Danielle Steel - 44 Charles Street

Francesca went back downstairs to the kitchen at dinnertime, and Eileen was there. She was eating a bowl of soup, and back on the computer. She apologized as soon as Francesca came into the room, poured herself a glass of milk, and grabbed an apple. The soup Eileen had made was her own—she had been careful not to help herself to Francesca’s food. Francesca thought it was a good sign that she would be a respectful roommate.

She sat down at the table, and saw that Eileen had logged on to one of the online dating services, and was looking over the photographs on the screen.

“Do you ever try it?” she asked Francesca with a look of happy mischief and then giggled. “I love it. It’s kind of like ordering takeout guys instead of takeout food. I started doing it in college. I met some great guys in L.A. and San Diego. I went out with one of them for almost a year, until he got drunk and joined the Marines.”

“I didn’t think people still did that, got drunk and enlisted I mean. And no, I’ve never met anyone online. It sounds too dangerous. I’d be afraid of who I’d meet. There’s no screening process.” The idea of meeting men online really put her off. It seemed so desperate to her. She felt much safer meeting men through friends, although she knew many people who had met men, and even their husbands, online.

“You develop a pretty good sixth sense for who these guys are. I’ve only met one or two who were creepy.”

“Do you do it a lot?” Francesca asked with interest. It surprised her that a pretty, wholesome cheerleader type like Eileen would need or want to meet men online. She could have any man she wanted. But Francesca also knew that it wasn’t easy to meet single eligible man, which was why online dating services existed.

“Not really. It’s just a nice distraction when I have nothing else to do.” It made Francesca wonder if she needed to set some kind of guidelines about bringing people to the house, but realized she had no right to do that. She was her landlady, not the resident adviser in a girls’ dorm, or her mother. They were both adults with their own lives, and who Eileen brought home was going to be her business, not Francesca’s. So she didn’t say anything. She just went back upstairs munching on her apple, and left Eileen alone to her pursuits. If she met men on the Internet, it was up to her, whether it seemed wise to Francesca or not. All she knew was that it wasn’t for her.

Francesca hadn’t even thought of dating till then, and didn’t want to yet. She wasn’t ready. Eileen was full of life, and trying to meet people in a new city. Francesca was older and more cautious. Online matchmaking services had no appeal to her whatsoever. If she met a man, it was going to have to be the old-fashioned way, through friends, or at some kind of social gathering, or at the gallery. But she didn’t even want to meet a man right now, nor start dating. She didn’t have time anyway, and the only thing she wanted to find online were two more tenants.

It finally happened two weeks later, in mid-January. She got a response from a man who sounded sane. He said he was a graphic designer who worked from home a lot of the time, traveled occasionally for business, said he was solvent, and was looking for a setup like the one she was offering. He said he was recently divorced, had no furniture, and needed a bedroom and a small study to set up his drafting table and his computer. Her currently unoccupied second floor, where the dining room had been, sounded adequate for him. They made an appointment for him to come and see the house. He mentioned that he was thirty-eight years old, and when he came to meet her, he explained that he had a seven-year-old son who spent alternate weekends with him.

“Will that be a problem?” he asked, looking worried. He had already come across several similar arrangements, but none was willing to include children. Francesca hesitated for a long moment before she answered and then nodded.

“I think that’ll be okay, as long as he’s not here all the time.” Two weekends a month didn’t seem like a lot to her, and Chris Harley looked relieved. He was tall, thin, had sandy blond hair, gray eyes, and a serious expression. He was so pale he looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years. He would have been good-looking if he hadn’t been so somber.

He said very little to her during their meeting, except his question about his son. He looked at the rooms, seemed satisfied, and said in a quiet subdued voice, “I’ll take it.” He didn’t ooh and ahh the way Eileen had. He said almost nothing. He seemed extremely withdrawn to Francesca, but she didn’t mind that either. This wasn’t a date, they didn’t need to like each other, get to know each other, and become friends. All she needed to know was if he was a responsible person and would pay the rent. This wasn’t romance. And he didn’t look interested in that either. After showing him his rooms, Francesca led him downstairs to look at the kitchen, and see the garden unit. But he said he liked the one on the second floor better. The garden studio seemed too small to him, and he didn’t need or want to be that close to the kitchen. He offered to purchase furniture for the bedroom, which was fine with her.

Eileen was in the kitchen when they went down to see it, and she was on the computer again, as she was a lot of the time, not just looking for potential dates, but usually doing e-mail. She looked up and smiled when she saw Chris. As she told Francesca later, he was “cute.” Eileen was beginning to seem a little boy crazy to Francesca. She went out a lot at night, but none of her potential suitors had come to the house or been a problem for Francesca. Chris Harley seemed like an excellent tenant, although she didn’t know anything personal about him except that he was divorced and a graphic designer who thought he could pay the rent. That was all she needed to know, and if his credit was good.

She asked for the same details that she had asked of Eileen. Francesca took his credit information, and as she looked at him, he had a familiar look. She felt as though she had seen him sometime, somewhere. Or maybe that was just an impression. In any case, they shook hands on their deal, and Francesca said that after she checked his credit in the coming days, he could move in anytime if everything was fine, the sooner the better. So if all went well, they had their second roommate.

Chris Harley looked happy with the arrangement when he left the house on Charles Street that afternoon. And Francesca promised to call him as soon as she got the results of the credit check. But he didn’t look as though he’d have a problem paying his rent or his bills. He seemed solid, and conservative and well-spoken. He said he designed industrial packaging and had given her his card. Francesca had a good feeling about him. She trusted her own instincts. He looked like a wholesome, decent guy, who would be pleasant to have around.

She said as much to Eileen while they tidied up the kitchen. “He’s nice-looking too,” Francesca said casually, and Eileen shrugged.

“He’s too conventional, too boring. He’s not for me.” Francesca wanted to ask her who was, other than the scores of men whose photographs she perused on the Internet. “Besides, it would be stupid to get involved with someone living here. That’s a little too close for comfort.” They both agreed on that.

“If things go wrong, one of us would have to move. I’d rather go out with men I meet outside, or online.” She had half a dozen candidates going strong at the moment with whom she e-mailed, and Francesca had no idea which ones Eileen had met, and which she hadn’t.

Much to Francesca’s delight, Chris got an excellent credit rating when Francesca checked him out. He was good to go as her second tenant, although she hadn’t met his son and felt she didn’t need to. How bad could a seven-year-old be? And four days a month wasn’t enough to worry about. She called Chris at the office number he gave her, and told him that he was welcome to move into the house as soon as he wanted.