Happy Birthday: A Novel

Chapter 12

Valerie had lunch with April right after the New Year. She had sent a bottle of Cristal and a note to Jack to thank him the next day. The note said, “Best New Year ever! Thank you! Valerie,” and she told April about it over lunch. They both agreed that he was a genuinely nice guy, in spite of the showy twelve-year-olds he went out with, as April put it. Most of them looked like gold-diggers when he brought them to the restaurant, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Valerie told her he’d invited her to come to the Super Bowl, and April was stunned to hear that she was going.

“But you hate sports, Mom, and you know less about football than I do, and that’s not much.”

“You’re right. But he said something on New Year’s Eve that I think is true, about staying open to life, doing new things, meeting new people, opening new doors. I think that’s the antidote to getting old and shriveling up. I may hate it, but I might have fun. Why not try it? He invited me as a friend, not a date, with my own room. Why not do something different for a change? I don’t want to get stuck in a rut.” Her daughter was impressed by her attitude, and Valerie herself had noticed that since surviving the terrorist attack on the network, she had been more open to everything, and more grateful for her life. She could easily have been killed like some of the others, and instead she had gotten another shot at life. As terrifying as it had been, it had freed her in some important ways. The little aggravations seemed less important, and everything seemed like a gift, especially a new friend like Jack, and a chance to go to the Super Bowl with a retired football star. Why not? Maybe that’s what getting older was all about, she said to April. Maybe it was about “Why not?” Even April was taking a huge chance, being willing to have and embrace a baby she hadn’t planned. Life was about living, Valerie realized now, not huddling in a corner, too frightened to move or try anything new, or too tired and disenchanted to bother. April’s had been an enormous decision, and although she worried about her, Valerie admired her for what she had decided to do. Even if she didn’t want to be a grandmother. That she was not ready for, and wasn’t embarrassed to say so to her daughter.

“The baby will have to call me Aunt Valerie or Mrs. Wyatt,” she said to April as they both laughed. “If it calls me Grandma, I’m going to deny it immediately, and act like I don’t know either of you. I’m not ready to be anyone’s grandmother yet! My vanity won’t allow it.” She was more than willing to admit it, and still looked faintly outraged about it. “How’s it going, by the way? How do you feel?” April looked well, but her mother could see sadness in her eyes. She was afraid that this was harder than April had thought. Having a baby alone was far from easy, and being pregnant without the baby’s father was sad, or at least Valerie thought so anyway, although people did it more and more these days. But it had been such a sweet time for her and Pat, waiting for April to arrive. She was sad that her own daughter didn’t have the benefit of that experience and a man to love and care for her. Instead, she was working as hard as ever, at the fish market by five every morning, meeting with commercial fishermen, and fighting with wholesale butchers for better prices, working a twenty-hour day with no one to love her or rub her back. It seemed like a hard road to her mother.

“I felt the baby move a few days ago. It felt so sweet, like a butterfly. I thought it was gas or indigestion at first, and then I realized what I was feeling. It’s happening a lot now.” She looked deeply moved but still sad. Her mother knew her well.

“How’s Mike? Have you seen him?” Valerie hoped so. She liked him. And maybe something could work out between them, despite an inauspicious start. Stranger things had happened. But April shook her head.

“No, I haven’t. He disappeared. I did something stupid, I guess. We had a nice evening over Chinese dinner, and I invited him to the doctor’s visit, to see the baby on a sonogram. And he freaked. He walked out, and texted me after that he just can’t. I guess he had a pretty awful childhood, and doesn’t want to be part of anyone else’s. He broke up with a girlfriend a few months ago, because she wanted to get married and have children. I guess he’s one of those damaged people who is never going to be able to commit to anyone.” She saw that now, and Valerie looked annoyed.

