Page 153 of Save the Date
“And then you bought her building, out of love.” Libba laughed. “Some guys would have settled for a nice piece of jewelry, Jack.”
He looked confused. “Why would Cara want jewelry? She was going to lose her shop, and her apartment. Her father’s breathing down her neck to repay him some money she owes him, and this seemed like a good solution.”
“I’ll tell you a little story, Jack. Back in the early eighties, Mitch and I had been married a couple of years, and we were renting a crummy garage apartment on Washington Avenue, when I got pregnant with Harris. One day, some friend told Mitch about a little fixer-upper in Kensington Park, so he went to see it on his lunch hour, then came home that night and proudly announced he’d bought us a house.”
“And you weren’t thrilled?”
“I was enraged! I had three years’ worth of back issues ofSouthern Living, bookmarked with ideas for our first house. And this place was a dump. Two bedrooms, one tiny little bath that didn’t even have a shower. No washer or dryer, and the kitchen was a nightmare. If Mitch had bothered to show me the place, I could have pointed that out. I could have pointed out the fire station across the street, and predicted that every time there was an alarm, those fire trucks would go racing out of there with sirens wailing, waking our sleeping baby. But most of all, I hated that my husband didn’t understand me enough to know you don’t make that kind of a decision without consulting your partner.”
“Point taken,” Jack said.
“I tell you, I stewed and fumed over that house every day, until when I got pregnant with Holly, I laid down the law, we sold that house, and we picked out another house together in Ardsley Park.”
“And you lived happily ever after.”
A smile crept across Libba’s round, ruddy face. “We did, didn’t we?”
“I don’t see that kind of ending for us,” he said. “Cara is determined to move into another building, over on East Hall. The guy who owns it is a bottom-feeder, had it on the market forever, and couldn’t unload it. I took a look at it, just out of curiosity, and it’s a real piece of crap. That block is no place for a florist’s shop, and it’s no place for her. But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m staying out of it.”
“No chance of a reconciliation?” Libba asked.
Jack shook his head vehemently. “I tried. Now I’m done. A man can only crawl for so long.”
63
Cara heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. She stuck her head around the kitchen doorway. “Bert? Is that you?”
A blond head came into view. “It’s Leo.” He topped the last stair and flashed her his trademark Southeastern Region Salesman of the Quarter smile. “The shop door was open and unlocked, but there was nobody around downstairs, so I thought I should come up here and check things out. You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked in this neighborhood, Cara. Anybody could walk right in here, like I just did.”
“Thanks for the helpful advice, Leo. What do you want?”
He glanced around the kitchen. “I saw all the boxes downstairs. You’re moving?”
“Yes.” She slammed the packing-tape dispenser on the top of a cardboard box of dishes and dragged it across the closed flaps, snapping off the tape at the end.
“How come? I thought you liked it here. It looked like a pretty sweet setup.”
“The building has been sold.” Cara moved over to the next box. Leo leaned over and plucked a mug from a nest of wadded-up newspaper.
“Hey, I remember these. They were a wedding present from my aunt, right?”
“Keep it,” Cara said.
“That’s okay,” Leo said, handing the cup back. “I got plenty myself.”
He leaned back against the counter, crossed one foot over the other, oblivious of the fact that he was in her way.
“Where are you moving to? Not out of town, right?”
She put the tape down on the countertop. “Is there a point to this drop-in, Leo? Because if there is, I wish you’d get to it. Bert will be back with the van any minute now, and I want to finish boxing up this kitchen.”
He glanced around the kitchen. “What happened to your new boyfriend? How come he’s not the one doing all the heavy lifting?”
Cara flushed. “None of your business.”
“Sounds like he’s out of the picture now. Just as well. The dude was not in your class, at all.”
Leo reached in his pocket, brought out a Chap Stick, and ran it across his lips, smacking them noisily, and in the process reminding Cara of how much she’d loathed that particular nervous habit of his.
