Jonathan. Suddenly Mrs. Sanchez was there, touching his shoulder. Sit down. Eat. You need sustenance. She blessed the food, with a little pause before saying amen and making the sign of the cross. Had she added an extra silent prayer on his behalf?
It was odd. The only child of a wealthy couple, JT hadnt felt guilty that he was disappointing his parents by not going to law school and following in his fathers footsteps. The elder Trelauney stubbornly spoke of a father-son practice even though JT had no interest in becoming an attorney. Instead of wasting his time arguing, JT had simply continued painting, ignoring his fathers scorn over the pointless scribblings. Youre on the cusp of manhood, son. Act like it! Youre not some finger-painting toddler. Yet JT had refused to feel ashamed. Now, by not painting, he felt he was disappointing Sean and Mrs. Sanchezpeople who were better to him than he deservedand that bothered him far more than his familys disapproval ever had.
Though he wasnt particularly hungry, he forced himself to take a bite of the enchiladas and was immediately rewarded with a spicy blend of rich flavors. This is really good.
I believe you meant great.
I believe I did.
She reached for her glass of water. You are a good boy, Jonathan. Even if you are a slob.
He surprised them both with a genuine chuckle.
Mrs. Sanchez looked pleased by this progress. Mr. C. tells me that someone has moved in across from you. Im glad. Its too quiet up here, with 3A unoccupied and that flight attendant in 3B gone half the time.
JT thought of that moment yesterday when hed heard a baby shrieking, and had flung open his door. He still didnt know exactly why hed reacted that way or what hed expected to find. Though there had been only a handful of people on a floor that was often deserted except for him, it had sounded as if a deafening mob had descended. Hed heard plaintive shouts of Mom clearly directed at Kenzie. Was the baby hers, too? He didnt think so, but he hadnt stuck around long enough to inquire.
He winced at the memory and turned to his dinner guest. It looks like my quiet days are over. The new neighbor lady has kids. Two, maybe three.
Two, Mrs. Sanchez confirmed. I asked Mr. C. He also mentioned she has no husband.
Was Kenzie divorced? Widowed, like himself? Technically, the presence of kids didnt require a husband in the first place. Maybe shed never been married. There could still be a serious boyfriend in the mix. JT experienced a funny twinge in his chest he didnt want to examine too closely.
Feeling that he was being watched, he jerked his head up and found Mrs. Sanchez studying him. He didnt like the speculative gleam in her eyes.
No, he said automatically.
She blinked. I dont know what you mean.
Deciding this was as good a time as any to take her advice about tidying up, he rose and went to the dishwasher.
You told me she had kids, Mrs. Sanchez said. So youve met them?
Just her. Briefly. Despite his attempt to sound dismissive, the memory was vivid.
Kenzie Green had looked like the wreck he felt like on most days, yet thered been determination glinting in her eyes and an unmistakable lifting of her chin when shed stood to regather her belongings. Hed had the impression that life had knocked her down before and she was resolved to get back on her feet as many times as necessary.
Well, Mrs. Sanchez prompted. What is she like?
I dont know. About your height, blondish. I didnt exchange life stories with her.
No, Mrs. Sanchez said, her voice disconcertingly gentle. You wouldnt have, would you?
He stiffened. If youre so curious about Kenzie, you could have taken her the enchiladas instead of knocking on my door. The churlishness in his tone reminded him of his self-important father, and JT flinched.
But Mrs. Sanchez held herself above his rudeness with reproachful aplomb. I fully intend to take her a dish this weekend and welcome her. I thought it better not to show up on her doorstep her first day, when she might be feeling tired and overwhelmed. I hate to intrude, she added with a faintly challenging air.
JT walked her to the door. Were lucky to have you in the building, Mrs. Sanchez.
You certainly are.
He hesitated before saying goodbye, unsure how to ask what was on his mind without putting ideas in her head. Mrs. Sanchez herself had said that, if any of her grown daughters had been single when JT moved in, she would have sent her up to deliver the homemade soup. So far, for all her fussing that he needed a womans touch in his life, shed lacked a spare female to nudge his way, deeming the flight attendant down the hall too frequently absent. Now there was a seemingly available woman living less than two yards from his front door. Surely Mrs. Sanchez knew better than to
You werent planning to mention me to her, were you? he demanded, unable to help himself.
