by Diane Barnes
She grins. “I told him that in order to spread the ashes, I had to make an appointment with the Realtor for a tour. He told me not to get any ideas.”
“Do you want to move back?” I ask, getting out of bed.
“Absolutely. The problem is Ashley’s job.” She shrugs. “But there is a Boston office.”
Patricia Ryan is waiting in the Murphys’ driveway as we drive up Towering Heights Lane. Out of habit, I park at my parents’. “You know what you’re doing?” Neesha asks.
I nod. We reviewed the plan several times on the drive over. When Patricia shows us the basement, I will distract her, and Neesha will slip out the side door and spread the ashes under the rosebush. No matter what, I can’t let Patricia go outside.
Neesha and I cross the street. “Neesha Patel,” Patricia screams. “You are absolutely gorgeous!” They hug while I stand there awkwardly watching. “How wonderful to see you.” Patricia glances at me and touches my arm. “You, too, Gina.”
We follow Patricia up the walkway and wait while she opens the lockbox and then the front door. Neesha steps through the door frame and pauses. As she studies her surroundings, her eyes fill with tears. I put my arm around her. Slowly she walks up the stairs. “It looks the same but different,” she says. Patricia shrugs, but I know exactly what Neesha means. The bones of the house are the same, but the Murphys have made many cosmetic changes through the years. They took down the blue and gray wallpaper and painted the walls tan. They ripped up the dark blue shag carpet that was covering the hardwood floors and replaced the old avocado-color kitchen appliances with stainless-steel versions.
Neesha runs her hand over the granite breakfast bar that replaced the Formica one that was there when she lived here. “We had a lot of laughs sitting here,” she says.
I nod.
She turns to inspect the stove. The Murphys replaced the Patels’ electric version with a gas five-burner. “Do you remember how my grandmother used to make us pudding after school in the winter?”
“Butterscotch.” I picture Ajee at the stove stirring and asking about our day. “You two got in trouble in Social Studies for passing notes today, yes?” She seemed to know everything we did and everything we were about to do.
Neesha reaches into her bag. For a moment I think she’s going to pull out the urn. Instead she grabs her cell phone and begins snapping pictures. “The kitchen is gorgeous now,” she says. “Ashley will never believe it’s the same room as the one in our photo albums.”
From the kitchen, Neesha walks down the hallway where the bedrooms are located. She turns into the first room on the left, which used to be hers. When Neesha lived here, there was a constant pile of clothes on the floor. Open books and notebooks were sprawled out on her unmade bed, and bureau drawers were never closed all the way. Today, there are two desks with clean surfaces and a wall of bookshelves. Neesha stands by the window and looks out. “Perfect view of your driveway,” she says. “When you were out, I used to watch for your mom’s car to return and then run over.”
Next she enters the bedroom next to her old one, which was Ajee’s. “I swear, she spent countless hours with her ear pressed against the wall when we were in my room,” Neesha says. “That’s how she always knew what we were up to.”
I stop to consider this. Maybe Neesha’s right. It’s what my mother has implied all along: Ajee knew the things she did because she made it her business to listen to conversations and watch interactions that were no business of hers.
Patricia, who remained in the kitchen talking on her cell phone, joins us in the master bedroom. Neesha rocks back and forth as she glances around. “Never spent much time in here after Mom died,” she whispers.
“They redid the bathroom and added a walk-in closet,” Patricia explains, either not hearing or ignoring the emotion in Neesha’s voice. Patricia opens a door, revealing a closet three feet wide with racks of clothing. I peek inside the bathroom and notice a Jacuzzi tub. Neesha laughs when she sees it. “That’s something my dad never would have added.” Again she sends pictures to Ashley.
We are on our way downstairs when he responds. Neesha smiles as she reads his message and hands me the phone. “I very much like this house,” his text says.
Once in the basement, Neesha gravitates immediately to the area where Ajee conducted her readings. Nothing of her reading parlor remains, however. Instead the walls are lined with shelves filled with boxes of tissue, toilet paper, soap, paper plates, and plastic cups. “Looks like someone shops in bulk,” Patricia says.
