Then I phoned Lester. “We’re on,” I told him.
“Good,” said Les. “I’ve already run it by Dad and Sylvia.”
15
Settling In
When we unlocked the door to Lester’s apartment and went inside, we walked right into a cardboard sign dangling from the hall light fixture. We dropped our bags on the floor and looked around.
There were signs everywhere:
SMOKE ALARM GOES OFF FOR BURNT TOAST.
IF MR. WATTS WANTS YOU TO BUY
DOUGHNUTS, DON’T.
USE YOUR CELL PHONES. IF WE CAN’T
REACH YOU ON THE APARTMENT PHONE,
YOU’RE DEAD.
PLEASE USE UP ALL THE BROCCOLI.
“Well, here we are!” I said. “We haven’t been here since …”
“Valentine’s Day,” said Gwen. “When we came over to decorate Lester’s car.”
“And almost got ourselves arrested,” Liz remembered.
“I get dibs on Lester’s room!” said Pamela, heading straight for it. She knew which one it was, because we had helped him unpack when he first moved in.
“We’re sharing the bed, then,” I told her. “And you signed an agreement that you wouldn’t go through his stuff.”
“I won’t touch a thing that’s not mine, but it’s not a federal offense if I open a drawer by mistake, is it?” said Pamela.
“For you, yes,” I said.
“I’ll take this room,” said Liz, poking her head in George’s bedroom. “He’s the one getting married in September, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. The last big bachelor trip.”
“Then I’ll take Paul’s room,” said Gwen.
While the others dropped their stuff in the bedrooms, I checked the fridge to see what the guys had left us. Not much, but it was a good start—a package of four small steaks and a few containers from Boston Market.
“Can you believe this?” I said, beaming. “We’ve got a furnished apartment for ten days, absolutely free. This is definitely the way a summer should go!”
“Except that we can’t party,” said Pamela.
“Not with guys,” I said.
“What exactly are we supposed to do about Mr. Watts?” asked Liz. “Does he need to be bathed or what?”
“No. He has an aide all day. She helps him shower and dress in the morning, gives him his medicine during the day, goes for walks with him in the afternoons, then cooks a little dinner for him before she leaves at six. Les says that all we have to do is go down about nine o’clock, see that he takes his medicine and gets safely in bed. If he needs us during the night, he’ll ring a cowbell. Les says we’ll hear it, not to worry.”
“I think we should all go down with you tonight and say hello so he’ll know who’s here,” said Gwen.
“Good idea,” I said.
It was incredibly exciting having an apartment all to ourselves. It was like we were career women, renting our own place, cooking our own dinner, except then we’d probably have wine with the meal. We found the cupboard where the guys stashed their stuff, but we’d promised no booze and we’d stick to it.
Pamela set the table, Liz tossed the salad, I opened a container of roasted potatoes and another of scalloped apples, and Gwen broiled the steaks.
“Delicious!” I declared as we each raised a glass of sparkling cider, which Liz had thought to bring along.
“To our first apartment or our first real jobs, whichever comes first,” said Pamela. “You know, if we were just starting out, we probably wouldn’t be having steak, especially if we lived in New York,” said Pamela.
“If we lived in New York, we wouldn’t even be able to afford an apartment,” said Gwen.
“Yeah, just look how old Les and his roommates are,” I said. “George is the only one out of school, and they’re not even paying rent yet.” I sighed. “It’ll be forever before we’re completely on our own.”
“Paul’s the one who fascinates me,” said Gwen. “You can learn a lot about a man just by the books he reads. I checked out his bookcase, and he’s got books on geology and physics. He’s got Veblen’s Theory of the Leisure Class and Huxley’s Brave New World. I mean, that guy is all over the map.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m not marrying George, then, because most of his books are about finance,” said Liz. “Stocks, bonds, investment strategies … Bor-ing!”
