Даниэла Стил - Neighbors

Meredith was still worried about her when she dressed for dinner, and Charles could see that something was bothering her when he picked her up that evening, and drove her to the Italian restaurant he had mentioned to her. She told him about it over dinner, and it disturbed him too. He commented that no one defends an abuser like their victim.

“I don’t know what to do to help her. She’s never admitted to me that he hurts her.”

“You can’t do anything until she tells you,” Charles said. And then they spoke of other things. Charles knew a lot about movies, and had seen all of hers. He admitted that he’d had a crush on her when he was first in the Air Force. “I was just a kid then, and so were you. I never thought I’d be having dinner with you one day.” He told her about the missions he had flown, being in military intelligence, and winding up at the Pentagon. He had had a distinguished military career. His son had gone to West Point, and was in the army now, and his daughter was a private pilot for a major corporation and lived in Texas. She was married to a commercial airline pilot and had two children. “I guess I gave her the flying bug when she was a little kid.” He sounded proud of her.

“Maybe it’s hereditary. I hardly know my granddaughter, but she’s trying to be an actress,” Meredith said softly.

“Do you miss it?” Charles asked her.

“Sometimes. Not much anymore. It was another lifetime. I loved it when I was doing it. It was thrilling. And then I stopped. Everything stopped…when my son died.” She looked at him with eyes that told the whole story of loss and bottomless grief, and he didn’t press her about it.

“Would you ever go back to acting?” he asked her and she shook her head.

“Not now. It’s too late.” And then she remembered Arthur telling her it was never too late. “I’m not even sure I could do it anymore, or that I’d be any good. It’s been too long, and there aren’t a lot of great parts for women my age.”

“You could make a comeback if you wanted to. Even kids who never saw your movies know your name.”

“It’s the only job I ever knew, or that I wanted. I loved it,” she said, and her eyes lit up. It was the first time in years that she had admitted it, even to herself. “I just couldn’t make myself go back after Justin died. It seemed so insignificant compared to losing him.”

“Most jobs are insignificant,” Charles said quietly, “unless you’re saving lives or curing cancer. I had a lot of fun flying, and my daughter does too. But we weren’t changing the world. We just had fun doing what we got paid for.” He had a relaxed, practical point of view about things, and she liked that about him. She admired the fact that he volunteered for the OES now, and that he’d had the courage to come to San Francisco, knowing no one, to start a new life and his own business. While she had retreated behind her walls, his reaction to grief and losing his wife was to try something different. He was braver than she was. He owned a private security agency, providing protection for high-profile people, like her. He had kept the agency small and had select clients, and he enjoyed it.

The evening sped by, and the dinner was as good as he had promised. What she noticed most of all was how comfortable she was with him. He felt like an old friend instead of someone new. She didn’t have to tell him her whole history. He already knew most of it, and could sense the rest. He was intuitive about people, at ease with himself, and comfortable in his own skin. She realized as he drove her home that she had forgotten to tell him she didn’t want to date him. She laughed when she thought of it.

“What’s funny?” he asked as they stopped at a light.

“I was going to tell you that I didn’t want to go out with you, that I’m too old to start over, and too old for you.” She was smiling at him.

“And? You think that’s funny?” He didn’t look amused.

“I was having such a good time with you, I forgot to tell you.”

He laughed too then. “And now?”

“I’m still too old, but I had a really nice time. I like being with you.” He looked pleased when she said it.

“So do I. Shall we leave it at that and not make any major policy decisions just yet? And you’re not too old by the way. I don’t actually give a damn how old you are, if that’s okay with you. My wife was five years older than I am and it was never a problem for us. I don’t see what difference eight years makes. And you look great. So can we scratch that one off the list?”

She nodded with a grin. “Apparently.”

“Anything else you seriously object to? I think your recluse status is somewhat at risk. You went to the symphony two days ago, and out to dinner at a restaurant tonight. So that’s kind of a flimsy excuse. Let’s just take it easy and see where it goes. How does that sound?”

“Interesting,” she said with a mischievous look, and when they stopped at her gate, she took the remote out of her purse, opened the gate, and they drove in. When he stopped the car, he leaned over and kissed her. She was startled by how it made her feel, suddenly young again and as if there was hope for the future. She hadn’t felt that way in years. She had been so sure that the best of her life was behind her, and now she didn’t think so.

“I love being with you, Meredith,” he said softly.

“Me too,” she whispered. He kissed her again, and then a night security guard appeared and waited discreetly for them to get out of the car, and stayed in the courtyard. He had been less aware of her security right after the earthquake than he was now.

“I’m not sure how fast I’ll get used to how famous you are,” he said as he followed her into the house, and they said good night in the front hall. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised, and she knew he would. She wanted him to. That was the best part. He left then, and she went upstairs with a smile on her face, and as she did the years melted away, and the heavy burdens she had carried for so long. Suddenly she felt young again. She wondered if maybe Arthur was right after all. It was never too late. She realized that now.

Chapter 7

The night Meredith had dinner with Charles, Ava dropped in at Arthur’s house to return Peter’s manuscript to him, and tell him that she loved it. She thought the story gripping, and the characters insightful. She said she couldn’t put it down, and whenever she had to stop reading, she couldn’t wait to get back to it. He was thrilled to hear it.

“You’re the only person I’ve given it to,” he said, looking nervous. Arthur called down to him then as they stood inside the front door, and asked who it was.

“It’s Ava,” Peter called up to him, hoping he wouldn’t mind. She hadn’t called first to ask if she could come by.

“Tell her to come up,” he said in answer. She followed Peter up the stairs, and she went into the room Arthur used as an office, with his piano prominently in the room. It was the first room he had Peter and the cleaning team put back in order, and where he most liked to be. Ava greeted him warmly and apologized for dropping by unannounced. “You’re welcome anytime you want to,” he said warmly. She kissed his cheek and he noticed the exotic scent of her perfume. Even without seeing her, he was aware of the sensual quality about her, and Peter even more so. It was the way she spoke, the slightly husky timbre of her voice, the long silky hair that brushed his cheek, which Peter looked at longingly. He had the benefit of being able to see her enticing figure, which Arthur didn’t.

“Why don’t you two go into the living room and play, or wherever you want to.” Peter looked embarrassed when Arthur said it. He would have liked to take her to his bedroom, but didn’t dare.