The Very Thought of You (28 page)

She opened the front door. The muted whine of a flute drifted from her aunt's apartment. For as long as she could remember, her aunt had faithfully practiced Yoga. Molly did, too, but intermittently. Mostly when stress at the clinic caused her shoulders and neck muscles to cramp. She could use a whole lot of wellness right about now. Something that would raise her consciousness to a higher plane where she wouldn't have to confront anything negative. Only her body had other ideas. Bed beckoned.

“Molly? Is that you?”

The only sound she'd made was the key turning in the lock. Unfortunately, her Aunt Vi had the acute hearing of a wolf. Molly paused outside the open doorway to the apartment. “I was just going upstairs.”

“What are you doing home? Come on inside for a minute.”

Molly walked through the doorway and into a room so dim it was almost as if the gas company had had another blackout. Heavy drapes closed out all but a narrow crack of light. Four lit candles, one in each corner of the room, gave the surroundings an eerie glow. The plaintive sound of the flute floated on the still air and mingled with the scent of burning incense. Her aunt sat with her eyes closed on her yoga mat in the knee to ankle pose, the palms of her hands turned upward.

“Something's wrong. I can sense it. Come over here and tell me about it.”

Molly had forgotten about her aunt's moments of psychic visions. “I don't want to disturb your session. Maybe we can talk later.”

Vi opened her eyes. “I'm making sand candles at Ocean Beach later. I'm down to my last three. Come sit next to me.” She put the tape on pause.

It was useless to try to fend off her aunt. She'd taken on the job of surrogate mother years ago and had become Molly's confidant, friend, and chief advisor. She had a well-honed sixth sense and could cut right to the core of any problem and offer a viable solution. Many times Molly had cried on her shoulder. This wasn't about being called Little Orphan Annie by some jerk at school, though, and then wanting to chop off all her hair. This problem had zoomed right to the top of the seriously crappy list.

Molly sat down on the carpet. She slipped off her shoes and propped her arms on her bent knees. Then she took a few deep breaths and gave a more or less accurate account of what had transpired that morning and how it affected Nick's tenants.

“They're scattered all over the city by now. They could face weeks in a city shelter or an SRO hotel.”

“It won't last forever.” Vi patted her niece's shoulder. “They'll settle into permanent housing eventually. Maybe soon.”

“That depends on Nick.”

“I like him.”

“You do? Why?”

“He struck me as a man who recognizes his duty and does it.”

“You only met him one time. You can't know enough to make a judgment.”

“I felt a connection to him.”

Nowhere near as strong as Molly's. Moisture welled in her eyes, and she blinked it away. She agreed with her aunt, though, that Nick recognized his duties. The day they went to search out affordable apartments, he'd brought her along to his parents' house first. Another man might have bailed out of the post-wedding brunch with some lame excuse. But they'd expected Nick to show up, and he'd worked it into his schedule. That was when Molly first decided she liked him.

“You know I've never pried into your life. I've always trusted your judgment.”

Molly guessed where her aunt headed. “I know.”

Vi changed from the knee to ankle position. She lay on her back, stretched her legs up, and braced her heels against the living room wall. “You have strong feelings for Nick.”

Molly nodded.

“Were you with him last night?”

Her aunt must have heard her sneak in around six that morning. “Yes.”

“You love him.” Not a question but a statement.

Molly nodded again. She bit down hard to staunch tears that threatened to pop up again. It hurt so badly to love a man who didn't love you back.

“Everything will work out.”

“Is that your crystal ball speaking?”

“No, you told me.”

“I told you it will work out with me and Nick? When did I say that?”

“You didn't in so many words. However, you've never fallen so hard or so fast over a man. It means that besides all his other … uh … qualities, the ones that get your juices running, you trust him. You believe he's ethical and that he understands right from wrong. You never would have fallen in love with him otherwise. Would you have wasted five minutes on him if you believed for a minute he'd cheat his tenants?”