“Yeah, but he’ll be the one who gets rich,” said Pamela. “As for Lester, he’s got a whole shelf of comic books, along with The Sane Society and War and Peace. And …” She got up from the table and went into our bedroom—Lester’s room—and came out a minute later with a mischievous smile on her face. “… this!” She held up a book titled, The Erotic Drawings of Mihaly Zichy. “Now let’s see you try to describe Lester!” We laughed.
“He told me you’d snoop,” I scolded her.
“Yeah? What else did he say about me?”
“She’s had a crush on Les ever since your family moved in,” said Liz.
“If he told you I’d snoop, he must have been thinking about me,” Pamela said.
“Girl, sit down and finish your steak,” Gwen said. “We’re going to tie you up if you don’t behave yourself.”
But now that Pamela had brought the book out, of course we all had to look at the pictures before we put it back.
We went downstairs so I could reintroduce the girls to Otto Watts. I didn’t know if he’d remember Liz and Pamela from the time we’d brought a surprise supper to Les. That was the night we’d discovered Les was having a party, so we gave the food to Mr. Watts instead.
“Well,” he said now after we rang the bell. “What’d you bring me this time?”
“An invitation for dinner tomorrow night,” I told him. “How about if we make the dinner and bring it down? We’ll eat here and do the dishes afterward.”
“Can’t argue with that! Come on in,” he said.
“This is Gwen Wheeler,” I told him. “The only one of us you haven’t met.”
Lester had already told Mr. Watts we’d be here, of course.
“Glad to have you,” the old man said, waving us toward the chairs in his high-ceilinged Victorian living room. “You know the rules, right?”
“No boys, no booze, no smoking,” said Pamela.
Mr. Watts looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you the rest?”
“There are more?” I asked.
“Of course there are more. This is my house, isn’t it? No card playing, no TV, and lights-out after ten o’clock.”
“What?” we exclaimed.
Then he began to laugh, and as we finally relaxed, he said, “Gotcha, didn’t I?”
“Be serious now,” I told him. “Do you need anything before we go back upstairs? Have you taken your medicine?”
“Got my medicine. Even got my jammies on,” he said, pointing beneath his robe. “If you want, you could bring me a glass of milk and a doughnut.”
“’Fraid not,” I said. “Lester says no doughnuts.”
“And Lester’s full of baloney,” Mr. Watts declared. “He keeps talking like that, I’ll have to kick him out of that apartment.” He glanced at the clock. “Don’t want to rush you girls now, but I’ve got to watch CSI. You can stay if you want, but you can only talk during the commercials.”
We laughed.
“We’re going,” said Gwen. “Windows all closed?”
“Everything’s shipshape,” the old man said. “If you get too noisy up there, I’ll just take out my hearing aid.”
With a new CD playing in the background, we sat around Lester’s living room talking about our summer—the good, the bad, the boring—and Pamela suggested that we make a prediction where we’d all be when we were twenty-five.
Jill and Justin? Married. Penny? Engaged, probably, to a golf-playing businessman. Karen? Real estate. Yolanda? Single. Hairstylist. Brian? Working for some Wall Street broker his dad knows—divorced and paying child support. Patrick? Teaching political science a
t Ohio State.
“We ought to be writing all this down to keep so we can open the envelope when we’re twenty-five,” said Liz, and got her pen from her bag.
“Remember the time capsule our class buried back in seventh grade?” I reminded her. “We’re all supposed to come back when we’re sixty and open it up. Read those letters we wrote to our sixty-year-old selves.”
“I don’t even remember mine,” said Pamela. “Okay, who’s next? Mark? What do we say for Mark?”
“He and Keeno will own a car dealership,” I guessed.
“When they’re only twenty-five?” asked Gwen.
“Okay, they’ll be operating a car repair shop, saving up to buy a dealership.”
“Married?” asked Pamela.
“Definitely married,” said Liz. “Well, Keeno, anyway.”
“What about you?” asked Gwen. “Teacher, I’m guessing. Married. Child on the way.”
Liz giggled. “And you’ll still be in medical school. Alice will be a reporter for the Washington Post… . And Pamela?”
