Page 2 of Grounded

Font Size:

She reached for the envelope from Kentucky.

Dear Annie,

We sure do miss you around here. Your short visit at Christmas was not enough. Do try to come this spring and stay awhile. We look forward to a wet spring, which we need after last year’s dry summer.

There is a new single preacher in town. Evelyn met him in the meat section of the Kroger and invited him to eat lunch with us on the Sundays he doesn’t have an invitation from his congregation. Mary Beth White’s divorce is final and she’s been taking lunch with us on Sundays. She was so pitiful after her husband ran off and left her with those two young children. Evelyn thinks she and the new preacher might be a match, but I don’t know if his church will let their preacher marry a divorced woman.

I’m thinking about painting the house, but the Millers moved out of the stone house and I hate to take on a new expense with less money coming in. Maybe if I can find a good renter, I’II do it.

Jake was promoted again by that big bank up in Cincinatti and Evelyn says he’s getting right serious with a girl from up there.

Joe and Betty Gibson have a new grandbaby. It’s a little girl called Frances Grace. You know people are going for the old-fashioned names nowadays, but I’ve yet to hear of someone naming their child Beulah.

Love, Grandma

P.S. Don’t forget we have a new area code now. We got new addresses five years ago for the EMS. Why they can’t leave well enough alone, I don’t know.

Annie hadn’t been home in four months. Even then it had been a quick visit, squeezing in a ski trip with Stuart on the back end of the holidays. Maybe she would plan a trip this summer and bring Stuart. Annie smiled at the thought of him in his Armani suit and alligator shoes on the farm. Maybe she would buy him a pair of Red Wings for his birthday.

Annie let herself into Stuart’s apartment with the key he had given her. His place on the Upper East Side was spacious and neat compared to her cramped quarters in the village. Chester, the orange tabby a client had given Stuart, pranced, tail swishing in greeting. The cat’s soulful green eyes beckoned the usual scratch behind his ear.

“Hey, Ches, did you miss me?” The soft fur felt good on her hand and she lingered, giving him an extra rub down his back.

Annie straightened and put her purse on the low-slung black leather couch. Behind the couch, paintings with geometric patterns in reds, oranges and blacks by the same artist hung three in a row. Metal end tables next to the leather couch and chairs held black lacquer lamps, and, central to any bachelor’s apartment, suspended against the far wall was the latest technology in flatscreen televisions.

The only thing that looked out of place to her was the wilting peace lily in the corner of the room. It had been her subtle attempt to soften the room and make it more “homey” but it continually suffered from neglect since its arrival two months before. Stuart had seemed happy with her gift, but clearly plants weren’t his thing.

In the kitchen, Annie looked around while she filled a container with water. Not one thing was out of place. Stuart was compulsively neat and his cleaning lady came three days a week. Just once, Annie would like to find something awry, like a dirty glass or plate, even a pair of socks on the floor.

After watering the peace lily, Annie wandered into Stuart’s bedroom. A stack of sales books were on the bedside table, aWall Street Journalwas folded neatly next to them, and there was his perfectly made bed.

“Chester,” she called to the cat. “Does he ever mess up anything?” Chester came to her in the bedroom and looked as if she were telling him something important, his head tilted slightly to the side, his ears pointed forward.

There was a time when he did look a mess, she remembered: the night they met, more than six months ago. Her best friend, Janice DeVechio, had invited Annie to a charity fundraiser for cancer research. She had tickets given to her by an aunt who had married a wealthy Sicilian. Janice firmly believed her new uncle had mob connections, but it never stopped her from accepting the generous offer of tickets to plays, events and shows frequently doled out by the aunt to her favorite niece.

“It’s costume, but don’t worry. I know what you can wear.”

Annie had rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“Jimmy is going as Hansel, I’m Gretel, and you’ll be Little Red Riding Hood. You look great in red.”

Annie had gone to the party in red tights, a red cape found at a consignment store, and carrying a small basket. Janice and Jimmy danced to Bobby Darin and Annie stood at the hors d’oeuvres table debating how long she would need to stay.

She had decided to get some fresh air on the terrace when a man said, “Not so fast, Little Red Riding Hood.” Annie turned to face a wolfman grinning at her, rows of straight white teeth peeking from under pieces of brown fur taped to his face and intense green eyes peering between strands of a long brown wig. She burst out laughing as a piece of fur dropped onto a plate of crackers.

“That is the worst costume I have ever seen,” she said.

“This is the worst party I’ve ever seen. I had to come for business. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m with a friend,” she said.

“That’s too bad,” he said, and looked disappointed.

“Not a date—a couple. They’re out there dancing.”Who is this man?She had been immediately intrigued.

“Aha. The story is getting better all the time,” he said, grinning.

“I don’t know why I’m here. Bad social life I guess.”