Page 45 of London
She was still smiling when she put the phone down, imagining Mrs. Adams’ rosy glow. The woman appreciated these small gestures. Linda assumed no one else cared enough to make them.
She turned to Gerard. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Unfortunately their flight to Romania was at eight in the morning, which meant they would have to wake up at five to beat the traffic and reach Heathrow in time.
“Yuck! That’ so early, but at least the flight back is at five pm,” she muttered. “I can take a Xanax and sleep all the way home.”
Gerard patted her thigh then stood. “You’ll enjoy this trip more than you think, you’ll see. Jean-Paul tells me Mariana is an exceptional cook.”
“Wonderful. I’ll come back fat and tired.” She pouted a moment, then started laughing. “Come on, we’ve done enough procrastinating. Let’s take care of your place.”
Linda dressed in jeans and a tank top, then climbed into Gerard’s car for the drive back into the city. It was hot and muggy, but the cloudy sky offered hope for a late day storm to cool the air.
“I noticedMamangave you her necklace,” Gerard said, stopping for a red light. “It’s her greatest treasure, so old it’s almost an antique. She inherited it from her mother. If she gave it to you it must mean that she likes you very much.”
Linda brushed the tips of her fingers over the smooth pearl. Even in this heat, the silver and the precious stone were cool against her skin.
“I was embarrassed,” she confessed. “I can’t believe she gave me anything that important to her. I’m practically a stranger. But you’re wrong. You’re her biggest treasure.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Besides Aunt Cecile, I’m all she has left in the world. They both love me, and I love them.”
“I can see you’re used to being adored and admired by women,” she teased.
He shrugged, not bothering to feign modesty or hide his wide grin. “It’s a French thing.”
“I’ll bet.”
It was quiet in Gerard’s building. The door unlocked easily, which meant the thief had done an expert job of picking the lock. Regardless, they’d bought a new one which Gerard claimed he could install himself.
The inside looked just as bad in daylight, maybe even worse than it had earlier. Linda knew she had to keep it together for him.
“Listen, while you change the lock, I’ll start sorting things out,” she said, securing the messy bun on the top of her head. “I’ll start with the clothes. You have a washing machine, right?”
“Yeah, in the bathroom.”
“Okay. We’ll wash all your clothes, and drop off what we have to at the dry cleaners later. I’ll start with the sheets and towels.”
“Thank you.” Gerard still looked lost, his good mood dissipated by the mess.
Grateful she’d thought of splitting the cleaning into specific tasks, Linda reached for his hand.
“No need to thank me,” she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Now, go find your tools. Are you sure you know how to do this?” She smiled despite her doubtful tone.
“I know how to do many household chores. I had to learn after my dad died. How selfish of me and humiliating for her would it have been to expect my mother to change a light bulb or fix a broken faucet?”
“Hey, I can change a light bulb, lots of women can,” she said primly. “But I’ll call a plumber if I have a broken faucet. Now, let’s do this.”
Gerard fed the fish, and then they both got to work.
Going through his things felt odd to Linda. On the one hand, she was furious with the burglar who’d desecrated his home and stolen from him. On the other, combing through a man’s possessions said a lot about him as a person.
From what she could see, Gerard didn’t put much importance on worldly goods. He didn’t own a lot of clothes. There were shirts, jeans, a few t-shirts, a couple of jackets, and dress pants. Her cheeks reddened when she piled his black boxers and black socks. Sticking to one color probably made it easier to dress, especially if he was in a hurry.
Taupe sheets dangled from the mattress. She struggled to remove them without tearing them. After collecting the spare set, she carried them into the bathroom for washing. Once she programmed the machine, she wiped imaginary dust from her hands. One task down, a million more to do. In the background, she heard hammering, drilling, and cursing in French. Snorting her laughter, she returned to the bedroom to pick up the small stuff and return it to the nightstands and dresser drawers where it belonged—at least she hoped it did.
Several hours later, the apartment began to take shape as a place where a person might actually live. Slumped on the couch, eating take-out pizza, Linda and Gerard took turns quenching their thirst from the large bottle of cola.
“I still need to vacuum and finish dusting, and there are a couple loads of laundry left, but we’re on the right track,” Linda said, her mouth full of peperoni and cheese.