“Keep her distracted,” Neesha whispers. Then she wanders up the stairs that lead to the side door that opens to the yard.
Patricia takes a step to follow Neesha, but I stop her by calling her name. “Have you had a lot of interest in the house?”
“I’ll be honest because, you know, we’re old friends.” Patricia hesitates. “This is my first showing. The Murphys don’t want an open house. Makes it hard.” She shrugs.
Patricia continues on toward the door. I pull on her arm, and she stumbles on the stairway. “Gina, what are you doing?”
“Sorry. I think, I think Neesha’s talking to her husband. Let’s give her some privacy.”
Patricia narrows her eyes. I wonder if she’s remembering the time Neesha stole her dress from her gym locker so that she had to finish the school day in her sweaty shorts and T-shirt or some of the other tricks Neesha pulled on her. Now Patricia runs a hand through her hair. “Sure,” she finally says, spinning on the step and heading back down.
I glance out the door and spy Neesha by the rosebush with the urn in her hand. It seems so wrong to spread the ashes on the sly. I’m sure that’s not what Ajee had in mind. We should have a ceremony or at the very least offer up a prayer. I want to run outside and stop Neesha.
Patricia interrupts me from my thoughts. “Do you think you’ll buy anytime soon, Gina?”
I love my apartment, but how nice would it be if Ethan wanted to get a place with me? He can’t live with Jack forever, after all. Maybe if he doesn’t want to get married right away, we could just live together. How great would it be to come home to Brady and Ethan every night instead of an empty apartment? I imagine telling my parents I’m moving in with Ethan. I can see my mother’s frown. “He won’t buy the cow if he’s getting the milk for free, Gina.” I think about what my father would say and make a mental note to ask Ethan if he plays golf the next time I speak with him.
“How are your parents?” Patricia asks. “Do you think they’ll be selling anytime soon?”
“I doubt it.” I fear they will, though. Each year they stay in Florida longer, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to live there year-round.
Several minutes later Neesha comes back inside to find Patricia and me sitting at the breakfast bar. She catches my eye and shakes her head. “Thanks for showing me the house, Patricia,” she says. “Ashley and I are going to discuss it tonight.”
She sounds sincere, and I think she may be telling the truth.
Patricia hands Neesha her card, and we all head outside. We say good-bye to Patricia and head across the street. In the distance, a jogger crests the hill. Neesha and I turn to watch him. The runner calls my name. I bring my hand to my forehead to shade my eyes from the sun. He waves. As he gets closer, I realize it’s Cooper. When he reaches us, he bends at the waist and hangs his head. Why anyone would voluntarily run up Towering Heights Lane is beyond me. Neesha tilts her head and studies him carefully.
When he finally catches his breath, he looks up and smiles. Beads of perspiration drip down his beet red face. He lifts his green shirt to wipe the sweat away, showing glimpses of his six-pack abs.
“He’s hot!” Neesha mouths.
“So this is where you grew up?”
I nod. “I can’t believe you ran up that hill.”
He pats his stomach. “Ate a lot of decadent food over the weekend.” I picture him sharing dessert with the soccer mom and her brood of kids. I bet Cooper
is excellent with them. “Did you spread the ashes?” he asks.
“No,” Neesha says. “It seemed wrong to leave her by herself.” Cooper studies her with that squinty look I love so much. “I know, it sounds weird,” she says.
“Not at all,” Cooper answers. “I’m Cooper, by the way.”
“You’re Cooper!” Neesha exclaims. He turns questioningly toward me. “Luci told me all about you. I’m Neesha.”
Why would Luci tell Neesha about Cooper?
“Don’t believe anything Luci says,” Cooper answers.
Sweat is dripping off him onto the driveway. “Do you want to come in for some water?”
“No time,” he says. “Got some people waiting for me at home.” Miss Minivan and her kids. They’re probably going on a picnic.
He waves and takes off down the hill. Neesha and I watch until he disappears from our view. “I think Ajee would like him for you,” she says. “Even if his name isn’t Ethan.”
