Prospect Street (16 page)

“So far, Pavel, it hasn't been much fun.”

He wasn't a man who paid attention to emotions or personal philosophy, but his response came easily. “The world's going to open up to you in all kinds of new ways.”

“Some of which I won't like.”

“I'm sure. But more you will.”

“You're an optimist, aren't you?”

“I don't dig deeply enough to classify myself as anything in particular. I'm at most an inch deep.”

“The inch you show others, maybe.”

That surprised him. It seemed to surprise her, too. She covered quickly. “Thank you again for dinner. For the flowers. For keeping the house from burning down.”

It was time to leave. He held out his hand. “I'll come by in the morning with those names I mentioned.”

She took it for a brief handshake. “Then thanks for that, too.”

They walked to the front door in silence. He didn't speak again until he was standing on her porch. “Sleep well. Save all your worries for daylight.”

“Sleep well, Pavel.” She closed the door behind him.

Pavel took the steps to the sidewalk.

“Pavel Quinn?”

He looked up to the second story of the house next door. Dottie Lee Fairbanks stood outlined in the open window. They didn't exchange a word. She slowly shook her head before she disappeared inside.

P
avel didn't sleep well that night. Every time he closed his eyes he visualized Faith as her oven died in a blaze of glory. This latest loss certainly wouldn't do her in, but somewhere in the rising panic he'd seen an expression he recognized. An “oh-sure-kick-me-while-I'm-down” look that continued to tug at him as the night unfolded.

Finally he gave up on sleep and went to his computer. An hour later he had several kitchen plans laid out for her using the original footprint of the house so that the preservation inspector wouldn't nab her. She might not be able to do all the work now, but she could show the electrician a master plan and work from there. He printed out lists of reputable contractors, Web sites that might be helpful, and businesses that had fair prices and good service. Then, finally, he was able to sleep.

He was on Faith's doorstep early the next morning, double-parked in front of her house, dressed for work and already late for a meeting. But no one expected Pavel to be on time. Punctuality was not one of his vices.

She opened the door, and he held out the folder to forestall
chitchat. “I did some designs for you.” He explained about the printouts, the wiring, the lists, then raised his hand in farewell.

“Uh, good morning, Pavel.” Faith looked as if she'd slept better than he had.

He watched her gaze travel quickly down to his hiking boots, then out to his car, a six-year-old Subaru with all of D.C.'s requisite traffic dents. “Friday casual on Monday?”

“Friday casual is dressy at our office.”

“That's a job I'd love. No panty hose.”

He took a moment he didn't have. “Are you looking for a job? What do you have a background in?”

“European history. Seventeenth century, mostly, and we both know there's a terrific market for that.” She clutched the folder to her chest. “This is so nice of you. You've gone to a lot of trouble. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He would have checked his watch for effect, only he probably wasn't wearing one. He had several, including a Rolex his board of directors had given him one Christmas, but the last time he'd worn it, he had forgotten to take it off when he plastered a wall, and now the lens was spattered.

“Good luck with the electrician. Tell him I recommended him, and, oh, I almost forgot.” He took off down the steps and opened the back door of his car, returning with a wire cage.

“It's a live trap. You can catch the rat without hurting him. That way, if you get the cat instead, you can just let her back out again.”

“What do I do with Lefty once he's in here?”

“Faith, you're in trouble if you've named the rat.”

“This from the man who names pigeons?”

He offered it. “Let's just say you have a variety of choices, most of which your children shouldn't watch.”

Faith held the trap by her fingertips, as if she was afraid it might spring any moment. “How does it work?”

“Alex will figure it out in a heartbeat.”

“You'd better get going. You're late, aren't you?”

“It's expected.” He raised a hand in farewell. She was still
standing there, trap under her arm, the folder to her chest, when he drove away.

 

Faith expected to wait days for the electrician, but when she mentioned Pavel's name he promised to come right away. Portly and mustachioed, he arrived just after lunch, investigated, made menacing noises under his breath, said words that had never echoed through a Bronson house, and looked over Pavel's plans with a practiced eye. He made a few swipes with his pen and handed them back to Faith. “I'll get you an estimate.”

“This is an emergency, isn't it?”

“I'll drop it off on my way home tonight. I can have somebody out here to start on Wednesday.”