“That’s all very nice to cry about your childhood. But this baby exists now, and so do you. You didn’t ask for it either, and you thought you were being careful. It’s not like you threw caution to the winds. It happened to both of you. He can’t just walk away from it because it makes him uncomfortable. So what? How comfortable are you? Not very, I would guess. You’re running a business and pregnant all alone with a baby you didn’t want. I think he owes you more than just running away and hiding. That’s a little too easy. I thought he was better than that.” She sounded disappointed, and although she didn’t say it, so was April. For a crazy minute, when he had agreed to go to the doctor with her, she had hoped he would get involved. But that was obviously not going to happen. She hadn’t heard a word from him since he walked out of the doctor’s office and sent her the text. And she wasn’t going to call him and try to force the baby or herself on him. She knew that would be a huge mistake. She had to let him go, if that was what he wanted. It was her baby now, not his.

“I decided to have it, Mom. He didn’t. It was my decision. I didn’t consult him about it. I told him. He doesn’t want this child.” April was as firm about it as he was, and realistic. No matter what she felt for him, if he didn’t feel the same things for her, or the baby, she couldn’t beat her head into a brick wall, and she wouldn’t try.

Valerie was still worried about her, when she left her after lunch. April wandered out to the kitchen, looking wistful. She enjoyed seeing her mother, but had been down ever since the last time she’d seen Mike. They’d had such a good time at dinner. It had made her hopeful about a possible relationship between them, which she realized now was impossible. She would always be the woman who had forced him to have a baby he didn’t want, and he would never forgive her for it. Their relationship had been doomed from the beginning.

Jean-Pierre the sommelier was watching her as she helped herself to an orange, and sat down at the counter to look at some bills. There had been some irregularities in their butcher bills recently, and she wanted to stay on top of it and make sure they hadn’t been cheated. She had already spotted a charge for a leg of lamb they’d never gotten, and several pork loins. She didn’t like that at all.

“Can I make you a cup of tea, April?” Jean-Pierre asked her, and she nodded, distracted by the bills she was poring through with infinite precision.

“That would be nice, thank you,” she said, and when he handed the cup to her, she looked up and smiled. It was a cup of the vanilla tea that she ordered from Paris and their customers loved. And it was decaf, which was even better.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. She had told no one about the pregnancy yet. It didn’t show as long as she kept her apron on, although she knew it would any day. And if you looked closely, there was a noticeable bump. Those who had observed it just thought she was gaining weight. Her face was rounder too. But nothing else had changed.

“I’m fine,” she answered the sommelier, and thanked him for the tea. He had added a cookie to it, which she ate.

“You work too hard, April,” he scolded gently.

“We all do,” she said honestly. “That’s what it takes to run a good restaurant. Constant attention to detail and being on deck at all times.” She did both, and she really liked the way he worked with the customers and the suggestions he made. He already had a deep respect for her ability to buy great wines at good prices. He thought she was brilliant at what she did, and he loved the atmosphere of the restaurant, and her theories about it, and passion. He thought she was a remarkable woman. And he hadn’t seen a chef he respected more, since France, and he had worked with some very good ones. He had a strong case of hero worship for her, and they were the same age. He had grown up and trained in Bordeaux, and had been in New York for five years. His English was surprisingly good, and he had married an American and gotten a green card, which was important for April. He and his wife had just gotten divorced. They had a three-year-old little boy. She had left Jean-Pierre for someone else, a waiter in another French restaurant, this one from Lyon.

“I know you’re not telling anyone,” he said softly, as April sipped her tea. “But I’ve noticed the changes lately.”

“In the restaurant?” She looked worried. She didn’t think anything had changed. That was never a good sign, when the staff saw that things were slipping before you did. She was panicked by what he said. What did he mean? Theft? Taking money from the cash box? Poor service? Sloppy food or presentation?

“I meant the changes in you.” He pointed to her belly, and she was instantly relieved. “You look sad, April,” he said boldly. “This can’t be an easy time for you.” She didn’t know what to answer him. She didn’t want to admit to it, but if she denied the pregnancy, in a few weeks he and everyone else would know it anyway.

