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THE SCENT OF water, from the Hudson River, rose lazily up the rocky face of the cliffside palisade. The sun, beaming down, warmed everything it touched. A gentle breeze caressed all within its path as Suzanne Grolier watched the two strong moving men carry in a long, flowered couch.
Suzanne’s watch read two-twenty. The moving people were right on schedule. They’d arrived promptly at eight and had started unloading the long red and white van. They’d worked steadily, taking only a half-hour break for lunch, and were almost finished.
Yesterday, the telephone and electric companies hooked up service while Suzanne spent the afternoon in the house, cleaning and prepping for the move. As she’d worked, she’d gotten five phone calls. All were in response to the advertisement she’d placed in the local newspaper.
After closing on the house, she’d arranged with the telephone company for her phone number. Then she’d placed an advertisement for a secretary/girl Friday to run in the Sunday paper. Yesterday—Monday—she’d gotten the responses. Four of the respondents had come by in the morning, while the moving people were working. The fifth woman was due momentarily. She hoped this one would be better than the morning’s batch.
Two more moving men emerged from the truck carrying her bedroom dresser. A lump grew in her throat. It was one of four pieces of furniture she’d brought with her from France.
Stop! Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and shook off the memory and walked to the house.
When she reached the door, the phone rang. “Naturally,” she muttered, turning and racing into the room off the living room. This was to be her office. She picked up the phone sitting on the carpet.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Suzanne. It’s Arthur.”
Suzanne paused a moment before responding to her stepbrother. “How are you?”
“Fine. I promised I’d call when I got back. I’m back.”
After buying the house, she’d called Arthur to let him and her stepfather know she’d returned to Springvale, her hometown. Then she’d invited them both for dinner. Arthur had been unable to accept because of business commitments.
“I also asked you and Father to pick a date to come over for dinner.”
“Whenever is good for you,” he said.
“Sunday evening, seven o’clock?”
“Will you be set up? I don’t want to inconvenience you with the move and all.”
“Everything will be ready. It is not an inconvenience,” she added, trying not to feel put out because she was coaxing her own stepbrother.
“We’ll be there.”
“Wonderful. See you at seven on Sunday.”
After hanging up, she stood still, trying to understand why Arthur was being so hesitant. Could it be that he doesn’t want to come over at all? Or, did I hurt him more than I thought?
She ended the conversation with herself when one of the moving men came into the room with a desk chair. He placed it by the wall and went out. Seconds later, two men brought in her desk. She directed them to set it in front of the room’s only window.
Fifteen minutes later, with the rest of the office’s furniture in place, Suzanne nodded approvingly. The furniture was made of pale woods and blended well with the off-white painted walls. The overall effect of the new office was light and airy.
Leaving the room, Suzanne went up to the second floor, to the master bedroom. It was a full en-suite with windows along two of the bedroom’s walls, and a large open sitting and dressing area that separated the bathroom from the bedroom.
One sitting room wall had two large windows. The other wall was the bedroom’s walk-in closet, running the entire length of the sitting room.
The men had set up her treadmill and slant board in the sitting room, as directed. A small flat screen was placed between the two windows and faced the treadmill.
The bedroom furniture was also positioned the way she had directed. The simple pencil post bed was in the center of the far wall. The matching night tables framed the bed. The large dresser was across from it, and her vanity was set caddy-corner between the dresser and the large window wall.
Again, Suzanne glanced at the furniture she’d had shipped from France. Although shipping it was very expensive, she’d refused to part with it. Now, she steeled herself against the sadness trying to slink into her mind.
“We’re done, ma’am,” called one of the moving men from behind her. “I need your signature.”
Suzanne turned. He extended a clipboard to her. She took it, read the disclaimer notice, and signed the receipt.
He pulled off the second copy and handed it to her. “If you find any hidden damage, fill out the back and send it in. The office will contact you and make arrangements for repairs or replacement.”
“Thank you.” Suzanne followed the man down to the front door. When the man opened the door, Suzanne saw a petite woman, with short dark hair framing an attractive face, just reaching for the doorbell. She appeared about thirty-two or so, around the same age as Suzanne.
For an instant, there was a tug of familiarity at the sight of the woman’s face. “Can I help you?”
The woman’s eyes fixed on her face for several seconds before she said, “Mrs. Grolier?”
Suzanne nodded. “Yes?”
“We spoke yesterday. I’m Dana Cody. We have an appointment.”
“Yes, we do,” Suzanne agreed, growing uncomfortable at the way the woman was staring at her. All in all, it did not bode well for the interview.
“Come in, please.” Suzanne stepped aside to let the woman pass. Inside, she brought her to the living room, pointed to the floral couch, and sat in the matching chair across from her.
As the woman settled herself, Suzanne caught the late recognition flooding her features. Dana Cody’s mouth opened, and her jaw hung slack for a second. Suzanne cringed inwardly and waited for those old familiar words to come. 'You’re Suzanne! You’re... ‘Baby’. Wow! I used to watch And Baby Makes Five! all the time. You were so cute. I loved you!' And no sooner had she thought it, then the woman’s lips moved.
“You... Ya... You’re Suzanne... Oh My! Go—”
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