Chapter 30
Neesha’s wandering around my apartment collecting her belongings: a jacket over the back of the kitchen chair, shoes by the couch, a book in the bedroom, shampoo in the shower, lipstick by the mirror. We were supposed to have left for the airport twenty minutes ago.
“I think I’ve got it all now.” She fastens her suitcase and wheels it to the front door.
I scan the living room looking for anything she might be leaving behind. The only item that’s not mine is the urn. Neesha plans to come back during the summer with Ashley and the kids to spread the ashes. Until then, Ajee’s staying with me.
Once in the car, I can tell Neesha wants to say something important by the way she’s studying my profile. Every time I turn to look at her, she quickly looks away. “Gina,” she finally says. “I think Ajee got the third predictions wrong for both of us. Ashley can’t leave his job, and I’m not sure about Ethan for you.”
“Ajee never got it wrong.” I put on my blinker and turn right onto the entry ramp for the Mass Pike.
Neesha turns the radio up. “This is Jayda’s favorite song,” she says, and she sings along to “Call Me Maybe.” When the song ends, she turns the radio off. “Jayda,” she says. “Ajee told me I was having a boy.”
I glance over at Neesha. I can tell by the way she’s pulling on the seat belt by her shoulder that there is more to this story. “Did she specifically say Jayda would be a boy or that you would have a boy someday?”
Neesha laughs. “You sound like Ajee now.” She changes her voice to imitate Ajee’s. “Ah, dear one, I only said that you would have a boy, I did not say that this baby would be the boy.” She goes back to her normal voice. “But we all knew she was talking about Jayda.”
“Was she, though, because soon after you had AJ.” I step on the gas to put some room between me and a green Civic that is riding my bumper. “Why can’t he just go to the left lane and pass me?”
Neesha turns to look at the car behind us, which has already closed any space I put between us. She points to the lane on the left. Instead, he turns into the right lane and gives Neesha the finger as he accelerates by.
We both laugh. “I bet that doesn’t happen in Texas.”
“It does, but usually it’s me giving the finger.”
In the airport I pull up to the curb as close to the terminal entrance as I can get. Neesha unfastens her seat belt and leans over to hug me. “It was so great to reconnect, Gina.” A bus nearly sideswipes my car as it pulls in to drop off passengers; its exhaust chokes me as it idles in front of us. I pull away from Neesha to cough, and she gets out of the car. I pop the trunk.
When I am on the sidewalk with her, she takes my hand. “I know you’ve been waiting for Ethan, but I don’t think you should rule out Cooper. Ajee might have been wrong.”
“What did Luci say?”
Neesha squeezes my hand. “She didn’t have to say anything. I saw the way he looked at you. I heard the lilt in your voice when you were talking to him.”
“Lilt in my voice?”
A police officer approaches, pointing to my car. “Move it.”
I hold up my index finger, indicating he should wait a minute. Neesha hugs me.
The police officer taps me on my back. “Time’s up,” he says.
I arrive at work at ten forty to find Peter sitting in my seat, which he has rolled over right next to Luci’s. She’s leaning back, laughing at something he just said. Their arms are touching, and Luci moves away from him when she sees me.
Peter gets up and pushes my chair back behind my desk. He blows Luci a kiss as he walks out. “What was that all about?”
“He’s trying to convince me to come to karaoke on Friday night.” She’s chewing gum and blows a bubble. “Cooper and Jamie were looking for you.”
I start my computer. Sure enough, I have a message from both of them. Jamie’s e-mail instructs me to finish Gail Germain’s report today while Cooper asks me to get his report back to him by five o’clock.
“How was the rest of your visit with Neesha?” Luci asks. “Did she like me?”
“What did you tell her about Cooper?”
“I just said it’s a shame his name isn’t Ethan.”
Ethan and Brady are waiting on my steps when I get home from work that night. Brady leaps up on me, and Ethan grabs him by the collar. “He missed you,” he says. I squat to pet the dog. Ethan places his hand on my shoulder. “I missed you, too.”
I stand again. “Why didn’t you call?”