“I guess I just have to look at it as an unexpected gift,” she said with a sigh. “Please don’t say anything to anyone yet. I didn’t think it showed. I don’t want to tell them for a while. Nothing’s going to change here, but it’ll worry them anyway. Maybe they’ll think I won’t care as much about the restaurant, but I will.” She tried to reassure him, but he looked sorry for her. He was a nice man, and a good employee, but she had no other interest in him than that. She never got personally involved with her staff, and didn’t intend to start now. And she could sense that he was personally interested in her. She didn’t welcome it from him.

“And who is going to care about you, not just the restaurant?” he said pointedly.

“I can take care of myself.” She smiled. “I always have.”

“It’s not so easy with a child, especially now.” She nodded, not sure what to say to him, and uncomfortable with the conversation. “The baby’s father?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“He’s not involved.”

“I thought so.” He had also guessed that it was Mike. He had seen the way she looked at him, and he had come to dinner with her family on Christmas Eve. He also knew that he hadn’t been back since, which wasn’t a good sign. And the sadness in her eyes said the rest. He knew she was alone, and he felt sorry for her.

“If there’s anything that I can do for you, I’d like to help you,” he said gently. “I think you’re a wonderful person, and you’re very good to everyone. We all love you.” He didn’t tell her that he did, but he could have gotten there with ease, with a little encouragement from her, which she was careful not to provide. She didn’t want to mislead Jean-Pierre. She wasn’t interested in him. And with his divorce, he was vulnerable now too, and probably lonely without his wife and child.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “I’m fine,” she reassured him, and wanted to get off the subject. She tried to make that clear to him.

“I’m here if you need me,” he said again, and then disappeared into the wine cellar. He had said enough. He had let her know that he cared about her as a person, and would be happy to as a woman, if she let him. She didn’t seem to be open to it now. He hoped she would be one day. Maybe when the baby was born. He wasn’t going anywhere, and it touched his heart to know that she was pregnant and alone. He was a good man. But April didn’t want him that way. Right now, she wanted Mike or no one. She couldn’t think about getting involved with anyone while carrying someone else’s child. That was too complicated for her. It was convoluted enough as it was, without adding someone else to the mix. She was better off alone now anyway, she told herself. She had enough on her mind.

Jack called Valerie in her office that afternoon. She sounded busy, and said she was interviewing someone and would call him back. He assumed it was for her show, but as she hung up, she was sitting across her desk from a young woman the Human Resources office had sent her as a possible assistant to replace Marilyn, and Valerie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Her name was Dawn. She had a nose ring, and a diamond stud just above her lip. Her hair was dyed jet black with a royal blue streak in it and spiked with gel, and she had colorful tattoos of cartoon characters up and down each arm. She also had tattoos of a red rose on the back of each hand. Other than that she was neatly dressed in jeans, high heels, and a short-sleeved black sweater. She sounded intelligent, had gone to Stanford, and she was twenty-five years old. She was a far cry from the beloved assistant Valerie had worked with for years.

Dawn said she had been working in London since she graduated, first at British Vogue and then at a decorating magazine, but life in England had become too expensive, so she had come back to New York. She had never worked in television before, but her mother was an interior designer in Greenwich, Connecticut, and Dawn had worked for her in the summer all through high school and college, so the world of decorating wasn’t unfamiliar to her. She had been assigned to the Home section of British Vogue, and had eventually moved to The World of Interiors. She had majored in journalism in college, and Valerie could see she was a bright girl. She tried not to focus on the way Dawn looked, although the diamond stud above her lip kept catching Valerie’s eye. She certainly didn’t look like a girl from Greenwich. But she answered everything Valerie said, directly and intelligently. By the time the interview was over, Valerie couldn’t think of a reason not to hire her, other than the way she looked, which she knew was not politically correct or a valid reason, but it made her miss Marilyn more than ever.

