eyes, unable to put into words why she felt as if her life were over. It wasn’t. She was twenty-six, with a college degree whose ink was barely dry, awaiting the birth of her first child. Life was good, the future was bright.
So why did she feel as if she’d gone skydiving into a bottomless abyss?
Nicole set her mug down on the table. She’d finished her tea without realizing it. Without really tasting it. As she looked down at the empty mug, the buzzing noise in the background registered.
Someone was ringing her doorbell.
Nicole remained sitting at the table. It was a little after eight-thirty. No one came around at this time of day. It was too early. She knew that Marlene was home with her baby. She wasn’t expecting anyone and there was no place she was supposed to be. She only worked four days a week at the art gallery. Friday was her day off.
The doorbell rang again, setting her teeth on edge. She wished whoever it was would go away. But that didn’t seem likely from the insistent buzz.
Placing her palms on the table, Nicole pushed herself up. Crossing to the door, she looked through the peephole. Nicole blinked to clear her vision. It was the man in 175. The one who had just moved in less than a week ago. What did he want?
“Just a minute.” Nicole stepped back and flipped open the locks that she had installed herself. She took a deep breath and hoped she didn’t look as awful as she felt. “Yes?”
Dennis had his speech all prepared, but the faint tear stains on Nicole’s cheeks stopped him cold.
“You’ve been crying.” Why? he wondered. She hadn’t gotten a call and no one had been by to visit. He watched a fresh tear careen down her cheek. “And you’re still crying.”
Embarrassed, Nicole rubbed the telltale streaks with the heel of her hand and sniffed.
“No, I’m not. I’m answering the door.” She blew out a breath slowly, trying to regain her composure. She knew the man by sight. Curious, she had gone so far as to read his name off the mailbox which was right next to hers, but they’d never exchanged any words. She wished that he hadn’t picked now to start. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Dennis hated tears. It reminded him of all those evenings when he’d heard his mother crying after she thought he and Moira were asleep. He’d never acquired an immunity to them.
Make use of every opportunity, he’d been taught. Sometimes it was harder to remember than others.
He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on something.”
Oh God, sympathy. She couldn’t handle sympathy. That would only make her cry more.
Nicole tossed her head, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t.”
She felt like an idiot. Her nose was probably red. Nicole wished that he would say what he had to say and then leave.
“Crying jags are common for women in my condition. Look,” she said abruptly, cutting herself off, “you didn’t ring my bell because you wanted to take a survey on how emotional pregnant women are. Is there something I can do for you?”
Touchy. Obviously not a shrinking violet. It made him feel better.
Dennis glanced down at the key in his hand. “Yes. I’m your new neighbor, Dennis Lincoln. I’m expecting a delivery today, and I can’t be here to let the deliverymen in. I called the rental office, but they and maintenance seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth and I can’t get anyone to house-sit.”
He paused and looked at her. She wasn’t about to volunteer, he guessed. That made him feel better, too. Though it was part of his job, he really didn’t care for taking advantage of kindhearted people. Besides, he reminded himself, she’d probably been in on it with her late husband.
“I know it’s a huge imposition and this is the last minute and all, but are you working today?”
Dennis already knew the answer to that. He’d had Nicole’s complete schedule down pat before he ever moved in.
Nicole shook her head. “No, today’s my day off.” The day stretched before her, suddenly very large and empty. “I was just planning to put my feet up and watch my ankles thicken.”
Dennis glanced down at her feet. She was barefoot and had the kind of feet that reminded him of “Cinderella”: small and dainty. Her ankles were slender and graceful.
“They look pretty good from where I’m standing.”
The compliment, given so spontaneously and guilelessly, made Nicole laugh softly. It felt good. It had been a long time since she had been given a compliment. She smiled at him.
“Thanks, I needed that.”
His smile grew. “Any time, Mrs. Logan.”
She had no idea why, but for a moment, she entertained the idea of inviting him in. Maybe she was just lonely, or hungry for a kind word. That wasn’t like her, either.
He looked as if he was in a hurry.
Just as well, Nicole thought, she wasn’t in the market for any new friends. “What is it that you’re having delivered?”
“A big-screen TV.” Dennis nodded toward his apartment. The door was standing open. “My old one gave up the ghost just before I moved. When I went to replace it, I decided to treat myself to something that I’ve been wanting to get for a long time.”
She knew how that was. Except, in her case, it had been an education, something she had regretted turning her back on in the name of love.
Nicole cocked her head, unable to resist the temptation of looking into Dennis’s apartment. From where she stood, she had a clear view of the small living room. It appeared very tastefully furnished, but it was missing something.
Nicole looked at him, curious. “No Christmas decorations?”
It was an oversight he hadn’t thought about. Moira normally took care of that end. He never bothered with decorations at his apartment.
Dennis glossed over it casually. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
It sounded like procrastination to her. Something else she was well acquainted with. Craig did it all the time. Had done it, she corrected herself silently. Had done it. “It’s only a few days away.”
Moira would really like this woman, Dennis mused. “I don’t generally let things go until the last second. This year, however, things have gotten so hectic I seem to be leaving my whole personal life on hold until the last possible moment.”
Nicole nodded. He watched, intrigued, as a smile crept into her eyes. They were an interesting shade of indigo.
The comment reminded her of something Marlene might have said. “I have a sister like that. I’m thinking of getting a tranquilizing gun and shooting her with a dart for Christmas.”
Her smile broadened when she thought of Marlene. Now, with a brand new baby and maybe even a potential man in her life, perhaps Marlene would finally slow
