I was disturbed by the way the woman had acted. But maybe she didn't speak English, or maybe she wasn't a neighbor after all, just someone visiting. She'd had shopping bags and looked like she belonged, but I thought there must be some explanation for her rudeness. I put it out of my mind.
We headed down to the lobby. Les had said that was where everyone was meeting before starting work on the garden.
It was right on the dot of ten o'clock when we got off the elevator and stepped into the lobby.
From what I'd heard about living in a co-op, I'd expected dozens of people. Had I got the location wrong? The office was closed on a Saturday, so there was no one to ask.
Had they already started work? Maybe everyone had arrived there early and was already in the garden.
I went outside to see if I could find anyone working in the yard. No one was there. The co-op's grounds didn't look like they needed too much attention. The large maple trees in front of the building had scattered some golden leaves on the front lawn. But the lawn itself was neatly trimmed, and I couldn't see any leaves in the flowerbeds that lined the building.
The only thing that marred the appearance of the building was a rusty white motor home parked directly in front of it. I remembered seeing it when we moved in, but it had been parked further down the block on that day. Today, it was parked in a spot that would be a real problem for anyone wanting to move in or deliver something large.
The door to the motor home was hanging open. I couldn't tell if that meant someone was inside, or if it was broken. The door looked like it might drop off its hinges at any moment.
I looked around for anyone from the co-op. I did see the homeless woman I had met on the day I applied to move in. She was across the street staring at the building with a scowl on her face. She didn't have her shopping cart with her but I was sure it was the same woman.
I had tried to simplify our move as much as possible so I had given away a number of things I thought we wouldn't need in the new place. The small pendant she had given me was dirty and tarnished but I was reluctant to part with it. I wasn't superstitious, and didn't really believe that the good luck charm had helped us get into the co-op. And it was filthy and likely covered with germs.
But it seemed churlish to throw something out that the woman had pressed on me so urgently.
So I had cleaned it. When the charm was cleaned, the detail of the image was much clearer. It was an angel, the wings finely etched and long hair curling around a delicate face. The carving was much better than I would have expected from a cheap trinket. I had used some silver polish on both the charm and the chain and discovered that both were made of sterling silver. They were beautiful.
I felt dreadful, thinking that a homeless woman had unwittingly given me something that could be valuable. So I was pleased to see her now.
The woman gestured to me, indicating she wanted me to cross the street. I glanced down at Ben. I didn't want my son to be unaware that some other people weren't as fortunate as we were. But I still wasn't sure I should introduce him to a woman who seemed to have some mental health problems. Could she be dangerous?
Ben pulled his hand away from mine as he noticed a car pulling up to the curb. “Daddy!' he yelled and ran across the grass.
As Dave got out of the car, I saw a sudden look of surprise on his face. He recovered quickly, bending down to catch Ben as he hurled himself into his father's arms. “Daddy, Daddy, you came after all!”
Ben took his father's hand and pulled him toward us, chattering all the time. “Hi, Dave,” I greeted him. “Didn't you have to work after all?”
“Um, yeah, Bec.” He was blushing a little. “Um, I hadn't realized that this was where you'd moved to. I guess I didn't recognize the address. I'm just here to pick up a colleague. I can't stay.
“Daddy, we're going to rake leaves,” Ben was saying. “Do you know how to rake leaves? Can you show me how?”
Dave bent down to his son's level. “I can't stay, Ben. I told you I had to work.”
“But I want to show you my new room. And Grandpa and Maui want to see you. Can't you stay, just for a minute?”
“Sure, for a minute. Why don't you show me this new room of yours?”
I opened the front door for them but didn't follow them back upstairs. Something was going on with Dave and I wanted to think about it. “Dad's upstairs, so he can let you in. Ben, you show Daddy the way to our new place.”
The woman who had given me the pendant was gone. I was about to cross the street to look for her when the front door opened and a woman hurried out.
She was pretty, probably in her late fifties, with dark hair and a round, rosy face. She was dressed in an outfit that was very similar to one Gwen, the president, had worn yesterday. Her loose linen pants and T-shirt were a lavender shade, covered with a short-sleeved knit top in a slightly darker shade. Silver earrings, set with amethysts, hung from her earlobes, and rows of silver bangles clinked together on one wrist. The outfit was similar to Gwen's but somehow it looked very different. The loose flowing layers had glided over Gwen's tall, thin frame. Similar wide-legged pants made this woman look shorter and wider than she actually was.