“I’m sorry about your assistant,” Dawn said quietly as she stood up. She had good manners, as well as being bright, and seemed very poised. Valerie would have loved her if it weren’t for the pierces, tattoos, and hair. “It must be hard for you to change after working with her for so long.”

“Yes, it is,” Valerie admitted with a sigh. “The whole thing was terrible and very sad. We lost eleven.” Dawn nodded respectfully and shook Valerie’s hand as she was preparing to leave. Her handshake told Valerie that she was confident but not forceful. She liked the fact that Dawn seemed sure of herself without being overbearing, and Valerie wondered. Maybe it didn’t matter how she looked. She was clean and neat, although her style was as far from Valerie’s as you could get.

“I don’t mind working long hours, by the way,” Dawn volunteered. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I live in the city, and I love to work. Weekends are okay too.” She was very appealing in a lot of ways. She was quick, bright, and willing, even if Valerie thought she looked weird. She wondered what April would think about her, and suspected she might like her. But April could afford to have someone who looked like that in her kitchen, a lot more easily than Valerie could, meeting guests on her show. But if Valerie liked her, which she did, maybe others would too. She was trying valiantly to be open-minded about it, and told Dawn that the Human Resources office would let her know. Valerie made no commitment to her before she left. She needed time to think about it.

Half an hour later, Valerie picked up the phone with a sigh and called HR.

“So, what did you think?” the head of HR asked her. Dawn was the first candidate Valerie had seen, but she had to admit she was a good one. And her work credentials and references were excellent.

“I think she’s smart as a whip even if she looks like a freak. I hate the pierces and the hair, and the tattoos.”

“I know. I figured you would. She’s about as opposite from Marilyn as humanly possible. But I liked her too. I figured you wouldn’t take her, but I thought I’d give it a shot. She’s everything you want, just the wrong look.” It was true. She was young and fun and dying to work. She had watched Valerie’s show before the interview and made intelligent comments about it. “Don’t worry about it, Valerie. I’ll tell her no. She knew it was a long shot too, and said it to me. Not everyone wants an assistant with cartoon characters up and down their arms, although I thought Tweety Bird and Tinker Bell were pretty cute.”

“She’ll be sorry about those when she’s fifty,” Valerie said sensibly, and then stunned the head of HR. “Hire her. I’ll take her. I like her. She’s smart. I can live with Tinker Bell and Tweety Bird. I need someone who can do the job, and I think she can. She knows nothing about weddings and entertaining, but she knows decorating. I can teach her the rest.” She had taught Marilyn everything from scratch — she had been a schoolteacher before she went to work for Valerie, and had been the best assistant Valerie had ever had till now.

“Are you serious?” the surprised head of HR asked, impressed by Valerie’s decision. It showed an openness to new ideas she didn’t know Valerie had.

“I am,” Valerie said firmly. “When can she start?”

“She said tomorrow if you want. If you don’t mind, I’d rather start her next week, so we can process her and get all the paperwork done.”

“That’s fine,” Valerie said easily.

“I think you made a good decision,” the head of HR complimented her.

“I hope so. We’ll see,” Valerie said optimistically, and she called Jack back the moment she hung up, a little shocked herself by her decision. Jack apologized for having interrupted her earlier.

“It was fine,” she reassured him, as she leaned back in her chair and sighed again, trying not to think of Marilyn and miss her as much as she did. “I was interviewing a new assistant.”

“That must be hard for you,” he said sympathetically. “They’re interviewing here for Norman’s job. We haven’t found anyone yet. It’s too depressing even thinking about it.”

“I know. I hired her,” Valerie said, and then she laughed. “She’s right out of a sci-fi movie, with pierces all over her face and blue hair. Brave New World. I figured what the hell, she’s a Stanford grad, she’s got great references, and she’s willing to work long hours and weekends. She’s got tattoos of Tweety Bird and Tinker Bell on her arms in living color and didn’t even wear long sleeves to hide them. You have to give her credit for that.”

