“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, easing a sigh of relief that Sawyer had taken the strange tension—and his arsenal of potent pheromones—upstairs with him. “His death-glare could cut diamonds. His daughter’s a cutie, though. How old?”
“Thirteen months,” Elena said. “I’ve been babysitting her since she was an infant, and I love every minute. I’d do it for free but Sawyer insists on paying the ‘going rate.’” She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I tell him my going rate because it’s much less. My pleasure to help him. He works so hard. Every day, all night.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s studying to be a lawyer,” she said proudly. “Very close to being done too.”
I scuffed my combat boot on the thinly carpeted floor. “What…um, what does Olivia’s mom do?”
Tell me he’s happily married. Have mercy.
“She is not in the picture,” Elena said quietly.
“Oh? That’s…too bad.”
“Sawyer has never mentioned her and I don’t ask. I figure if he wants to tell, he’ll tell but he’s sealed up tight. Like a drum. He has a heart of gold, that one, but so serious. All the time, so much stress. I worry about him.” She smiled warmly. “I tell him his handsome face was meant for smiling, but he saves those for Livvie.”
“I noticed.”
Elena gave my hand a pat. “And what do you do for work, Darlene? Massage therapist, you say?”
“Yes,” I said. “I started today.”
“A massage therapist. Isn’t that something?” Elena’s smile widened and her glance darted upward, to the heavens or Sawyer’s apartment. “Dios trabaja de maneras misteriosas.”
“What’s that?”
“A guess. I tell you later.”
A little dark-haired girl with large eyes appeared at Elena’s hip. She put her hand on the girl’s head. “This is Laura. She’s two and I have a son, Hector, who is five. My husband works late but you’ll meet him someday.”
I smiled and waved at the little girl. “You really have your hands full.”
“I do,” Elena said, “or else I’d invite you in like a proper neighbor and make you dinner. But I have to get these two in the bath.”
“That’s so sweet of you. Another time, maybe?” I said, and I meant it. Elena was like a prototype for the ideal mother, and a wave of homesick with a side of lonely washed over me. I had a sudden urge to sit on her couch, rest my head on her shoulder, and pour my guts out to her.
You are being extra ridiculous right now. No one needs to know anything. Not here, in your new life.
“Speaking of dinner,” I said brightly, “I should get going. I haven’t done any shopping since I got here except for the essentials: coffee and tampons. Where’s the closest grocery?”
“There’s a Safeway and a Whole Foods. Both are a short walk up 14th, then cross over to Market.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much, Elena.”
“Of course, querida. I’m very happy you’re here, and I believe Sawyer will soon come to feel the same.”
I blinked and laughed. “I’m pretty sure he’ll forget all about me. In New York you can go months without talking to anyone else in your apartment building.”
“Ah, but this is not an apartment building, is it? It’s a house. A home.” Elena’s smile was like warm bread. “You’ll see.”
Darlene
Back in my place, I changed out of my clothes and put on some yoga pants, and a black, dance camisole. I figured my best bet for keeping ahead of massage-soreness was to stretch out every night.
I sat on the floor in my little living area, between the couch and TV stand, and began a mini-routine, but I didn’t get very far. My cupboards were bare and I was hungrier than I realized. I threw on my gray sweater, my boots; shouldered my purple backpack, and headed out.
On the landing in front of #2, I hesitated. Did Sawyer need anything? It couldn’t have been easy to get to the store often with a toddler.