He shrugs. “Leah called. I had to pick up Brady.”
“I thought she was supposed to have him until next week.”
Ethan hunches his back and stares at the ground. “Apparently that prick she’s dating doesn’t like dogs. She’s giving me full custody.”
I stop to consider this. A few weeks ago she was ready to cement the dog’s paws in place so she could hold on to him, and now she’s just handing him over. I guess she’s serious about this guy. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
Ethan takes a deep breath and lifts his head but doesn’t answer.
“I told her about your friend’s grandmother’s prediction.”
Luci would say he told her to make her jealous. To show her that he’s moved on, too. I sit down next to him and pet Brady. “What did she say?”
“Not much.” He sighs. “She wondered if you were only dating me because of my name.” He stares into my eyes.
“Of course not,” I blurt out, but as soon as the words are spoken, I wonder if they’re true.
“Why are you dating me? What can I offer you?”
I touch his leg. “No one has ever affected me like you do.”
“Great,” he says. “You’re in lust.”
I shake my head. “That’s not it, or all of it. I feel safe and loved when I’m with you. You make me feel wanted.”
He strokes my face. “Who wouldn’t want you?”
I turn to face him and slide onto his lap. We kiss on the stairs under the spotlight. “I do want to marry you,” he says. “I just need time.” I’m not thrilled by the idea of having to wait longer, but his statement makes me feel better than I felt on Friday night. “Can you wait?” he asks.
“Ajee told me I’d have to be patient.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, and his kisses become deeper. We stay tangled up on the stairs as the sound of cars passing on the street and car doors slamming drifts into the backyard. Finally Ethan stands. One hand grabs Brady by the collar; the other takes mine. It’s going to turn out just as Ajee predicted, I think as he leads me to my bed.
Later I cook dinner while he watches SportsCenter in the living room. The urn with Ajee’s ashes sits on the coffee table just a few inches away. I wonder if seeing me and Ethan content like this would make her happy. Of course it would. Ethan yawns and stretches. He lifts his feet up on the table, and they brush against the urn, knocking it to the floor. He stands to retrieve it, but trips over Brady, banging his face against the coffee table.
&n
bsp; Brady stands and barks as I rush into the room. “Are you okay?”
“It hurts.” He covers the side of his face with his hand.
“Let me see.”
He lowers his hand revealing his cheek. There’s a small circular red mark with a deep scratch running diagonally through it. I can’t stop staring at it because it looks exactly like the symbol for “no.”
Chapter 31
The elevator stops on the second floor. Jamie boards. He’s carrying a stack of folders and eyes Luci’s and my empty hands. “Are you two prepared for this meeting?”
Luci points to her head. “We have it all in here. Don’t you worry.”
“I am worried,” Jamie says. “They’re thinking of outsourcing editing to India.”
Luci and I laugh. “I’m pretty sure editing can’t be outsourced to India,” she says.
Cooper and I still have not come up with a way to speed up the editing process. The other executives are losing their patience, so Cooper called today’s meeting to solicit ideas from Jamie and Luci.
The elevator reaches the fourth floor. The doors slide open. We follow Jamie down the hall into Cooper’s office. He’s sitting at the round table in the corner of the room studying a piece of paper with a half-eaten sandwich in front of him. He looks up and smiles, the two-dimple version that transforms his face. I’m so mesmerized by it that I walk into the bookshelf that’s next to the door. I hit it so hard that the framed picture of Cooper with the beautiful dark-haired woman falls to the ground. Cooper leaps from his chair and rushes to my side. “Are you okay?” He puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me away from the door. I look up at him. He has that squinty look. I swear it takes my breath away. I notice a smear of peanut butter by the corner of his mouth, and I instinctively reach up to wipe it away. When I touch him, his grip on my shoulder tightens, and he lets out a small gasp as he exhales.
“Catherine Zeta-Jones,” Luci says. She’s holding the picture that fell to the ground. Cooper and I immediately step away from each other. “How did you meet her?” Luci asks as she places the photo back on the shelf and takes the last chair at the table.