“Massage therapist,” Pam joked. “Men only.”
“I wish we could stay here in Silver Spring and keep our gang together,” Liz said wistfully. “Go to each other’s weddings and raise our kids together. Teach them to swim at the Stedmeisters’ pool. Drive to the Mall on the Fourth of July. I hate to think of everyone scattering to the winds… .”
“I get sad if I think we won’t,” said Pamela. “I’d like to come back for reunions and stuff, but, hey, sister! I want to live in New York! I want to see Paris! I want to be pinched by a guy in Rome and kissed by a bullfighter in Barcelona! Come on!”
I figured that my chance of being kissed by a bullfighter was about one in a billion even if I spent the rest of my life in Spain, but it would be nice to see the world as long as I could keep in touch with everybody.
The apartment phone rang, and I reached over to the magazine table and picked it up. Les had told me that although he and George and Paul all had cell phones, they’d kept the apartment’s landline and listed number for business calls.
“Hello?” I said, answering in as businesslike a voice as possible.
There was no response, but I could tell someone was on the line. Possibly Mr. Watts. “Hello?” I said again, a little louder.
“Uh … Could I speak with Lester?” came a woman’s voice.
“I’m sorry, but he’s not here. May I take a message?” I replied.
Another pause. Then, “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Not for ten days. He’s in Utah.”
“Utah?” The voice sounded incredulous. It was a young woman’s voice. “May I ask who you are?”
“I’m Alice, his sister.”
“Yeah, right,” said the voice.
My eyes widened in surprise. “Who are you?” Gwen, Liz, and Pamela turned toward me, listening.
“I’m a friend, I think,” the woman said. “Listen, are you his girlfriend? Because if you are, I need to know.”
“His girlfriend? I told you, I’m his sister.”
Liz had one hand over her mouth. Gwen was smiling, and Pamela was laughing silently.
“Yeah, and I’m a duchess,” the woman said. “You’re his wife, aren’t you?”
“No! What’s this all about, anyway?”
“Well, I can’t believe he said I could call him, and then I get you,” she said.
“When did he tell you that? Where did you meet him?”
“A couple of nights ago in a bar. He was really nice… .” She paused. “I’m getting him in trouble, aren’t I? What’s he doing, playing around?”
“Look, whoever you are, I—”
The woman hung up, and I put down the phone.
“Who was that?” the others wanted to know.
“Some woman who met Les in a bar, and she thinks I’m his wife.”
“His wife?” Pamela screamed with laughter.
“Girlfriend, anyway. She says Les told her to call.”
Pamela playfully shook her head. “A heartbreaker, I knew it. That’s Les—love ’em and leave ’em.”
“That doesn’t sound like Lester,” I said.
“Do you have his cell phone number? You could give her that if she calls again,” Gwen suggested.
“Are you nuts? And ruin his vacation?”
“Well, ask him about it anyway.”
“I will,” I said.
Gwen and Liz went grocery shopping on Saturday, and we made lasagna that evening for dinner. I put together a pineapple upside-down cake, the only cake I can make without a recipe. I cut five slices from the pan and put them on a plate to take downstairs. We also brought a salad and a long loaf of garlic bread. Mr. Watts ate like a bear.
“How do you stay so healthy?” asked Gwen.
“I don’t,” he replied. “Why do you suppose they give me a nurse’s aide?”
“Well, you certainly have a good appetite,” Gwen told him. “At ninety-two, you must be doing something right.”
“Here’s the secret,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, as though no one else could hear. “I do everything they tell me not to do.”
We laughed.
“Sugar? I love it. Red meat? Bring it on. I gave up gin and cigars a long time ago, but I watch any show on TV that’ll raise my pulse, and I skip any program with ‘nature’ in the title. Puts me to sleep.”
We cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, then played poker with Mr. Watts till Liz said she was sleepy.