But her warm smile made her look lovely. As she approached, I could smell a sweet, flowery scent.
I had thought about what to wear to the work party. I wanted to make a good impression on my new neighbors. But it seemed silly to dress up to do garden work.
I had settled for beige capris and a T-shirt in a spring green. My canvas slip-on shoes were the same beige as the capris, with some light green trim. I had kept some of my mother's gardening equipment, and I managed to find a pair of gardening gloves and a trowel. I didn't have a rake, but I assumed the co-op would have the appropriate equipment.
“Are you here for the gardening work party?” she asked. When I nodded, she went on, a little breathlessly. “You just moved in to 505, right? I'm Mariana. I live next door.”
As I introduced myself, I realized she was the woman I'd seen on her balcony the day I first looked at the apartment.
“Have the others already started?” I asked. “Les said the gardening committee was organizing the work. Are they out back?”
“Oh, Rebecca . . . I think Les gets a little enthusiastic when he talks about the co-op. He really likes the idea, but I think his view of the co-op is more what he wishes it would be, rather than what it's really like.”
"So, what's it really like?” I wondered.
“Well, this work party? It's probably just us.”
Just us?
“Yeah. Gwen, the president, might come. But the others? Probably not. You see, we have a lot of members living in this building, more than a hundred. But a few of them moved in when the co-op first got started more than thirty years ago. They're loyal members, but they're getting older. They're not coming out to work parties the way they might have done in the past. And some of the newer members just want an affordable place to live. They're too busy or just not interested in doing much around the co-op.”
“Oh. It's just that Les described it as a real community, with everyone involved. He made it sound so special.”
“Well, like I said, Les sort of looks at the co-op through rose-colored glasses. It's not really like that. But it's not really a problem for the work party. We hire people to do most of the maintenance. But some of us like to do some gardening, and we do a bit around here from time to time.”
She smiled warmly. “I always wanted a real garden, more than just balcony plants. I enjoy that. But I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression. You don't have to do this if you don't want to.”
My mother had loved gardening. I hadn't shared that with her when she was alive, but somehow I wanted to learn more about it. Besides, it would be great to be outside.
“It's a beautiful day,” I answered. “Let's go and garden!”
Mariana showed me where the rakes and gardening equipment were stored. There was even a child-sized rake Ben could use. By the time we returned to the front yard, Dave and Ben were back. Both looked pretty subdued.
Dave muttered that he had to go get his colleague and went back inside the building. I introduced Mariana to my son. Ben looked down at the ground, a little shy with strangers.
“You look like a pretty strong guy,” Mariana said. “I bet we'll be able to get through the gardening in half the time, with you helping.”
“I help Mommy and Grandpa a lot,” Ben answered. “I am strong. You want to see my muscles?” Ben flexed his arm, showing off his biceps the way his father had shown him.
“Wow, you are strong. Well, let's put you to work.”
It was still early in the season, so there weren't a lot of fallen leaves. But we set to work with vigor.
Ben spent most of his time raking up small piles and scattering them again, but we soon managed to create a reasonable pile.
“You know what the reward is for guys who rake up piles of leaves?” Mariana asked my son, who shook his head. “They get to jump in the pile!”
She demonstrated, hopping onto the edge of the pile, scattering only a few of the leaves we'd gathered.
Ben was more enthusiastic, throwing himself in the center of the pile and tossing the leaves around him. He did that a couple of times. Mariana and I raked the pile back together after each of his jumps.
“You're pretty good with kids,” I said. “Do you have children?”
She smiled. “My son, and one grandson. But they're back east right now, near Ottawa. I don't get to see them as often as I'd like to but I'm hoping they'll move back to Vancouver soon.”
Ben was still jumping in the leaves. “Come on, Mom. You try it,” he was saying, when his father returned.
"Daddy!” Ben yelled. “We're raking leaves, and then we can jump in them. Want to watch me jump in the leaves? It's Mommy's turn now, but then you can try it!”
There was a woman with Dave. The colleague he had mentioned, I assumed. She was what my father would call a pocket Venus. She was tiny, barely five feet tall, with soft waves of very light blond hair falling to below her shoulders. Her eyes were large and surprisingly dark, almost black, with delicate brows arching over them and thick eyelashes that surely couldn't be real.
She was simply dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but the jeans were obviously designer and fit her curves closely. She looked delicate, but her fitted T-shirt revealed deep cleavage and breasts anything but elfin. They looked as artificial as her eyelashes, I thought snidely.
