Page 22 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
She chuckled at that. “I’ve heard worse.” I handed the plate to her, then made coffee. “So, this nanny you’re looking into hiring…”
I turned, mugs in hand, to look at her. “Is there a problem with Mr. Cole?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We’ll run a background check on him, obviously, but from the information you supplied, he seems a likely candidate.” She plucked a bear claw from the dish and nibbled at the glazed treat as I nodded along. “Mm, delicious. How did you meet Mr. Cole?”
I filled her in on our inauspicious meeting under the linden tree. She nodded along as I regaled her with Lennon’s charming persona and musical skills. I did my best not to drift into my adoration of his eyes or the way his hair lay on his brow. I would keep my appreciation of his physical attributes to myself.
“He sounds like quite a nice man,” she commented in a noncommittal way, which made perfect sense. While I may think of him all that and a tin of biscuits as Percy would say, she may not think him so marvelous. And truly, the fact I used the word marvelous in conjunction with Lennon freaked me out. Such a boisterous term for someone was so unlike me. Even Percy, who I had known for a few years, was always just a fine gent or adecent sort. Using adjectives about my past callers was not me at all. And now that I pondered it, when did Percy become a past gentleman caller? Would I turn him away if he arrived at my door? Possibly. He had been unheard or unseen since that call about Aida.
“He is quite personable, and Valeria is fond of him.” The doorbell rang. Right on time. “Also, he’s punctual.” I’d said eight-thirty, and it was exactly eight-thirty. “I’ll go let him in now.”
She nodded at me. I hurried to the front door just in time to beat Valeria to it.
“What did we discuss about opening the door?” I asked the sleepy ball of dark hair and pink cheeks as her hand fell from the knob.
“To yell to you or Mrs. P,” she groggily replied. I patted her knotted head. “But I seen it was Lennon from the window.” She pointed to the bow window that faced the Common. “And I knows him good.”
“You know him well.”
“I say that. Can we let him in now?”
“Yes,wecan.” I adjusted her tangled nightie, then opened the door. Lennon was sunny smiles and bright blue eyes. His dress was demure. No outlandish top hats, suits, or patchwork overalls. He’d dressed respectably, knowing the social worker would be here. First impressions were very important. As a lawyer, I knew that many times a juror carried their initial perceptions of a client or attorney with them throughout the entirety of the case.
“Hey, you two,” Lennon chirped and handed Valeria a small bouquet of silk flowers. She squealed and hugged them to her chest. “I have one for you too,” he whispered, then presented me with a tiny collection of yellow roses. “Those mean new beginnings,” he shared on the sly.
“How kind, thank you.” I was gobsmacked over such a tiny and obviously inexpensive gift. These were a dollar store purchase, I was certain, yet they had the impact that a gift of real roses would.
“Mine is purple!” Valeria announced to the whole street before dancing off with her fake lilacs.
“She likes purple,” I explained, waving Lennon in. “The social worker is here already. Her name is Ms. Markes. She’s young but seems to be on the ball. She’s engaged to a woman, so that bodes well for you and me as we’re queer men. She is extremely white and has more freckles than any other person I have ever met. Also, I cannot ascertain if her hair is naturally that bold of a red or if the color is from a salon. She has not passed that along, so I would steer clear of making a comment about it. Also, she seems to be—”
“Wesley, you can relax. Go change into some running gear. There is no need to prep your client. I’m not going to be grilled by a rabid DA or anything, right?”
“Well, no, obviously not. This is just a…” I drew in a breath, blew it out, and rubbed the back of my stiff neck. “You’re right. I am overpreparing you. I tend to do that. I’ll introduce you to her, then change into running clothes.” He nodded. “If you do get stuck on a question, just excuse yourself to the powder room just off the foyer here and text me. I will accept your message and reply to you with a suitable answer that…” His look spoke volumes. “Sorry, yes, I seem to be stuck in lawyer mode. Let’s go meet her, shall we?”