“Bunch of deadbeats,” Mr. Watts said, but I noticed him yawning too. “Go on up, then,” he said. “I’ll turn on my TV, but there’s nothing good on Saturday nights. Might have to watch a nature program yet.”
We waited till he’d put on his pajamas and was out of the bathroom. Then we followed him into the bedroom and made sure he took his nightly medicine.
“He’s a riot,” Liz said on our way up the side steps. “Did he ever marry?”
“His wife died a long time ago. Has the one son in Atlanta and some sisters somewhere. That’s his family,” I told her.
We all had calls to make when we got upstairs. I had a message from Patrick on my cell. Gwen called her grandmother to say her nightly good night. Liz called Keeno, and Pamela called home.
“Patrick missing you?” Liz asked after I came back out of the bedroom.
“I hope so,” I said. “But even if he were back here now, we couldn’t have guys over, so I’d really be bummed.”
“How’s he doing in his summer courses?” asked Gwen.
“Acing them, of course. I don’t even ask. With Patrick, it’s all or nothing,” I said. “Everything gets his best shot.”
“Well, when he ever decides to really go for you, girl, watch out,” said Gwen.
We played cards and talked about having a backyard party on Sunday afternoon or evening. Shortly after midnight Liz went to bed, and the rest of us followed.
I don’t know what time it was, but I was awakened by Pamela, shaking my arm.
“Alice!” she whispered.
I could hardly get my lips to move. “Huh?”
“Listen!”
My mind kept retreating back into sleep, and I had to work to focus on Pamela. Footsteps.
My heart jumped. I opened my eyes and stared up into the darkness.
All was quiet. Then a couple more footsteps—the soft, stealthy kind, not the quiet of bare feet padding into the bathroom. These were accompanied by creaking floorboards, with pauses in between.
I bolted upright and swung my legs over my side of the bed. Groping my way around it, I followed Pamela and we crept out into the hallway, where we bumped into Liz, feeling her way along.
“S-someone’s in the apartment!” she whispered, then hissed, “Gwen!” at the doorway to Gwen’s room.
Gwen must have heard it too, because she was already sitting up. We could see her silhouette against the window. She got up and silently came out into the hall.
“Someone’s in here!” Liz repeated. My heart was beating so fast, it hurt. Hadn’t we locked the door? I was sure that we had. A window? Here on the second floor?
Another couple of footsteps. There’s nothing more sinister than the footsteps of someone you don’t know in the middle of the night.
Pamela was pushing me into the bathroom, the only room in the apartment with a lock. Gwen and Liz pressed in after us. We closed the door as quietly as we could and locked it. I felt sure I could hear their hearts beating along with mine.
“Did you hear anyone come in?” I whispered to the others.
“I thought maybe I heard the front door close, I’m not sure,” said Liz. “I think that’s what woke me. Then I saw the beam of a flashlight going on and off and heard the footsteps.”
“Call 911,” I said shakily.
“Who’s got a phone?” asked Gwen.
“We don’t have a phone?” gasped Pamela. “We’re locked in a bathroom on the second floor and don’t have a cell phone?”
“Someone’s out there!” I squeaked in panic as the footsteps came closer, then receded, then came closer again. Pamela clamped one hand over my mouth until we heard a floorboard squeak farther down the hall, but maybe that meant there were two of them!
“Let’s all scream,” Liz suggested. “Let’s open the window above the tub and all scream together.”
“And bang on the pipes!” Pamela whispered. “If we bang hard enough, maybe it will wake Mr. Watts. Do we have anything metal?”
I felt along the top of the sink and found a plastic deodorant container and my can of mousse.
“Two of us can bang on the pipes and the other two scream out the window,” Gwen instructed.
Gwen and Liz stepped into the tub and tried to raise the window, but it was stuck.
Someone rattled the doorknob to the bathroom, and that’s when we panicked. All four of us screamed for Mr. Watts, and I banged as hard as I could on the pipe under the sink with the spray can.
And then, above the noise, we heard someone yell, “Will you stop that infernal racket?”