I knew I was being catty. This woman made my own body—which I had considered slim, fit and not un-sexy up to that moment—look boyish and angular. I also felt huge, which was an unfamiliar experience.
I gave myself a mental shake and smiled a greeting at her.
“Bec, this is Cara,” Dave was saying. “Cara, Rebecca's my ex. She just moved into this building.”
Cara shook my hand, smiling prettily. “What a coincidence, you moving into my building. Dave's mentioned you, and he's certainly told me all about your big boy here.” She smiled at Ben, who ignored her. I guess her charms only worked on men once they reached puberty.
“Ben, say hello to Cara. She works with Daddy.”
I thought I saw a look of surprise on Cara's face, but I was focused on my son. Ben usually had pretty good manners. My father had taught him to shake hands, much to the amusement of some of his friends. But today he just muttered, “Hello,” over his shoulder and went back to raking leaves again.
Calling to his father to watch him, he took his small rake and industriously raked the pile back together quickly.
“This is Mariana, one of our new neighbors,” I told Dave. “I guess you already know her.” I said to Cara.
“Oh, yes, I know Mariana,” she said. I thought she started to frown, but then she dimpled again and waggled her fingers at her. “Hi. Sorry, I couldn't join the work party but, as you see, I had plans. Glad you've got some help.” She glanced across the lawn at the rusty motor home and then looked back at Mariana. “Why is that thing still here?” she asked, looking at the vehicle with distaste.
Mariana shrugged. Dry leaves were starting to pile on the roof of the vehicle, making it look like it was going to turn into compost, not drive away. “It's not supposed to be there. It's too big to park on the street. I guess Les will deal with it on Monday, if it's still there,” she said.
“How long have you been at the Sun?'” I asked Cara, referring to the paper where Dave worked. “You must have started after I left.”
I thought she was taking a long time to answer a straightforward question, but we were interrupted by Ben.
“Mommy, Daddy, you can jump now. I raked the leaves up again. I did a really good job!”
“I can see that. But we should get on our way,” Dave said. “See ya, Bec. Goodbye, my man,” he said, bending down to Ben's height. “We'll do something real cool next weekend, I promise.”
“Okay, Daddy,” he whispered, looking down. He went back to his raking.
“Umm . . . He was supposed to have Ben this weekend,” I explained to Mariana, “but he has to work.”
We went back to raking, but the mood was spoiled. We started to bag the leaves for the compost bins behind the building.
Dave and Cara headed to the black sports car he had bought when we split up. Ben chose that moment to burst into tears, and I bent to comfort him. Looking over his head, I noticed that Dave was rolling a bright pink suitcase with hard, shiny sides.
Dave might have been heading out of town to cover a tournament or an away game of a local hockey or football team. And maybe the paper would send two reporters, but it seemed unlikely. I suspected that Dave wasn't working at all this weekend.
We were divorced, and what Dave did didn't matter to me. But I would be angry if I found he was missing out on time with his son to spend the weekend with a woman.
Dave loaded the pink suitcase into the trunk and helped Cara into the car with care he had never shown me, even when we were first dating.
I leaned over to give my son a hug and didn't see Dave drive off. But I did hear the door of the motorhome slam back with a loud crash. I looked up to see a large man climbing down from inside and rushing towards us.
“Guess you didn't know I could hear you and that other bitch talking about my motorhome, eh?” he yelled. “I don't know why you people can't learn to mind your own business.”
He swung the toolkit he was carrying in a large arc, barely missing us. I jumped back, but Mariana didn't flinch. She answered him more calmly than I would have thought possible. “Now, Aaron, you should know why people are upset about it, but you can talk to Les or the board members, if you really don't understand.”
“Yeah, like that's gonna happen,” he snarled. But he did keep moving, storming past us and into the building.
“Who was that?” I asked, my voice trembling a little.
“Oh, Aaron. He lives in the co-op. And he owns the motorhome, as you can probably tell.”
"I thought he was going to hit you.”
“Oh, he mostly just yells,” she said, calmly. “He can make a lot of noise, but I've never seen him actually hit anyone. And he'll usually back down if anyone stands up to him. Notice he didn't come out while your husband was still around.”
She laughed, but when she turned to look at the motorhome parked on the street, her face turned white.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “That was upsetting. And it's getting hot out. Maybe it's time to go inside.”
“No, I'm fine. I just thought . . . But it's been . . .” She had been staring intently at the street, but she looked back at me and managed a faint smile. “Yes, you're right. Let's just take these bags around back. I think it's time to go in.”