Once Upon Another Time (17 page)

“If you or your
father feels there is just cause to dispute the issue of nonpayment of rent,
there’s still one more day to complete the attached answer form and return it
to court.”

“Answer form?”

“Yes.  It’s
unfortunate, but the court generally rules in favor of the landlord in these
types of cases, so if your father fails to file the paperwork he’ll lose by
default.  As though he’d gone to trial and lost.  This form gives your father a
chance to delay the eviction hearing so he can prove his case in court.  He can
offer up evidence that the eviction was unwarranted and that he had good reason
for late payment.  However, if he’s going to fight this, I highly advise that a
lawyer be present, as the landlord will most likely have his lawyer represent
him.”

“Do you handle
these types of cases?” 

Although I
represented only high profile cases, I thought about Matt and couldn’t get it
out of my head that he played a hand in me meeting Gavin Donnelly, and the
dream I had was mind-boggling.  And if I couldn’t speak with Matt, I needed to
figure out for myself why the man in my office was suddenly in my life. 

“Yes, I do.  I’d
be happy to help you if you like.”

“That’d be great.”

“Okay, I’ll have
to complete the motion to open the pleadings today and file them in court no
later than tomorrow.”  I opened the calendar on my computer screen.  “I have a
meeting in fifteen minutes; it should only last an hour.  Could we see your
father this afternoon so we can complete the paperwork?”

“Of course.”  

“Great, I’ll need
a contact number to get a hold of you when I’m done here.” 

His penetrating
stare made me feel as if he could see right down into my soul.  I lowered my
eyes, while Gavin Donnelly stood and pulled a business card from his wallet.  I
still could not believe how bizarre it all was. 

“I really
appreciate you helping me, especially on such short notice.  Thank you,” he
said, and gave me his card.

“You’re welcome,”
I said, as he walked away.  I felt dazed as I stared down at his business card
when a sudden ruckus caused me to snap to attention.  My client, Ray Peters,
had pushed past Gavin in the doorway and charged into my office.

Ashley followed;
her face flushed.  “I’m sorry.  He just--”

“Aubrey!”  Ray
bellowed, “I told you the curse wasn’t going away.  Now what am I going to
do?” 

Ray was CEO of a
billion dollar company.  He suspected that his wife had a Mozambique
witchdoctor put a curse on him, which he felt had led to the sexual harassment
lawsuit against him by one of his employees.  

An apprehensive
look crossed Gavin Donnelly’s face as he sized up Ray, while I wondered how I
was going to break the news to Ray that Judge Trudy Lopez, a Loraine Bobbit
fan, was going to preside over his case.  That in itself was a curse. 

“Ray, what’s
happened now?” 

Ray’s jersey-knit
shirt, with pearlized buttons embossed with the Arnold Palmer logo, stretched
tightly around his bulging girth.  As he stepped forward, his flashy yellow
pants caught the glare of the sun through the windows, temporarily blinding
me. 

“Do you know what
my wife did?  I just got back from a four-day golf tournament and found her and
all my furniture gone.  What am I going to do?” he said, his voice cracking.

Ray burst into fitful
cries equal to a Broadway performance of the Cowardly Lion in the Wizard of Oz.

“Ray, please sit
down, we’ll work it out,” I said, as I peered past him to look at Gavin
Donnelly and Ashley, giving them an assuring look that it was okay for them to
leave.

The inside of Jeb
Donnelly’s apartment smelled like musty flowers, a scent from a fading lilac
plug-in air freshener.  A large square of sunshine fell over the floral area
rug covering the aged hardwood floors in the living room.  Jeb was proud to
point out his latest flea market find, a handsome pair of lamps.  Both sat on
white doily covered antique mahogany end tables. 

Although Jeb
Donnelly had just recuperated from a heart attack, he looked healthy.  His body
was solid, and the tattoos on his arms rivaled that of a rock star.  His white
whiskery face was heavily lined, and the only visible sign of illness showed in
his cloudy, gray eyes.  His reading glasses rested far below the bridge of his
nose, as his tired eyes examined the legal documentation at arm's length.

“Is this where I
sign?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

Jeb glided a thick
veined hand over the sturdy oak kitchen table to brush off crumbs before
setting the paperwork down to sign it.  The light above the kitchen table
shined down through his thin snowy white hair to expose his pink scalp.