Jack laughed at the description. He couldn’t imagine Valerie with an assistant like that. “Good for you. She might turn out to be terrific.”

“I hope so,” Valerie said, and then he invited her to see another movie at his apartment that night. It was one she had wanted to see but had missed in the theaters. She was enjoying the time they spent together, and had seen him only three days before.

“I’m off until the Super Bowl and I’m bored stiff,” he complained. He still had trouble getting around on his crutches, and he was supposed to stay off the leg, at least for a few weeks. He said he felt like a shut-in and had been watching soap operas and agony talk shows all day.

“You may be bored,” Valerie said to him, “but I’m working my ass off here. Christmas is over, but we’re already working on our Valentine show, and I start working on weddings right after the new year. We’re busy as hell.”

“Does that mean no?” He sounded disappointed. He had had a good time with her and wanted to see her again. She hesitated, and then shook her head. It was about opening those doors to a new friend, and making time. He was right.

“No, it just means that I’m whining about all the work I have to do. I just had lunch with April. She said to say hello to you,” and had commented on his ten million young girlfriends, which Valerie didn’t say to Jack. He was more than willing to admit to them himself.

“Say hello to her from me. I need to go in for some of her magic healing mashed potatoes. Maybe I should just spread them on my leg.” He never complained about the pain, which Valerie thought was brave of him, although she knew he had been used to some pretty brutal injuries during his football career.

“I can have her send you some, like she did in the hospital,” Valerie suggested.

“If I sit here, watching TV and eating mashed potatoes and mac and cheese for the next three weeks, I’m going to weigh four hundred pounds by the Super Bowl, and I won’t look so good on air. It’s driving me nuts that I can’t do any exercise, but the doctor says not yet.” He was normally a very active man, although the herniated disk two months before had slowed him down too. He worried about getting fat. “So how about dinner and a movie?”

“I’d love to. Can we make it a little bit late?” She had been planning to work at home that night, but if she stayed late enough at the office, she could get a lot done. Sometimes it was hard juggling a social life and work, and her priority was always her job. “Does eight-thirty work for you?”

“That sounds fine. I was going to suggest that anyway. I have a physical therapist coming at seven to work on the leg.”

“Perfect. Do you want me to pick something up for dinner?” she offered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll order in. I’m good at that.” He laughed. “See you later,” he signed off, sounding happy, and so was she. It was fun having a buddy to spend time with. She knew a lot of people, but they were busy too. And normally, he had a very active social life, but now that he was housebound he had more time on his hands than usual, and after what he had done for her, she was more than happy to visit him while he convalesced. It seemed like the least she could do. And she enjoyed his company.

She picked up some magazines and a book for him at a newsstand, leaving work. She didn’t have time to go home and change. And she arrived at his apartment promptly, looking slightly frazzled and a little bit out of breath. She hadn’t combed her hair or put on lipstick since noon. She hadn’t had time to think of it all day. She was wearing casual slacks and a sweater, a parka, and flat shoes, since she hadn’t been on air that day. She’d been at her desk since early morning, except for her lunch with April. It had been a full day of making decisions and plans for future shows, selecting samples, guests, and topics they wanted to cover. She always did that at this time of year, mapping out the shows. It was going to help her a lot when Dawn started the following week. Valerie just hoped she’d be as efficient as she had seemed in the interview.

Jack opened the door, perched on his crutches in sweatpants and bare feet. The nurse didn’t seem to be around. And odors of something delicious were wafting from the kitchen. He had ordered Indian food, spicy for him, and mild for her in case she preferred it.

“Something smells great,” she commented as she took off her jacket. He had music playing on the stereo, and she followed him into the kitchen as she had on New Year’s Eve. He had ordered a ton of food, and it was still warm enough to eat. So they sat down at the kitchen table quickly after she set it.

