“You’ll get yourself in more trouble.”
“No I won’t. Andy doesn’t work for me anymore, and he’s off duty, a guy doing a favor for two friends.”
“Okay. You want to go away for a few minutes?”
“I’d be happy to help you get dressed.”
“Don’t be overconfident. It isn’t the same as taking them off. I’ve already asked the nurse to help me. She’s bringing the discharge papers.”
He held up both hands. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I sure hope you don’t end up being sorry. When this started I wasn’t thinking of it as a long-term arrangement, and you weren’t either. If this starts to feel like a bad idea, please tell me right away.”
“Did your mom tell you to say that?”
“No. She told me I had no business doing this in the first place, implied that I was disgracing the family, and wants me home with her as soon as possible. She seems to have forgotten I’ve never lived in Florida, but at least it means I’ll have someplace to go when you find a new girlfriend and cast me out on the pavement outside your stronghold.”
“Can’t hurt to have an eager parent,” he said. He took out his phone and hit a key. “It’s me. The discharge papers aren’t here yet. Have you seen signs of unwanted attention? Good. I’ll call you before we roll the wheelchair.”
She laughed and called out: “Thanks, Andy.”
In a few minutes the nurse arrived with a clipboard with several sheets of yellow forms, several white, several pink, and one green. Diane signed and initialed for a few minutes, and then the nurse brought in a wheelchair. Stahl left to wait outside while the nurse got her ready.
He made a call and Andy had the car at a side entrance of the building when they arrived. In another minute or two they were on the road. Andy drove them to the driveway of Stahl’s building, and Stahl got out to punch in the codes to open the gate and the garage so Andy could pull Diane’s car into the space beside Stahl’s. Then Andy handed Diane her key chain with her car key and fob and the condominium key Stahl had put on the chain so many days ago.
She stepped up the stairs to the garage entrance for the condo, and said, “You don’t have to do that, Andy.”
“Do what?”
“Hover behind me like you’re my spotter at the gym. I can climb steps again.” She unlocked the door.
“Sorry,” he said. “Morrissey is picking me up in a minute, so I’ll leave you here. Congratulations on getting out of the hospital. I know I’ll see you soon.” He hurried off to get out before Stahl closed the garage entrance.
In a moment Stahl caught up with her. He pushed open the door and they stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, crap,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
She turned around to face him. “Can’t you smell it, or are you pretending?”
“Smell what?”
“It smells exactly the way the most expensive whorehouse in the world must smell,” she said. “No, I guess this perfume is even too expensive for that.” There were tears welling in her eyes. “I’m completely blindsided. Why would you make me want to come here, when you’ve had other women here with you all this time?”
“Wait,” he said. “You’re jumping to conclusions,” he said. “It’s—”
“It’s what?”
“I think he means it’s a misunderstanding.” It was a woman’s voice, and Diane knew instantly it was a woman about fifty years old. A thin, attractive woman about that age came out of the spare bedroom wearing a dark suit and carrying a covered hanger. Her makeup was heavy, as though there were some kind of daytime party in the spare room. “The perfume is mine. And don’t worry, dear, they never replace you with an older model.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m May Hedges. Bloomingdale’s asked me to serve as your personal shopper. Mr. Stahl explained your predicament. Having your apartment blown up is bad enough, but having your closet destroyed is unthinkable.”
“I’m Diane,” she said, her face reddening.
“Would you like to have a look at what I’ve picked out for you?” She put her arm around Diane and ushered her into the hallway to the spare bedroom. “This is sort of a starter wardrobe. Mr. Stahl showed me the clothes that survived, so I knew your size and the sort of thing you liked.”
The bed was covered with clothing boxes, all opened and tipped upward to display blouses and sweaters, lingerie and T-shirts. The closet was hung with about a dozen outfits—dresses, suits, skirts, pants, jeans, jackets—and there was a row of about a dozen pairs of shoes, boots, sandals, and sneakers. “If there’s anything you don’t love, I can take it with me when I go, then bring better choices tomorrow.”
Diane looked at the clothes, and then at Stahl. “No, there’s nothing here that I don’t love.”
“Mr. Stahl explained you were still recovering, so I included sets of sweatpants and T-shirts and comfortable things for wearing around the house. They’re in the drawers.”
“Thank you,” said Diane. “I love it that you brought jeans and things, which are what I wear most of the time.”
“I’m glad you like them. But I’ve presented you with a lot to think about as soon as you walked in the door.” She pointed at the business card on the dresser. “There’s my card. Just give me a call if anything isn’t right, or you’d like something I haven’t thought of, or for any other reason.”
Stahl said, “We appreciate your care and your excellent taste. Do you have a tally now, or—”
She laughed and held up her hand. “Your bill will reach you soon enough, Mr. Stahl. Meanwhile, here’s a card for you too. I’ll be happy to come back anytime.”
When she was gone, Stahl joined Diane in the bedroom. She was sitting on the bed staring at the wall. “Oh God,” she said. “I made such a fool of myself.”
He shrugged. “My fault. That’s the danger of surprising people.”
“I was just so shocked. I couldn’t figure out why. If you’d just said nothing, I would have been on a plane to Florida, but you talked me into coming.”
“Did you actually like the clothes, or were you just trying to get rid of her?”
“Some of each. Give me a while to look at them after I pull myself together. Right now I kind of want to start over.” She stood up from the bed.
“Take your time,” he said. “Right now I’m going to pour myself a drink. You want one?”
“I’m off the pain medicine, so I guess I could. But aren’t you on duty until eight?” She followed him out to the living room.
“Not anymore. That’s why I want a drink.”
Her eyes followed him as he walked toward the kitchen cabinet where the bottles were kept. “So what you’re saying is that I’m going to want one too?”
“Yes.”
32
Gloria Hedlund held her handbag and briefcase on the sides of her body, as she had when leaving work for the past twenty-five years. She had still been getting work as a model when she started at Channel Ten, and she had kept up all the tricks—use the loads you have to carry as free weights for exercise, watch your posture, think about the wrinkles your face is making, never forget what sun and alcohol did to skin. You never had to have anything repaired if you didn’t damage it first.
Her modeling agents had taught her to make her body a temple, and she still worshipped at it. She was long past modeling anything, but it didn’t matter because the money would have been negligible compared with what she made now. But she still did dance exercises, still ran, and still worked out on the machines. On her days off she did the things that took time—swimming and riding a bike.