“So, Solomon can’t
make me pack up and leave?” he asked gruffly, while handing the document back
to me.

“No.  Once I file
the paperwork in court to open the pleading, which will take place tomorrow, he
cannot take any action on the eviction notice until after the trial.  That is
if the judge rules in his favor.  However, I feel confident that once we prove
in court you were in a convalescent home and that your social security checks
were diverted to pay for those expenses that will be enough to overturn the
eviction.”

“See Dad, you can
relax now,” Gavin said, as he rubbed Jeb’s shoulder.

Every time I
looked at Gavin, I wanted to pinch myself.  There was no logical explanation for
how a stranger that I had dreamt about could actually be a living, breathing
human being.  Of course, Matt leaving me messages in the pages of a novel,
making appearances and calling for me to find him wasn’t exactly normal either.

“Isn’t that right
Aubrey?”  Gavin looked directly into my eyes, as if he were searching for
something more than the answer to his question.

“Absolutely,
besides, I find it suspicious that when you left messages offering to pay the
back rent, Solomon didn’t respond.  I’ll be digging into his background.  You
never know, something unscrupulous might turn up, which could help the case.”

Jeb rose from his
chair with a smile and waved a crooked arthritic finger at me.  “You’re a
little spitfire.  I can see it in your eyes.  Yep, you picked a good one, Son.” 
Jeb gave Gavin a wink. 

“Hey, I almost
forgot.  Picked up a fresh apple Danish this morning” said Jeb.  “I can make
pot of coffee to go with it if you two are interested.”

“Oh, no, but thank
you,” I said.  “I really have to get back to the office.”

“I do too, Dad. 
But I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, come on,
I’ll walk you both to the door.”

Dust particles
danced around Jeb’s slippered feet as he walked over the sun patched floral
area rug.  I wondered where Gavin’s mother was and who was there to cook and
clean for Jeb. 

We stepped outside
onto the large shady porch of the gray and white painted Queen Anne Victorian. 
The house was large with a big bay window, turret, and wraparound porch.  As we
walked down the front porch steps, I stared at Gavin’s red truck parked at the
curb in front of the house.  A rugged, testosterone-injected pickup that looked
as if it sported one of those big hemi engines they advertise on TV.  The truck
looked ten feet tall with tires big enough to wrap around a small car, a
four-wheeler that could trudge though three feet of mud, drive over boulders,
and scale the side of small mountains.  The kind of truck Superman would have
driven had he not had special powers to fly.

I had offered to
drive, but Gavin insisted I ride with him.

“Thank you again
for coming to my father’s rescue,” he said, as we approached the truck.  He
rushed to open the passenger door for me, when in my head I heard his
thoughts. 
“Beautiful eyes…”

Shyness overcame
me, or maybe it was the awkwardness of hearing what he was thinking.  As I raised
my leg to step up on the running board, the four-inch side slit on my skirt
ripped to a full ten inches, exposing my thigh.  It had been many months and
many gallons of Chunky Monkey ago that I had last checked out my body parts. 
Could I possibly have developed Hillary Clinton thighs? 

“Wow,” I heard him
say in my head.

I felt flushed as
I caught Gavin’s gaze.  I couldn’t tell whether he meant that as a compliment
or
wow
, as in I’ve never before seen a thigh the size of a ham hock!

I pinched the flap
closed and hopped up into the truck.  Gavin blushed as he closed the door. 
Once inside the truck, he revved the engine.  I peered out the window at the
houses on Jeb’s street.  Lined with turn-of-the-century boarding houses,
Valley, the small neighborhood he lived in west of downtown, was built on a
large slope rising up from the Woonasquatucket River.

“So, are you from Providence?” I asked

 
“Yeah.  I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather live. 
It’s a great city.”

 “I agree,” I
said, as I caught the remarkable view across the city toward the skyline of downtown. 
“Does your father live alone?”

“For the past six
years since he’s been back in Providence he has.  He and my mom split when I was
just a kid in grade school.  Not long after, he moved down south to find work
as a carpenter.  I didn’t see him much after that.” 

“I see.”