“I’m beginning to feel like I live here,” she teased him, since she knew where everything was now. And they talked about her day and what she’d done. He told her about a football scandal he’d been following all day. He was planning to do a show about it once he was back on his feet. It was a lively exchange. Then they discussed network politics, which were always complicated. There were rumors that the head of the network was leaving, which was a concern in terms of the impact it could have, but both of their situations were secure. No one was going to get rid of Valerie Wyatt, and he was the biggest sportscaster on TV. But nothing in television was ever totally sure.

There was a lot of talk too about the recent terrorist attack. It was still all over the news. Official groups all over the Middle East were in an uproar about it, and wanted no association with it. They were furious over the damage it had done to their image and worried about the impact on their relationships with the U.S. They had all expressed sympathy over the lives that had been lost. And the president and governor were trying to reassure the public that nothing like it could ever happen again, but they knew it could. No one was safe anymore. And hardest for those who had lived through it were the friends and co-workers they had lost, like Jack and Valerie with their assistants.

By the time they finished dinner, both of them were tired and relaxed. They walked up to his den, and forgot about the movie as they talked. There seemed to be a thousand topics they were interested in and had opinions on, and they watched a few minutes of Monday Night Football that he had recorded, and he explained some of the plays to her, in preparation for her trip to the Super Bowl.

“You’re still coming, right?” he asked, looking worried, and she smiled at him.

“I wouldn’t miss it. April was impressed that I’m going. I like your idea about continuing to open doors and explore new things. I told her about it at lunch.” She was tempted again to tell him about the baby, but didn’t. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit to being a grandmother yet. Maybe when she saw the baby she’d feel differently. But right now all it was to her was an assault on her vanity, a confirmation of her age, and a worry for her about April. “She’s juggling an awful lot these days,” she said cryptically to Jack, without saying more.

“She always does. She’s an incredibly competent young woman. She runs that restaurant like a Swiss clock. I suspect she learned that from you.” He smiled at Valerie. He already had a sense of how organized she was. He was a little more haphazard about how he approached things, but he got a lot done too. Except for now. He was going stir-crazy being stuck at home. He had worked hard with the therapist in the gym in his apartment. The bullet had done more damage than he thought, and the leg was still painful and very weak.

They were both surprised to discover that it was midnight by the time they stopped talking. Valerie put on her parka and bundled up. It was cold outside and had started snowing during the evening. It looked like a Christmas card, and Jack looked forlorn as she got ready to leave, although she could see that he was tired.

“I’m sorry I can’t walk you home.” He would have liked to, but there was no way he could. “Maybe you should take a cab. It’s late.” He didn’t want her to get mugged on the way home, but Valerie smiled.

“I’ll be fine. It’s nice to get some air.” And it was so pretty while it snowed, until the next day when it turned into a mess.

“Thanks for coming to see me,” he said, looking boyish. “I like hanging out with you,” he said, as he pulled her gently toward him as he leaned on his crutches. “You’re good company, Valerie,” he said, and meant it.

“So are you.” She smiled shyly, feeling different vibes from him than she had before, and she wasn’t sure what they were. Probably nothing. They just liked each other, and were both lonely and bored. And the aftermath of the attack had shaken them both up. Valerie still got anxious every day when she went to work and walked into the building. And although Jack had gone to April’s restaurant with her once, he seemed to prefer staying home in his cocoon where he felt safe, and didn’t feel ready to go out again. It had affected both of them more than they’d realized at first, but they’d been warned that that could happen, and more than likely would. There was no way to survive something as traumatizing as that without aftershocks. They’d been told to expect to experience aftereffects of the trauma for as much as a year.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” he asked, still holding on to her jacket, as though trying to keep her from running away. She laughed at his question, and was touched by the look in his eyes.

“You’re going to get tired of me if I come every day, silly,” she teased him.

“We didn’t watch the movie. We could watch it tomorrow night.” He sounded needy suddenly, which seemed unlike him, and she was sure it was a result of what he’d been through, and a sign of post-traumatic stress.

