“That’s too bad,” I said. “Regardless, thank you for your help and good luck with the paper.”
“Thanks, Steven. It was really nice to see you again.”
“You too,” I said as I exited the building and walked out into the cold.
With only an hour before my big date, I decided to head back to the motor inn and get ready. Thinking of Mrs. Chambers as I drove away from the paper, it felt good to see yet another old familiar face. I wondered how many more I would see before this file was done. I hoped plenty. When I’d left town, I did so without saying a word to any of my friends from school. Given the opportunity, I had decided to make amends with all of them if the chance arose. But my first priority was to keep my appointment with a new friend, the lovely librarian.
I pressed Linda’s apartment entry code and was immediately buzzed in. The building was fairly new and located next to the high school. At three stories high with ten units per floor, it was a nice addition to the south end of town. I then walked up the three flights of stairs and was met by my hostess at her door.
“I now know why you’re in such good shape,” I said with a smile, trying to hide the pathetic fact I was a bit winded.
“There you go with that city boy charm again,” Linda replied, matching my grin tooth for tooth. “Welcome to my modest little dwelling I call home.”
As I stepped past her an intoxicating mixture of her perfume and the aroma of a pasta dish from the kitchen sensually assaulted my senses.
“This is for you,” I said, handing her the chilled bottle of wine I’d brought. As she took it from my hand our fingers touched ever so briefly, and it was as if a current of electricity passed through our systems.
I had recently read an article that stated love - or the attraction to another person - was caused by a chemical reaction in the brain. If that were in fact true, I had the feeling tonight’s date could turn into a very interesting science experiment.
Linda gave me the grand tour of her two bedroom apartment, which she’d decorated in a laid back, pastel tinted Santa Fe style. Painted cactuses on the walls, real ones in the corners of the living room. Light blues, greens, and pinks accented every pillow, painting, and throw rug in sight. And as the piece de resistance, there was a two hundred gallon tank stocked with the most beautiful salt water fish this side of the Great Barrier Reef.
I realized just how mature and attractive Linda was as I watched her make her way to the stereo. In the library she seemed innocent and fresh-faced - still eager to learn all about life. But in this setting - this world she’d created - she was in complete control.
As The Eagles began to play their Californian rock through the speakers, Linda turned and caught me staring at her. “I get that look a lot, Mr. Cassidy,” she said, holding my gaze. “But usually it’s from boys going through puberty. You’re not a late bloomer, are you?”
“Only in the manner’s department,” I apologized. “What I mean is I should have told you how beautiful you look tonight when you greeted me at the door.”
“So let me get this straight. When I just caught you staring at my butt, you were trying to telepathically compliment me on my looks, is that right?”
Suddenly the only scientific demonstration I could recall was from Grade 11 when Mr. Basker combined water and oil. It was not a harmonious union.
Before I could offer another feeble excuse for my actions, Linda surprised me yet again.
“Turn and face that wall,” she commanded and I quickly complied. “Now shake it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shake your tush for me,” came the response.
“Is this my punishment or simply for your amusement?”
“I’ll tell you after dinner,” she said. “Now go on.”
Like a two year old asked to dance for visiting relatives, I closed my eyes in humiliating disbelief and began to move my hips from left to right. Linda let out a whoop and started to clap her hands, mocking my performance.
“Would you prefer The Village People to The Eagles?” she asked with a laugh.
“Are we almost through here?” I kiddingly protested.
I still have no idea how she does it, but like the two occasions in the library, Linda was unexpectedly very close to me.
“We haven’t even started yet,” she said in a low whisper. She then placed her hands on my hips, which resulted in another wave of pleasure bolting up my spine. “You can stop now.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I turned and we literally came face-to-face. As I looked into Linda’s eyes, I was suddenly transported back in time to the front porch of Maria’s house one hot July evening many years earlier. But when Linda and I kissed, (a short, yet wonderful moment in time), my thoughts were only of her and me.
We reluctantly broke from our embrace and stood awkwardly for a few seconds.
“Before we jump right to dessert,” she said, “why don’t we just slow things down a little and have some dinner?”
“Sounds good to me,” I agreed.
I soon found myself in the delightful company of a very well read and completely fascinating woman, whose life story thus far held me captivated. During the conversation - and between mouthfuls of homemade chicken tetrazini - I’d added a few details of my own experiences, trying to keep everything light and enjoyable. I told her about my time on the police force but failed to truthfully divulge the shady details of my departure. I admitted I was divorced and that in the past I may have drunk too much. At no time did I say my wife had left me due to my alcoholism. (Like I said, I was trying to keep things light and more importantly, to make that feeling generated by that one kiss last as long as I possibly could.)
“Did you know you are the talk of the town?” Linda asked as I poured us some more wine.
“Can’t say as I did,” I replied.
“You’re the biggest news here since . . .”
“Hold it - let me guess,” I interrupted. “Not since Cathy Jones misplaced her husband. Am I right?”
“Is that what you think happened?” Linda asked. “That Mrs. Jones murdered her husband for the insurance money?”
“Who said anything about insurance money?” I countered.
“Well why else would you kill your husband?”
“You tell me. Didn’t you and your ex ever have a fight where you yelled at each other, ‘I wish you were dead’?”
“I guess on occasion.”
“And at the time you said that, were you thinking about insurance money?” I didn’t wait for her reply as an understanding expression crossed her face.