Hasnt she already met you for herself? What possible reason could I have for bringing you into the conversation? Is she some sort of art critic?
He rocked back on his heels. Youve been known to spout the opinion that I would benefit from female companionship.
Ive also said you should eat more regularly, clean up this disorderly pigsty and go back to painting. Why would I inflict you on some girl who is already burdened with raising two children alone? Jonathan, mijo, youre probably the last thing she needs.
He stole a glance over her shoulder at Kenzies door and tried to take stock of what he could possibly offer any woman at this point in his life. Youre undoubtedly right.
ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Kenzie excused herself to go downstairs and check the mail. She wasnt expecting anything other than standard Dear Occupant fare, but shed been going a little stir crazy in the apartment. The kids seemed louder than normal today, and she couldnt chuck them out into a backyard to play. Showing the resilience of youth, they were back in better spirits. During a televised Braves game the night before, Drew had allowed that maybe living in Atlanta could be kind of cool.
Punching the elevator button, Kenzie considered the evening ahead. Would their finances, currently stretched by moving expenses and utility deposits, allow dinner out and a movie? Maybe if they went to the movie first, taking advantage of matinee prices, and eschewed concessions, then drank tap water at dinner rather than paying for sodasShe reached the bottom floor and dug in her pocket for the small silver key Mr. C. had given her. This was the first time shed checked to make sure it worked.
She gathered the handful of mail, sorting through it in the elevator on her way back up. Coupons, catalogs, the bill that her cell phone company had thoughtfully forwarded so that she wouldnt miss this months opportunity to pay them. One yellow envelope was addressed to Jonathan Trelauney. Previous occupant? When she noticed the 3C, she realized the mailman must have just dropped it in her slot by mistake.
Jonathan Trelauney must be JT. His full name sounded familiar, but after dealing with so many people through the bank, eventually all names caused her moments of déjà vu. Shed encountered nearly half a dozen account holders with her sisters name.
When she stepped off the elevator, Kenzie glanced at JTs envelope. Shed been unpacking all day and was dusty. Her hair was tidy, pulled back in the habitual French twist she favored for work, but she didnt have any makeup
Jonathan Trelauney must be JT. His full name sounded familiar, but after dealing with so many people through the bank, eventually all names caused her moments of déjà vu. Shed encountered nearly half a dozen account holders with her sisters name.
When she stepped off the elevator, Kenzie glanced at JTs envelope. Shed been unpacking all day and was dusty. Her hair was tidy, pulled back in the habitual French twist she favored for work, but she didnt have any makeup
Oh, for pitys sake! Handing the man his misdirected mail does not require mascara and perfume. Did she even own perfume? She couldnt remember the last time shed treated herself to anything more luxurious than scented body wash.
Annoyed with herself, she rapped on his door a bit more curtly than shed intended. At first she wasnt sure anyone would answer, but then she heard footsteps on the other side. JT appeared in the doorway, unshaven and shirtless!
Kenzie had taken a breath as the door opened; now she choked on her own oxygen. It took all her discipline not to let her gaze dwell on his leanly muscled torso or the dusting of dark hair across his broad chest. Iis this a bad time?
He rubbed a hand across his face. I was sleeping on the couch.
Oh. It seemed like a practically sinful indulgence, snoozing smack-dab in the middle of the afternoon, but then he didnt have two kids bouncing around and a zillion boxes to unpack. I didnt mean to disturb you.
He regarded her with heavy-lidded eyes. Did you need something?
Just bringing you this. It was in my mailbox. Their fingers brushed when he took the envelope, and she told herself that such a platonic touch would ordinarily not make her light-headed. It was the proximity of all that naked skin making her heart flutter. He must have a naturally golden complexion. He wasnt pale, but his color didnt seem to come from a tan, either. And, good grief, was she staring again?
Because she was actually staring, she noticed a splotch of dark violet paint near his rib cage. Suddenly the name clicked. Jonathan Trelauney! I know you. Of you, rather. Youre an artist.
