,” she said. “Don’t you remember me? Lindsay Farrell.”

  Nina looked at her blankly, and then pretended a delayed recognition. “Oh, sure,” she said slowly. “Lindsay.”

  “That’s right,” Lindsay said. “That’s my shop across the street. Your brother, Patrick, was just here. Didn’t you see him?”

  “I didn’t notice,” Nina lied.

  “He loves antiques. He has a really good eye.”

  A really roving eye, Nina thought disgustedly. “What are you doing here? I thought you left Hoffman,” Nina said blandly.

  Lindsay shook her head. “I did. I lived in Europe for a long time. But I had to come back. Messy divorce. I had to regroup. Anyway, I opened an antiques store. A girl’s got to support herself somehow. You know how that is. I heard you’re still single.” There was a grating hint of condolence in her voice and in her huge blue eyes.

  “Right,” said Nina, smiling thinly.

  “Patrick told me they let your father out of jail. Is that why you’re here?” Lindsay asked.

  It’s none of your business, Nina thought angrily. Was it possible that Patrick was betraying Gemma with this vapid bimbo? It couldn’t be. Patrick had been lucky to get away from her in the first place. He had to know that. Whatever Gemma might lack in terms of warmth or sociability, her loyalty was unquestionable. How could he even think about hurting her like that?

  “Nina?”

  “Oh yes, my dad. I’m really happy about it,” said Nina.

  Lindsay tossed her silvery blond hair and it gleamed in the fading autumn sunlight. “Really? Patrick doesn’t seem to feel that way.”

  Nina glanced down the street and, to her immense relief, saw the bus approaching.

  She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. “He’s entitled to his own feelings,” she said. “Sorry. I have to run. My bus is here.”

  “Taking the bus?” Lindsay asked sympathetically.

  “I’m a New Yorker,” said Nina. “We don’t do cars.”

  If Lindsay made a reply, it was drowned out by the hydraulic whoosh as the bus doors opened and the vehicle sank down to an accessible level against the curb. Nina got on board without a backward glance. By the time she had given the driver her ticket and found a seat, she could no longer see any sign of Lindsay Farrell on the street.

  AS she was getting ready for bed, performing every beauty ritual she knew, the phone rang. Immediately, Nina thought of Duncan as she grabbed it.

  “Nina, I finally got you. It’s Hank.”

  Nina felt instantly uneasy. Hank Talbot. The man Aunt Mary had asked her about. Nina and Hank Talbot had had a brief fling in the summer after he saw her in a play and inundated her with flowers. She remembered telling her aunt about him enthusiastically when they met. And it had seemed promising at first. He was good-looking, successful, and divorced, and for a short time she enjoyed being with him. But gradually she realized that he couldn’t sustain interest in any conversation that didn’t center on himself. Some men made her feel like an earthbound alien, and Hank Talbot turned out to be one of them. Her aunt was right—she wanted to love someone, to have her own family. But sometimes she thought she would never make that kind of connection with anyone. She couldn’t pretend to love a man when she didn’t. Even though Hank seemed to scarcely notice it when she began to back out of the affair, she still felt a little guilty. And now, hearing his voice on the phone, she felt pressured as well. “Hi, Hank.”

  “It’s hard to catch up with you these days. Of course, I’ve been out of town so much. I was in Europe for almost a month.”

  “Oh really,” she said, recalling that, after the first fusillade of flowers, she had come to dislike it when he tried to impress her. “Where in Europe?”

  “Paris, actually. They couldn’t handle things in the Paris office. They needed me there to straighten them out.”

  “Paris. My favorite city,” she murmured.

  “You should have come with me,” he said lightly.

  Nina stifled a sigh. “I’ve been … real busy.” She had never told him about her father when they were dating. She wasn’t about to tell him now.

  “Well, I’m back in town for a while, and while it’s not the Tour d’Argent, I’ve heard about a new place that’s supposed to be pretty good,” he said. “You interested?”

  Nina grimaced. “I’m really only back for a couple of days myself and then … I’ll be out of town again.”

  “Playing the boonies?” he said with an edge to his voice.

  Her guilt about dumping him faded. She heard a click on the line. “No. Um. It’s a personal thing. Hank, listen, I’ve got to take this. I’m expecting an urgent call. But thanks for … the invitation.”

  Before he could reply she pressed the flash button, and felt relieved when she heard the familiar voice of Keith on the other end of the phone. She pictured him in his poolside rental in Westwood, wearing preppy clothes and schoolboy glasses, with his East Coast pallor and thinning blond hair. The proverbial fish out of water.

  “How did the return to Hoffman go?” he asked.

  “A little rocky,” Nina admitted. “My father’s so vulnerable. Everything is strange to him. And people say such nasty things. It scares me a little.”

  “I’m really sorry about the co-op board,” he said.

  “It’s all right. He’s where he wants to be.”

  “Why don’t you bring him out to L.A.? He can enjoy the weather and the palm trees. We’ll take him to some clubs, give him the VIP treatment at the studio.”

  Nina felt irritated with Keith. She knew that his ability to grasp other people’s problems was limited. “Keith, he’s on parole. He’s not on vacation. He can’t go larking off anywhere he pleases.”

  Keith sounded chastened. “Right,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Nina felt the injury in his silence and realized she’d overreacted. “Thanks anyway,” she said apologetically, “for the thought. I know you’re only trying to help. So, tell me, how’s the series going?”

  “Fine,” he said, instantly recovered. “Better than they’d hoped. They want me to stay. The network ordered seven more episodes.”

  “Stay?” said Nina anxiously. “For how long?”

  “Well, as long as … need be. The show is being very well received. This could turn into something … permanent.”

  “Permanent?” she said. She knew that she would miss his friendship if he stayed in L.A. But, guiltily, she realized that her first conce
rn was the apartment.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, as if he were reading her mind. “I’m not going to give up the co-op. You can stay there as long as you like.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about that,” she lied.

  “Yes you were. I would be, too, if I were you. But you know, Nina, you ought to think seriously about coming out here. This is where the work is, and now I’m in a position to help.”

  “I know,” she said. “And I know you would.”

  “You’ve got to do it while you’re still young. Besides, it would be fun. We could do the town together. I’ll introduce you around.”

  “I’ve thought about it,” said Nina. “Believe me. But …”

  “But what?”

  Nina sighed. “I can’t leave right now. Everything is too … tentative.”

  “With your father,” Keith said flatly.

  “He needs me right now,” she said.

  “God, Nina. How much more are you going to sacrifice for him? Hasn’t he done enough to ruin your life?”

  “Hey,” she protested angrily. But then she told herself not to take his remark seriously. In a way, it was typical Keith. He didn’t allow entangling alliances to drag him down. How could Keith be expected to understand that Duncan was a man teetering on a tightrope? How could she explain to Keith that she had to be there, to have her arms outstretched, in case her father fell?

  IN the morning, when she arrived at the Seasons Cosmetics audition, the casting director frowned as he looked from Nina’s glossy head shot to her haggard face. She had had trouble sleeping, which always had a bad effect on her appearance. The circles under her eyes looked like dark smudges against her white skin, no matter how hard she tried to cover them. She sat in the chair as the casting director and his assistant circled her, examining her.

  “Great hair,” he said, lifting up a shiny black length of it as if it were a horse’s tail. The assistant murmured agreement. “I like the purple,” he said, inserting one finger under the shoulder strap of her short formfitting dress. The casting director bent down to eye level and studied her facial features as if she were a large doll. “Good cheekbones, great lips.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “But, honey, I think those eyes of yours have seen a few too many sunsets, if you know what I mean. Cosmetics is a young girl’s game.”