Nine Lives(25)

“Sure,” Jack said.

Once they were settled in the solarium/sunroom, Jack with another cup of coffee he didn’t want, Margaret said, “I heard a rumor you used to live here.”

“Oh, yeah? Who did you hear that from?”

“A fellow librarian, actually. At the branch just down the street where I work. She told me you used to live here, but before her time. She also said that you wrote a famous book.”

“She’s one for two. I did used to live here, but I hardly think my book was famous. Maybe it was for about a year and a half, right after it came out.”

“What kind of book was it?”

“It was called Say It Out Loud, Then Do It Out Loud. It was—it is—a business book about always announcing your plans before you do them. I know what you’re thinking—How do you write a whole book about that?—and I can barely remember how I did it. Wide margins, I guess. But it made me a lot of money once upon a time. And it turned me into a full-time consultant. I still occasionally do seminars all over the world.”

“It rings a bell. My father probably bought it.”

“Was your father a business man?”

“Yes. In the insurance business.”

“Then he may well have bought my book.”

Margaret had put out a platter with a few slices of coffee cake on it, and Jack took one and had a bite. It was very good. She looked expectantly at him, and he told her how much he liked it, and she confirmed his guess that it was homemade. While she talked with him about baking, and how it was her true love, he studied her. She had small features, a slightly pointed chin, and the skin on her cheeks was darker than the rest of her face, as though she’d had bad acne as a teenager. She was skinny, and sat slightly hunched forward, the same bad posture that Jack saw on so many young people. Her best feature was her long brown hair. It had that lustrous look that comes from a healthy diet, or maybe just plain genetics.

“So is it true you used to live here, in this neighborhood, I mean, when you were a kid?” she said, pushing her hair back off her forehead, and sitting up a little straighter.

“I grew up here. Right next door, same house I just bought. My father, like yours, worked in insurance.”

“Wow. How long did you live here?”

“Until I went to college. Then my parents got divorced, and the house was sold. But except for vacation homes this was where I spent my childhood.”

“You must have happy memories,” she said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve bought the house and moved back into it. Unless you plan on burning it down or something, I just figured …”

“No, you’re right. It was mostly a happy childhood. And I love this neighborhood with all the brick houses.”

“It must have changed.”

“No, not at all. The city’s changed, but this street is pretty much exactly how I remember it. It was where I started my life, so I suppose it’s as good a place as any to finish it.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Margaret said, shifting forward, lowering her shoulders. “You don’t even look like you’re retired.”

“I’m semi-retired, I guess. But I don’t know … it feels, to me, that moving back here isn’t temporary. It’s final. I want to stop working completely, and my marriage is kaput. No, it’s okay. One of those separations that is definitely best for everyone involved. And all this was happening, and then I went online and saw that this house was for sale. It was kismet. And now I’m ready for the next part of my life. How did you end up here?”

Margaret told him how she’d gone to college in Hartford, and gotten married right afterward, and even though they’d dreamed of moving to New York City, her husband Eric was offered a job at a local finance company, and she’d gotten a library degree, and was now working part-time at the nearest branch. They’d bought the house just a few months earlier.

“So, you’re new here, too.”

“Relatively. We’d been renting a place just a few blocks away. It was an in-law apartment at my husband’s best friend’s house, so we know the area. But, yes, we are new to this street, and you are pretty much the first neighbor I’ve had over for coffee.”

“Well, I’m honored.”

“And I’d love to have you over for dinner sometime. Maybe even grill out before the evenings get too cold.”

“I’d like that,” Jack said, assuming she was just being polite. He was also assuming that her mentioning a second social event meant this one was over. He stood up. “I have some work to do this morning,” he said.

“Oh, okay.” She stood, as well, and Jack saw an expression—anxiety, maybe, or possibly fear—cross her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was keeping you …”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. It was lovely meeting you, but I do have a few things to do this morning, and if I stay here any longer, I’ll eat all of that coffee cake.”

Back in his own kitchen, Jack stood a little back from the window and watched as his nervous neighbor tidied up the room he’d just departed. He doubted she would make good on her offer of an invite for dinner, which was just as well. He had suspicions he wouldn’t like her husband.