JT was startled by two thingsthree, truthfully, but he was trying to ignore the unexpected sensation that had washed through him when their hands met. He didnt think the reaction came from the fleeting contact so much as her expression. Something akin to desire had flared in her eyes, and it had rocked him. No woman had looked at him like that in a long time. Hormones aside, hed been surprised that Kenzie had heard of him. While his work had been renowned in certain circles, he was hardly a household name. Second, the way shed said Youre an artist had been filled with horrified discovery. She might as well have pronounced Youre a leper.
He frowned. Do you follow art? It seemed the only logical conclusion for recognizing his name, yet didnt explain her negative reaction.
No. My hippie parents follow art. Ive absorbed a few details here and there during the rare visit with them. Though she kept her voice matter-of-fact, disdain leaked into her expression. The warmth in her earlier gaze had cooled completely.
Hippie parents? Ah. I see.
Her hands went to her hips. Just what do you see?
Your parents were artistic, touchy-feely types, and you he hazarded a guess rebelled by growing up to be ultraconservative.
Her burst of laughter caught him off guard. Whatever you do, dont give up art for psychiatry, because you couldnt be more wrong. My younger sister, Ann, was the conservative in the family. I married a musician at eighteen.
He glanced at her baggy shirt, sensible sneakers and pulled back hair. You married a musician?
Yeah. And by nineteen, I had two babies to feed and clothe, so I reevaluated certain lifestyle choices.
JT wished she looked cynical instead of vulnerable. He feltwell, he wasnt sure, but she was a virtual stranger. He shouldnt be required to feel anything on her behalf. If hed been more awake when he answered the door, his normal barriers in place, he would have said thanks for the mail and dismissed her without further conversation.
He could always try that now. Well, thanks for the
Behind her, the door to 3D opened, and two kids stuck their heads out, seeming surprised to see their mother talking to some shirtless dude across the hall.
Mom! This from the girl, who looked scandalized. The boy glared silently in JTs direction.
Kenzie didnt help matters, blushing as if shed been caught in the midst of something illicit. What are you guys doing out here?
We were worried about you. The daughter fisted her hands on her hips. Mini-Kenzie. You said you were going to run get the mail, then you didnt come back. For all we knew, the elevator was stuck between floors!
The boy looked faintly disappointed. I had this plan for prying the doors open. Whos he?
Kids, this is our across-the-hall neighbor, Jonathan Trelauney.
JT, he told the children. Nice to meet you.
These are my twins, Kenzie said. Drew and Leslie.
Not the identical kind of twins, Drew interjected.
JT bit back a smile. I noticed.
Why arent you wearing a shirt? The boys tone was thick with suspicion. Doesnt your air conditioner work? If youre hot, it would be smart to wear shorts instead of jeans.
Kenzies head whipped around as she shot her son a warning glance. Use your manners, Drew.
But, Mom, I was just
Lets get back in our own apartment and leave Mr. Trelauney alone.
Yes, JT thought with relief. Alone would be good. He attempted his goodbye again. Well, thanks
The elevator ding sounded, reminding him that Mrs. Sanchez had said she would bring Kenzie food and an official welcome today.
forthemail, he blurted. Then he shoved his door closed.
He caught a glimpse of Kenzies mouth falling open. She was probably taken aback by his rudeness. If shed known he was saving her from possible matchmaking attempts, she might have appreciated his efforts. A moment later, there was another knock. JT, trying to learn from his mistakes, was slow to answer.
Its Sean, his friend called from the hall. I know youre home. I just saw you shut the door in some poor womans face.
JT ushered him in. Dont judge me. Its complicated. You want a beer? I could use a beer.
Sean, dapper in a button-down shirt and slacks, and making JT feel like the Wild Man of Borneo in comparison, frowned. Do you even have beer in the apartment?
Umno. On his wedding anniversary, back in February, JT had gotten stinking blind drunk. After that, the thought of booze had made him sick for months and hed avoided keeping any around. Can I get you some lemonade?
All right, but only one, I have to drive, Sean deadpanned. Tell me about the hottie in the hall.
You cant call Kenzie a hottie, JT objected as he pulled a pitcher out of the refrigerator. She has two kids.
The boy and girl? She doesnt look old enough to have kids that age.
JT recalled what shed said about marrying as a teenager, but didnt share the information with his friend; it seemed like a violation of privacy. Why exactly are you here? Please dont tell me its to ask if Im painting anything. I was up until dawn, sketching and mixing colors on a canvas until my vision blurred.