Wishing for Wonderful (Serendipity #3)(6)
“Sure. That guy was no gentleman.”
I could see the wheels turning in Lindsay’s head. She’d looked at eyes, muscles, even the swagger of bravado, but not once had she searched for a lover who was a gentleman.
“How can you tell he wasn’t?” she asked Walker.
“People don’t notice me standing here, but I see things.”
“What things?”
Walker said how he’d seen Phillip walk through the door first and let it swing shut on Lindsay, how he’d let her struggle with packages and not offered to help, and how he’d openly flirted with the girl in 9A. Walker was a man who knew heartache close up. He’d experienced it in his own family. That’s why he never mentioned he’d also seen Phillip in Washington Square Park fondling a woman who was old enough to be his mother.
Lindsay listened as he told her about his daughter.
“My Emily got mixed up with the wrong man,” Walker said, “and she’s had a real hard life. That no-good walked off and left her with two little girls to raise and no money to pay the rent or buy a bag of groceries.”
“How awful,” Lindsay said.
“It was awful alright, but by then the deed was done. She couldn’t do a thing about it.”
The tale of a girl far worse off than herself caught Lindsay by the throat.
“What happened to Emily and her daughters?” she asked fearfully.
“Three years later Emily met a fine church-going man and married him,” Walker said. “That man took care of those girls like they was his own.”
“Thank goodness.”
“Amen to that,” Walker said. “Most important thing about any man is his principles. A man with no principles ain’t worth the shoes he wears on his feet.”
Lindsay nodded, although she was clueless as to how one could identify principles.
“Phillip was a no-good,” Walker continued. “I knew it right off. I would’ve said something, but it ain’t my place to be sticking my nose into other people’s business.”
“Oh, Walker,” Lindsay said, “I wish you had.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “and I wish somebody would’ve told Emily too.”
Knowing Lindsay’s state of mind you might think she’d be pulled into a deeper depression by this news of Phillip’s behavior, but for the first time in many months she began to think a bit more like her mother. She could suddenly see that maybe, just maybe, Phillip had been one of a kind. A single bad apple. One bad apple didn’t make the whole barrel bad, she reasoned. Maybe there was a chance that someone…somewhere…
She and Walker continued talking for nearly an hour, and when she got to her apartment she set the books aside and turned on her computer.
Lindsay had thirty-seven unanswered e-mails, nine of them from her father. She opened the most recent one and read it. He expressed concern that he hadn’t heard from her, he’d been hoping she’d come home for a visit, they needed to talk.
She reread the e-mail and added thoughts that were nowhere on the page. The words “miss you” made her picture her father a lonely old man, someone reaching out for love and companionship. “Come home” was a plea of desperation. “Needed to talk” most likely meant he was ready to give up on life. The image of her father’s sorrow outweighed her own, so Lindsay clicked Reply.
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Hi Dad,
Sorry I’ve been so bad about writing. I’ve been kind of down because of what happened with Phillip, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’re going through. Tonight I had a long talk with Walker, our doorman, and I’m beginning to think I did the right thing after all.
I understand how lonely you are and how much you miss Mom. I miss her too, more than you can imagine. But at least we’ve still got each other, and I promise to spend more time with you so try to cheer up. I’m going to take the first week of September off and come home for a visit. It’ll be such fun, just you and me, like the good old days. How about having a Labor Day cookout? Do you have a recipe for those baked beans Mom used to make?
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Lindsay clicked Send then opened the notice of a Lord and Taylor sale that ended a week ago, responded to an Amazon survey and half-heartedly replied to Amanda’s note that went on at length about her new boyfriend. Before she finished going through the remainder of unanswered mail, the answer from her dad popped up.
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Great. Love to have you home for a while. Sorry, I don’t have the recipe for your mom’s beans, but I have a friend who can help us figure it out.
Lindsay, your mom is someone neither of us will ever forget, but time has a way of healing the hurt of such a loss. I’ve learned to move on and make the most of life. I hope you have also. We’ll talk when I see you. Looking forward to your visit.
Glad to hear you’ve become friends with Walker. Trust what he says, he’s a good man. I’ve spoken with him many times.
Love, Dad
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