“I have to go to a network dinner tomorrow night,” she said with regret, and he looked startled.

“I was supposed to go to that too. I guess I can’t, or shouldn’t. I hate those things anyway.”

“So do I, but they’re command performances. And I have no excuse. I didn’t get shot in the leg. You’re off the hook.”

“I’ll call you,” he said, and they kissed each other on the cheek and she left.

She was walking down Fifth Avenue in the falling snow, thinking about him, and her cell phone rang. She thought it might be April, who often called her late when she closed. But it was Jack.

“Hi,” she said, as the snow fell on her head and wet her face. It felt great. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I was just thinking about you and wanted to say hello. How’s the snow?”

“Gorgeous,” she said, grinning. She hadn’t had a call like that from a man in years, for no reason at all. “You’ll be out in it again in no time.” She knew how restless and bored he was.

“Valerie, I really like you,” he said suddenly. “I love talking to you, and spending time with you.” And then he added, “And you’re a great cook.” She laughed.

“So are you.” They were living on takeout food, which wasn’t unfamiliar to her. “I have a good time with you too,” she said, as she stood at a corner, waiting for the light to change. She was halfway between his place and her own, with Central Park glistening white across the street, blanketed by the snow that had been falling that night.

“What if something happens between us?”

“Like what?” she said, looking vague as the light changed. There was no traffic on the street.

“Like boy-girl stuff. You know.” He sounded cute and young as he said it, and she smiled.

“That sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it? I’m old enough to be the mother of the girls you go out with.” Or worse, the grandmother. She didn’t say it. But the thought was like a punch in her stomach. He went out with women forty years younger than she was.

“What difference does that make? Falling in love isn’t about age. It’s about people. And those girls aren’t appropriate for me either. They’re just a hobby, or they were. Because I had nothing else to do with my time. You’re the Super Bowl, baby,” he said, and she burst out laughing. “They’re just practice in the backyard.”

“I’ve never been called that before.” But she knew that it was a compliment coming from him. “I don’t know, Jack. I thought we were friends. It would be a shame to screw that up.”

“What if we didn’t? What if it was right for both of us?”

“Then it would be a good thing, I guess.” But it was too soon for either of them to know that yet. And she didn’t want to be just a fling to him, between shifts of his young girls.

“Why don’t we keep it in mind?” he said softly, and she didn’t answer for a minute, not sure what to say. “How does that sound to you?” He wanted an answer from her, and she didn’t know which one to give. She wasn’t sure.

“It sounds interesting,” she said cautiously.

“Possible?”

“Maybe.” She wouldn’t rule it out, but she thought that in theory he was too young, and she too old, although there was only a ten-year difference in their ages. But it seemed like a lot to her, particularly given his history and lifestyle.

“That’s all I wanted to know,” he said, sounding happy. And then she thought of something.

“Are you involved with anyone now?”

“No. Are you?” He was pretty sure she wasn’t from all she’d said. But it never hurt to ask. Sometimes old lovers were lingering in closets, and still dropped by for sex from time to time. That was always good to know.

“No, I’m not.”

“Good. Then we’re both free. Let’s just see where it goes.” But she liked where it was. It was so comfortable being friends with him that she hated to turn it into a dating or seduction game, playing cat and mouse. She loved the friendship they were just beginning to share.

“I like being your friend,” she said softly.

“Me too. That’ll work for now. Where are you anyway?”

“I just got to my place,” she said, slightly out of breath from the cold. “I’m outside.”

“Well, go on in. Don’t catch cold. I’ll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

“You too.”

They hung up and she walked into the building, thinking about him. She didn’t want to do anything foolish or that she’d regret. But she liked him, a lot. And then she remembered his theory about being brave enough to open new doors. She had no idea if they’d ever open this one, or even if she wanted to. But at least it was nice to know, she reminded herself as she went up in the elevator, that the door was there, whether you opened it or not.