Why the hell I was so nervous over a simple introductory meeting was beyond me? Lack of sleep. Had to be. I led Lennon into the kitchen where Valeria was munching away on a jelly-filled donut with one hand while holding her bouquet of fake lilacs with the other. Ms. Markes rose. Lennon and she shookhands. I looked around, saw nothing I could do that would not look like dawdling, so I left them to it.
When I came back downstairs with my best running shoes on my feet and my fave tank top and shorts on, I slipped closer to the kitchen. The three of them were discussing lemurs that sang and played baseball. I peeked around the corner. Lennon looked up. The three of them then turned to stare at me.
“Just a reminder that the emergency numbers are on the refrigerator. Valeria should have some milk, but not the nonfat almond milk as that’s mine, and she doesn’t care for it.”
“Got it.” Lennon gave me a thumbs up. So did Valeria. Ms. Markes just watched the interplay with a soft look I thought might be positive. I was rather good at reading people, after all. “Go run. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“Yes, of course you will.” I laughed nervously. Valeria seemed fine with Lennon. She didn’t know Ms. Markes well yet, but she was seated next to her and appeared comfortable. Right. I needed to go. “Off I jog then. Tally ho!”
I grimaced at myself as I headed out into a very warm and humid morning. The sky overhead was thick with moisture. The cloying air spoke of a thunderstorm day ahead. We’d not had a nasty banger since Valeria was here. I wondered if she would be scared. Aida used to be terrified of thunderstorms as a child. She would sneak into my room, shaking and whimpering, during the night when the sky was violent, and climb into my bed. I’d read a comic book to her until the storm passed. Many a morning I would wake up and she would be curled up next to me like a tiny cat, a small, tight circle of little girl.
Valeria was so much like her mother in looks. Falling into a crowd of tourists—yes, we natives could always recognize visitors to our lovely town—I took a moment to stretch. I did not want to cramp. It had been a while since I’d run. With a final glance at my home, I resigned myself to not worrying and cuedup my running playlist. Generally, I did not take calls when I was running, but that, as well as most everything else in my life, had changed. Any call from Lennon or the social worker would be answered immediately.
My gait was slow at first to give my muscles a chance to warm up. WithThe Four Seasons Summer in G Minorin my ears, I found my rhythm, and the run began. Soon I was lost to the music as well as the steady beat of sneakers to sidewalk. With no work issues to mull over and a brief respite from childcare worries, I could, incredibly, let the exercise destress me. I ran and ran and ran, much like Forrest, until my classical playlist ended with the always rousingCarmen Suite No. 2. Sweating profusely, I slowed down to a torpid jog in place as the park continued to fill with people. Calves and lower back tight, I stretched once more, my lungs cleansed much like my mind. Not one call had come in during the hour I’d run. Pleased about that, I walked through the Common, enjoying the playfulness of a young couple darting about and giggling madly until the young man caught the young lady. They shared a long kiss.
I took a moment to consider what it would be like to kiss a certain musician who wore a garish top hat. I suspected it would be quite nice. Most kissing was nice. I swiped at some sweat on my nose, then moseyed home, my head clear. Perhaps after I showered, I would take Valeria to the botanical gardens to ride the swan boats. It was certainly warm enough. Maybe Lennon would like to accompany us. He’d been a most pleasant companion on our outing to the aquarium.
Soaked with perspiration, I rushed home. Lennon was seated on the sofa brushing out Valeria’s hair as he and Ms. Markes talked baseball. Rabidly. They were tossing out player names and numbers left and right as Valeria clipped barrettes onto the long ears of her yellow stuffed bunny. Her dark eyes spied me first.
“Uncle Wes is home and wet,” she announced to the world.
“It’s quite warm today,” I pointed out as I closed the door on the city. My house was cool still, but I’d need to turn the air conditioning on if this heat continued. Early June was normally not quite this sticky, but July was known to be quite hot. “I think we may get some rain later. How is everything here?”
