Chapter 19
Daniel dragged his suitcase up the three steps to the front door of his house. He was about to put the key in the door when he heard a shout behind him, followed by muttered curses.
It was Mr. Barnaby, under the hood of his old Toyota up to his waist. Daniel left his luggage and went across the street. “Is it acting up again? I thought they fixed your engine over the summer.”
His neighbor extricated himself from the car and grunted.
“So did I.” The man brushed brown hair away from his eyes with an oil-stained hand, and did his best to smile.
“I’d just call AAA to tow it, but I need to go to Cross County this afternoon.
I was hoping I could fix it myself. I guess I’ll call a cab and worry about the engine later. ”
Daniel had planned to go up to his childhood room and collapse on the comfortable queen bed for a couple of hours. But Mr. Barnaby needed help. That’s what you did for neighbors.
“Forget the cab, Mr. Barnaby. Mom’s car is in the garage, let me bring my stuff inside and I can drive you over there.”
His parents were both with his sister, touring the condo that she hoped to buy. They wouldn’t be home until dinnertime, probably.
He went inside, brought his suitcase upstairs, came back down and drank a glass of Coke in ten seconds flat. A minute after that, he was behind the wheel of his mother’s twenty year old Cadillac—inherited from her mother—and driving out of the garage.
The Cross County Shopping Center in Yonkers was only a ten minute drive away, and there was almost no traffic at all on a Tuesday afternoon. “Where do you want me to park?”
“Wanamakers, please.” That was one of the two big department stores at the mall.
“What do you need there?”
His neighbor didn’t answer for a moment, and when he did, it was in a low, almost hesitant voice. “A new suit. For—God, if I can’t even say it out loud, what the hell am I doing? A date. My first first date in twenty-five years.”
Daniel didn’t know what to say to that. Mrs. Barnaby had passed away four years ago. That was a long time—in the movies, people started dating again, or even got married again, faster than that.
Why shouldn’t he? He didn’t need to be alone the rest of his life.
And he had plenty to offer someone. He owned his house outright, he had a good job, he was a great father as far as his kids said.
And he was—not that Daniel was a good judge of this—decent looking.
He had all his hair, anyway. That seemed like a big plus at his age.
“That’s great,” Daniel said. “I hope it goes well.”
It took a half hour in the men’s department for Mr. Barnaby to find something he was satisfied with. He kept asking Daniel’s opinion, and it was weird the way he wanted to know, “What’s the style today? What are guys your age wearing?”
“Why are you so worried about that?”
“Because that’s what she’s probably looking for. Because—God help me—she’s twenty-six years old, okay?”
Daniel didn’t know how he managed to keep silent at that. That was only a couple of years older than his daughter Jane. It was bizarre. It was freaky. It was totally wrong.
No, that wasn’t for him to say. Mr. Barnaby had been kind to him his whole life.
He’d obviously loved his wife deeply, and he’d been mourning her for four years now.
If this girl wanted to go out with him, that was her business, and good for Mr. Barnaby for having the courage to ask her in the first place.
It was more courage than Daniel himself had. He’d broken up with Nora a year and a half ago and he hadn’t even thought about another girl.
Except that wasn’t true, was it? There was Valerie. He’d thought a lot about her. It was just that all his thoughts were about why she couldn’t be interested in him despite all the evidence to the contrary.
If his neighbor could work up the nerve to ask out a woman half his age, then the least he could do was to stop concocting ever more convoluted reasons why Valerie didn’t actually like him.
Nora , November 20
Nora was at Aunt Rachel’s apartment for yet another holiday. It was different this time, though. Dad was here, too, in the guest room while Nora shared a bed with Rachel.
Her father had been here for two weeks already; a plumbing disaster two floors above him had destroyed his ceiling and flooded half his apartment. It would be at least two more weeks before it was livable again.
This morning, Rachel was showing Dad around her office, so Nora was on her own. She took the subway down to Times Square, and without realizing it, ended up in front of the McDonalds on 45 th and Seventh Ave.
“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself. That night was almost two years ago, and it wasn’t ever going to happen again.
Not with him .
She finally turned away from that spot. She spent an hour people-watching, window shopping, and finally found herself on Madison Ave., right in front of Ann Taylor.
A black skirt-suit in the window caught her eye. It wasn’t her style, not at all.