“Start?”

“There's no Band-Aid to make this better. If we do it right, it's going to take some time, but you don't have a choice. Not if you want to use your kitchen again, and not if you want to be sure the rest of the house is up to code.”

Faith was glad the students had moved out before disaster struck.

After the electrician left, she studied Pavel's plans more closely. He had printed out three. The most ambitious called for extending the kitchen into the eating area to enlarge it, knocking out the wall that hid an unused rear stairwell as well as the utility room, then putting in a breakfast nook with French doors looking over a small deck leading down to the back garden.

Since moving to Georgetown, Faith had only been in the garden briefly. It was narrow and surprisingly long, walled in stone and rotting timbers, and vaguely terraced, since it sloped toward M Street. The only entry was through the basement.

At the moment the garden was a wilderness of weeds, deadwood and English ivy that made topiaries of everything in its path. Entire trees were lost under its broad reaching canopy, and what the English ivy hadn't claimed, Virginia creeper and poi
son ivy had taken as their own. Luckily kudzu was still foreign to the area.

The yard had been swallowed and digested. Before anything else could be done, any planning or planting or nurturing, Faith's job was simply to uproot and remove everything that was still green.

She hadn't given much thought to the exterior, but she saw the merits of Pavel's design. Right now the view of the river and city beyond was wasted. If she changed the constellation of the kitchen and built a deck, she and the children could take full advantage. And if they had easy access to the yard, they could fix it up. David had always been the gardener in their family, but Faith thought she might like the challenges of this smaller space.

Roses and dogwoods. Azaleas and flowering bulbs.

“I'm hungry.” Alex wandered in. He had already eaten an apple and two granola bars, the best she could provide without refrigeration or a stove.

“Remy's still asleep. Go wake her up and get dressed. We'll go out for breakfast.”

But Remy had gone out on her own.

 

Remy knew she wouldn't be able to sneak out of the row house on a regular basis. Her mother might be blind when it came to the people she loved, but Faith wasn't exactly stupid. She would be watching Remy from now on, unless she was convinced her daughter was repentant.

So Remy planned to stop on the way home from Colin's house to buy muffins at Booeymongers. She would simply tell Faith she'd wanted to make up for yesterday's disappearance. She even left a note on her bed, in case anyone discovered she was gone. If they went to Booeymongers looking for her before she got there, she would tell them she'd decided to check a couple of other places first.

When she arrived at Colin's house, the door was ajar. She stuck her head inside and shouted “hello,” but nobody an
swered. Inside, she called out again. A bare-chested, bleary-eyed Enzio drifted out of the kitchen. Remy's fourteen-year-old heart hammered faster at the sight of bronzed skin and threadbare jeans low on his hips. It was way cool, like watching MTV live.

“What're you doing here?” He yawned. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. Nobody else is up?”

“Selim's gone somewhere. Colin spent the night out. Paul…” He shrugged.

She wondered if this meant they were alone. Being alone with Enzio felt very adult. “I just dropped by to say hi.”

He didn't blink. He looked bored.

“Hi,” she repeated.

“Hi yourself.” He took a cigarette pack out of his back pocket. “Are you always this cheerful?”

She couldn't remember what it felt like to be cheerful. “I guess I'd better go.”

“What's your hurry?”

“Things to do. You know.”

“Want some coffee?”

Faith never offered her coffee at home. “You got some made?”

“Yeah. Ready in a minute.” He dropped to the sofa. She realized she was probably supposed to join him there. She considered, weighing the possibilities of discovery against the delicious rewards of spending time with him.

“You have a job?” he asked.

She lowered herself to the sofa, sitting forward, because she really couldn't stay more than a few minutes. “No. Do you like yours?”

“It's okay.”

She didn't know how to talk to him. With boys her own age, she knew exactly where she stood. Most of them were thrilled to have her attention. But Enzio was a different story.

“I sell a lot,” he said. “I can sell anything, because I don't really care if people buy that shit or not. You know?”

She didn't, but she nodded anyway.

“They come to me because they know I don't care,” he said.

She was beginning to get worried. It was late enough that someone at home might just knock on her bedroom door. “Do they pay you more if you sell more?”

“Yeah. Crazy, huh? I sell more because I don't care, and the store pays me more because they do.”