“Well, no, but everything's different now.” She had to wonder about those other things, too. Maybe they were just another vibe he'd sent her way to reel her in.

“Listen, Nick will come back into your life, and in such a way it will make Romeo and Juliet look like a kindergarten crush.”

“Oh, great. The last I read, nothing good ever came out of their relationship.”

“Yes, but they had a heck of a ride along the way.”

“I suppose.” Molly rose to her feet and slipped into her shoes. As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she wondered if she'd already been taken for a ride by Nick.

Almost two weeks passed before Molly dredged up the courage to drive down the street to where Nick's construction site loomed. Rather than sit home and brood, she preferred to stay late at the clinic and work on her next event. She didn't need the pain that crimped her heart every time she thought about him. Still, she couldn't totally crush her desire to be close to the place where he spent so much time. Dominique would have called it spirit transference — if you can't be with the one you love, then hover in his shadow. She used to think it all a bunch of nonsense. Yet, here she was, cloaked in the fast-approaching dusk, seeking out his aura. Even in her teens, she'd never done anything so sappy.

Chances he hung around this late were slim to zilch, so she felt confident her little foray would go unnoticed.

Dusk slid into night as she approached the site. Nick's car was parked at the corner across the avenue. How odd. He'd always used the slot alongside his trailer. She crossed the intersection, skulked down in her seat like a spy, and cut a sideways glance at the hybrid in the rearview mirror. The last time she'd played detective, she'd followed him home. Tonight nothing could make her stop. Well, maybe if he waved a white flag and vowed to surrender his heart. He'd also have to furnish proof he'd found safe housing for his tenants and planned to hand over a big payoff. That had about as much chance of happening as the Niners winning the Super Bowl. If she had to choose, she'd put her money on the Niners. Anyway, the car was definitely unoccupied.

She went around the block again and returned to their street and crawled along at a speed slow enough to make a snail happy. Nick no longer had his trailer parked in its usual spot. He'd moved it out onto the street. Since no light showed through the two small windows, she had no way to determine if he was inside. Work at the site had stopped for the day, so she couldn't imagine why he'd hang out in the trailer. Unless he still kept tabs on his building site to forestall any future “accidents.” She pulled in front of the trailer and cut her lights. She let the engine idle.

Ever since the foundation had been dug in the vacant lot that comprised the third parcel of Nick's project, work had progressed on the condo units above. Wood and steel beams outlined five floors of lofts. Dead center, where the apartment building once stood, a gaping hole scarred the earth. Everything had been totally obliterated. Molly sucked in her breath and didn't release it until her head buzzed from lack of oxygen. It didn't seem possible. The building was gone, expunged like a tumor. Sadness enveloped her.

She put the car into park and leaned back against the headrest. The corner condos showed even more progress where once there had been only naked wood and steel. They climbed five stories above the street. Metal screens sheathed the front section of each unit. Reflected in the glow from the streetlamps, they shimmered like silver. What she imagined would become clear glass walls waited to be installed behind them. The design was innovative, the form simple. She had to give Nick credit. When all the condos were finished, they'd add something new and interesting to the area.

Across the street, the Blackstone Group had made progress on their project, too. They'd advanced well into the demolition stage. Eventually, their buildings and Nick's condos would change a seedy area into something exciting. Molly ached for the tenants —
her
tenants. She'd heard nothing from them. She could only hope that Nick would keep his promise to somehow make it right. She drove away in a funk.

That night, she slept fitfully. Her dreams were a tangle of confusion and, as usual, revolved around Nick. In one, he stood in the middle of the street. As she drove toward him, he shouted something and waved her away. In another, a platform stretched across the yawning hole. Music, sweet and muted, drifted on the air. She and Nick stood together on the sidewalk. She wondered why he'd brought her there. When she asked, he took her hand. Then his image faded as if he stepped into fog.

She was drained and listless all morning, and doubted she'd ever excise Nick from her heart.