But maybe it should be. How many TV journalists did she see wearing flowery dresses or colorful skirts or leggings? None.
If she wanted to be taken seriously, maybe it was time to look serious, too. And Dad had told her she could use the emergency credit card to buy herself something as a much-belated birthday gift. So—what the heck—in she went.
It didn’t take long to find something even better than the suit in the window: a similar suit, except in dark pink and with a more flattering cut. She grabbed her size, took it into the fitting room and tried it on.
It felt great. And in the three-way mirror it looked perfect. But for $450—even if it was Dad’s money—she needed an outside opinion.
She took her purse and went back out into the store, looking for a sales clerk. Instead, she was approached by a redheaded woman probably around Rachel’s age, looking somehow both desperate and hopeful at the same time.
“I have a date tonight,” she said, “and I need something fantastic.”
Clearly she thought Nora worked here.
And equally clearly she needed help.
Nora remembered needing help herself. She remembered standing in front of her closet for a half hour before her first date with Daniel, until Kim saved her. Why not pay it forward now?
“Where are you going?”
“A little Italian place in the Bronx.” She looked down. “It’s our first date.”
Nora smiled. “How do you feel about dresses?”
The woman hesitated. “That’s not my usual style. I work in a restaurant, so it’s a chef’s jacket and slacks every night. But—maybe? He’d probably like it.”
“He’ll love it,” Nora took her by the arm and led her over to a rack of dresses. “I say go with black. It’s classic. And it’ll set your hair off, too.”
Fifteen minutes—and a lot of hemming and hawing—later, Nora convinced her to try one on. When she emerged from the fitting room, she looked very uncertain.
“That’s fantastic,” Nora said firmly. “It’s totally you. Just, you know, hold your head up and smile. Wear it like you own the place, right?”
The woman tried. And for a second, she almost pulled it off, just as a real sales clerk came over. “That’s lovely, ma’am,” the clerk said. “I can help you when you’re ready to check out. And you too, Miss,” she said to Nora, “That suit fits you perfectly.”
The redhead blinked. “Wait, I thought you…”
“I don’t work here.” Nora laughed.” You just looked like you could use a hand.”
Five minutes later, they both stood at the counter, bags in hand.
“Thank you,” the woman said. “I was really freaking out, you’re a lifesaver.” She laughed nervously. “Still freaking out, I guess. I never even told you my name. I’m Cassie.”
“Nora. Nice to officially meet you,” she said with a laugh. “And good luck tonight.”
“You too. That suit is fantastic, do you have a job interview coming up?”
“Not yet,” Nora said. “But I’ll be ready when I do.”
Cassie hugged her. “Well, good luck whenever that is.”
As she watched Cassie walk away, armed with a killer dress and—hopefully—a little confidence, Nora wondered when she’d have a first date of her own again.
Daniel , November 21
Daniel sat on his bed, wondering how long he could stay up here in his bedroom before he’d be missed.
Dinner last night had been stressful. It shouldn’t have been—nothing Dad or his sister asked him was unreasonable, really. Did he have any prospects yet for a job after graduation? Was he enjoying his senior year? Was he dating anyone?
All totally normal questions. But he hadn’t answered any of them. He’d deflected and dodged and—well, flat-out lied. And he wasn’t even sure why.
As childish as it was, he wished he had Mr. Fuzzles right now.
Stuffed animals didn’t make you feel like you were betraying them because you were hoping to get a job in another city.
And they didn’t judge you for not being able to get over the girl you loved, even eighteen months after you broke up.
He hoped Nora had kept the bear, and that it was comforting her whenever she needed it.
There was a knock at the door. “Daniel, can I come in?” It was Mom.
“Sure,” he said, although he wasn’t at all.
His mother came in, closed the door behind her, and sat down next to him.
“I know it’s hard, Daniel,” she said. “You’re trying to figure out your whole life, and you’re scared we’re all judging you for not having it all figured out already. Right?”
Of course she knew.
“I know it’s stupid. You weren’t judging me. You were just talking, you and Dad. And Lisa, too. But that’s how I felt anyway, like I couldn’t say…”
She put an arm around him. “You didn’t want to say that you’re thinking about moving away when you graduate. Or maybe you already have a job lined up.”
He didn’t quite laugh. “Almost. They want to fly me out to Chicago in January for an interview. Nothing’s final—I can still say no.”