That sounded very perceptive to her. “Want me to check on the coffee?”

“Yeah. I take sugar. Lots.”

The mess in the kitchen was worse than at home, and Colin and his friends hadn't just moved in. She washed two dirty cups in the sink, then looked in the cabinet, where she found a bag of sugar spilling over into a stream of tiny red ants. She scooped ant-free spoonfuls into the mugs, then filled them with coffee. The milk in the refrigerator smelled okay, so she added a slug to hers. Back in the living room, she handed Enzio his mug. He nodded for her to join him on the sofa again.

“Why don't you have a job? Your mommy and daddy won't let you?”

She heard the sneer in his voice, but she couldn't tell him girls of fourteen were lucky to get babysitting or dog walking gigs. “Oh, they think I need to spend my time studying.” She sipped the coffee and nearly gagged. It was like drinking melted ice cream.

“Aren't you any good in school?”

“They want me to go to a great college.”

“College?” He made a derisive sound. “It's not what it's cracked up to be. The professors are off doing their own thing. You're lucky to see them at a lecture. Nobody thinks.” He tapped the side of his head. “I think.”

She was impressed. Enzio was so different from the boys she knew that he seemed like another species. “You're not going back?” She looked for a place to set her cup. She couldn't stomach another swallow.

“I'm going to open my own store. I know what sells and
what doesn't. I'm going to get enough money to start my own business.”

“How?” She didn't know anything about clothing stores, but anyone could figure out that starting one would be expensive.

“I have my ways. Clothes aren't the only thing I sell.” He lifted one heavy black brow in emphasis.

For a moment she didn't know what he meant. A long moment. Then she realized he was talking about drugs. Enzio sold drugs.

She started to get to her feet, but he held her back, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Don't worry. I don't sell anything they'll really bust you for. How old did you say you were?”

“Old enough to wonder why you'd sell drugs when you could get caught.”

“Because the money's great.” He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe she was that stupid.

“So what? You could be a hit man, too, but would you?”

“What planet are you from? Nobody's hurt by what I do. They smoke a little weed and feel a little better. I offer a service, like a doctor. Better than Prozac. Not so expensive, either.”

She had grown up believing that drugs in any form were the devil's work. Both at school and at home she had been taught to “just say no” to anything that ran contrary to her parents' teachings. But other things she had believed were being tested faster than she could draw conclusions. These days her “What Would Jesus Do” bracelet resided at the bottom of her T-shirt drawer, because the answer to that question now seemed hopelessly out of reach.

Enzio looked intrigued. “Don't tell me you've never tried any.”

She got to her feet, and this time he let her. “Do the others know what you do? Colin? Selim?”

“Like they'd care. You don't think they'd sell their own grandmas if they needed the cash? Just lucky for them they don't. Colin's dad owns the biggest car dealership in New Jer
sey. Selim's has three electronics stores. The only reason Selim and his sister work is because the old man thinks they need the experience.”

“I'd better go.”

He laughed. “Hey, was it something I said?”

“No, but I have to get back home.”

“You're a baby. Go back to Mama.”

She was hurt; but too smart to show him. “Yeah, I think I will. At least I won't get arrested there.”

“Nobody's going to arrest me. I know what to sell and how to sell it. You think D.C. cops care about a little chronic? They're after the guys who sell to the cokeheads and the addicts.”

She supposed there was something to be said for that. Excitement seeped into the hollow space left by her father's desertion. Maybe everything she'd been taught was a total lie. Maybe she ought to listen to other people and start thinking for herself. At the moment, though, she needed to think about how to get home without getting into trouble.

She lifted her hand in a flirtatious wave. “Well, I'm out of here. Just don't get arrested today.”

His face lit up in a smile, and she held her breath in wonder. She hadn't been sure Enzio could smile, and she really hadn't imagined anything could be this stunning. She felt herself growing warm all over.

“I won't, little girl.”

She took off for the door, remembering to look both ways for her mother before she inched outside to the sidewalk. She crossed the street and headed toward Booeymongers, hoping no one would glance out the front window of her house.

God hadn't punished her after all. Her family wasn't waiting at the deli when she arrived. She bought muffins for everyone and a latte for her mother before she started home.