Ten days later, the same thing. She was drawn again to the construction site. Like a magnet sucks iron to its core, she made the turn from the parking lot around the corner and headed away from home and toward Nick's aura. Lately, she'd become more invested in Dominique's hocus pocus. Dark clouds clustered under a dusky sky. It would be full-on night in minutes.

Once again, his car was parked across the avenue and away from his office trailer. Molly slowed to a crawl, slid into her spy slouch, and continued on. He wasn't inside the vehicle. Weird. Why did he park here at night? Was he somewhere nearby? If so, where? Except for a down-on-its-heels residence hotel, an all-night bodega, a laundromat, and two low-rise claptraps on the next street, everything else was shuttered for the night. Her head began to throb from playing detective.

She continued down the street, hooked a right, then three more, and pulled in behind his trailer. She glanced above the security fence that stretched across the front of the property and gazed at the spot where once the apartment building stood. In only a week and a half, beams had formed new doorways, walls, and ceilings. They rose five stories and ended under a flat roof. No complete facade yet. Brick sheathed the first three floors around openings where, eventually, glaziers would insert the glass. Also, no sign of Nick. Frustrated, she fought the urge to slam out of her car and bang on his trailer. Except a sixth sense — another newly found awareness — screamed it was vacant. Her hands clenched the steering wheel. She worried about him. She cut the engine and flicked off her lights.

She opened her purse and rummaged inside until she found her cell phone. There was no need to check his business card for either of his numbers. She'd memorized them from all the times, late at night, she'd tried to convince herself to call him. She dialed his home number even though she didn't expect an answer. She had to do something besides sit out here in the deserted street.

After the fourth ring, his voice came over the line.

“This is Nick. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you.”

Molly pressed the phone to her ear. She hadn't heard him speak for over three weeks. She missed the sound of him almost as much as she longed for the sight of him. She jumped when the message signal beeped in her ear.

“Nick … I saw your car … It's Molly … I'm worried about you … I … oh, hell.” She slammed the phone shut. What was that all about? Why leave a message? How would that locate him? She sounded worse than a fool. She slumped down in her seat.

The site loomed dark and deserted, eerie, like an abandoned property left for time and the elements to devour. At least she supposed it was deserted. Unless Nick was concealed somewhere inside. The silvery screens that sheathed the almost-finished front of the corner building made it impossible to tell. He'd fired the security guy, so maybe he'd set a trap for the person bent on sabotage.

She leaned across the console and peered out the passenger window. Misty fog turned the night gray. Silence deadened the air as if a great cosmic shroud blanketed the earth.

She snapped open her phone and dialed his cell. No answer. She closed her phone and shoved it into her purse.

“Where are you, Nick?”

She clenched her teeth in worry and frustration. She'd even welcome the yowl of a cat if it livened the bleak night. Her concern deepened. What if he encountered an Incredible Hulk wannabe, the kind who could separate a man's body into a hundred pieces? What if the Hulk caught Nick off guard? A whack with a tire iron and he'd be blotto, or worse. She pictured him crumpled on the floor, comatose, bloody, his body hidden under a tarp in some dark corner. He'd lie there until the workmen arrived in the morning. She bit down on her thumbnail. The question was: Should she take a quick peek? She knew the answer. Of course she shouldn't. Then, again, she couldn't
not
. She loved him that fiercely. Women in love did all kinds of stupid things. Just look at Helen of Troy. She'd started a whole war.

She popped the lever that unlocked her trunk and slid out of the car. The streetlamp across the way should have cast a glow but didn't. Had the bulb burned out? Had someone tampered with it? Using the light inside her trunk, she rummaged through her purse and checked for her can of mace. She worked late some nights and never knew who she might meet on the way to her car. The small spray can provided an extra measure of safety. She jammed the mace into her pocket.

She raked through the box of earthquake supplies in her trunk until she found a flashlight. Since she never thought to check the batteries, she muttered one of those quick, “Oh God, please let it work,” prayers and clicked the button. A pale yellow circle, little bigger than a drink coaster, illumined the ground. Not great but doable.