Gavin sped up to
run a yellow light, while I thought about Danny from my eighth-grade class. 
His father skipped out on him when he was five.  Danny felt that tattooing his
knuckles with the glowing ember of a cigarette burned his real pain away. 

 “Does your mother
live in Providence?”

“She died right
before my father came back to live here.” 

I turned to see
him staring pensively through the windshield.

“Oh, I’m sorry to
hear that.” 

I almost felt
guilty for growing up with parents who were still alive and filed the same tax
return.

“How about you,
lived here all your life?”  He gave me a quick glance.

“Uh-huh, born and
raised,” I said.  “I don’t live far from the city, just about thirty-five
minutes or so away in Tiverton.”

“Nice quaint
place.  Your folks live there, too?”

“No, they live
closer to town.  They’re a big help, especially when it comes to taking care of
my son while I’m at work.”

“That’s great you
have a son.  How old is he?”

“Nicholas is going
to be seven in October.  He can be a handful at times, but I couldn’t even
begin to imagine how empty my life would be without him.”

I gazed out the
window thinking back to the day I found out I was pregnant.  Too anxious to
wait until I got home, I sat on the toilet in the stall at work peeing on a
pregnancy tester strip.  When the strip turned blue, I let out a scream like a
Tasmanian devil.  Fendworth busted into the restroom thinking someone was
attacking me.  I don’t know who was more embarrassed.

“And your
husband?”

I looked at Gavin as
he downshifted while coming to a stoplight. 

“Um, he died
before Nicholas was born.”

“I’m sorry.  That
must have been very hard on you.” 

I nodded.  “It
was, but I had a lot of support from my parents and my friends, especially
Laura, the woman I introduced you to.  We’ve been best friends since
childhood.”  

“That’s quite the
long friendship.  I take it she’s a lawyer, too.”

“Yes, we wanted to
be caped crusaders and save the world from injustice.  Truth is lawyers are
always trying to fulfill their fantasies of excitement.  It’s a job similar to
that of a professional killer, but without the seemingly dangerous travel
schedule and possibility of a prison death sentence.”

Gavin laughed and
threw his head back, while I chuckled at how he found my silly words
entertaining. 

“You have quite a
sense of humor.”  His steady gaze at me immediately put everything back into perspective. 
This was no ordinary man who I’d met while out with my friends at some bar, or
someone I’d had a blind date with or just some person whose father I was
representing.  I conjured him up in my mind while I slept and he materialized. 
It was almost as if he was a ghost like Matt, but in solid body form.

 I turned to study
the scenery and wondered what I was supposed to do now.  He was alive and
breathing for heaven’s sake!  Not that being alive was a bad thing.  I just
felt as though things might have been a little simpler if I’d been pronounced clinically
insane. 

As I nestled back
in my seat, I heard the sound of crinkling cellophane.  I reached back into the
crack of the seat and pulled out a small bag of salted pumpkin seeds.  The red
packaging with an Indian chief illustration on the front reminded me of the pumpkin
seeds Matt used to eat.  He’d get this quirky craving for them whenever he’d
have an ice-cold beer or be in the movie theater like the time we were watching
“Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery.”  He laughed so hard a pumpkin
seed got stuck in his throat and when trying to wash it down with a soft drink,
the carbonation fizzed up and blew the pumpkin seed straight out his nose.  It
was definitely a Kodak moment.

“Are these
yours?”  I pinched the corner of the bag between two fingers and held it up as
if it were a snapping turtle. 

“So that’s where
that bag went,” Gavin said, as he took the bag and dropped it into the cup
holder between the seats. 

“It’s been a while
since I’ve seen a bag of those,” I said.

The light turned
green, and he quickly shifted into first gear.  “I get a craving for them every
time I have a cold beer.”

I looked at him as
if a beanstalk had just sprouted from his ear.  

 “So,” I said,
wanting to change the subject, “tell me what a project manager does.”

“Well, it’s not as
exciting or as much fun as being a lawyer, I can tell you that much.”  Gavin
lifted his foot off the clutch and pressed down on the gas pedal.  His long
fingers gripped the leather knob on top of the chrome stick shift that sat
between us.  Smoothly he shifted into second gear, and quickly into third.