The Hungry House (5 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The day of
the date with Paul finally arrived. Liz, old-fashioned as she was in some ways, was relieved that when Paul rang the cottage doorbell Vicky was still getting ready. She understood from Vicky's description of him that he was a handsome and charming young man, but she wanted to observe him when he was not in the presence of the object of his affection. Of course, this little tableau of parents scrutinizing a daughter's date had been played out so often that it was a cliché, though it was traditionally the father who held the perspective beau's feet to the fire, so to speak. And how she wished her husband could be here now.

When she opened the door, she was
stunned by Paul's appearance. Yes, she thought, he is certainly one to turn heads. But is he good?

She held out her hand, "Hello,
I'm Vicky's mother, and you must be Paul. Call me Liz."

He passed her first test by giving her a firm but polite handshake and answering "How do you do?
" She had observed how many young people simply ignored an outstretched hand when meeting new people and considered it a sign of loutish bad manners.

"Won't you com
e in? Vicky is almost ready. Please have a seat." She noticed that Paul waited to take his seat until she was fully seated. He has manners, she thought, but is it all surface?

"
Vicky tells me you're a film major. That's an interesting subject."

"Well, I've made
home movies all my life and I can always work for my dad's painting company, if 'show biz' doesn't work out." He glanced at his surroundings. "I really like this room. It looks nice, and it's inviting. So many nice houses make you feel like you're afraid to sit down. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean
. Or, they end up looking like a hotel lobby. I wish I could take credit for the décor, but it was already finished when we moved in. I'm especially fond of that antique spinning wheel."

Paul walked
over to the corner of the room to examine it.

At that moment,
Vicky walked into the room wearing a blue, silk blouse with three-quarter sleeves and off-white, linen slacks. Paul was immensely relieved that, at the last minute, something had told him to wear a shirt and khakis instead of jeans and a t-shirt. Always beautiful, tonight she looked fashionable as well. He stood and then walked across the room, gently taking her arm.

"Ready?
" Nice meeting you Mrs.--Liz."

###

We walked to the curb, and Paul opened the passenger door of his Jeep Wrangler for me before climbing into the driver's side.

I
looked around at the dashboard and into the back of the Jeep. "I've always wanted to ride in one of these. It seemed to me that just getting into it would transport you into some sort of adventure, like a safari or something."

Paul glanced ov
er at me as he started the car. "Well, I don't know how adventurous you're going to think this is, but how do you like Mexican?"

"I love it
. Mexican and Chinese are my favorites."

Good, 'cause we're heading to Esparza's
. That's why I wanted to start out early, so we wouldn't have to wait in line."

Paul dr
ove to 20th and Ankeny, which was not far from my Laurelhurst neighborhood. I was excited, because I had heard a lot about Esparza's but had never been to the restaurant.

When we walked in, I
was immediately drawn to the vibrant décor, some would say a bit kitschy, but full of pleasing eye-candy. Carvings of brightly colored, tropical birds hung from the ceiling and the seats, booths and bar were aqua and red. At 4:45 p.m., Esparza's was already filling with customers, some sitting at the bar. We were immediately shown to the last available booth and given menus.

I
did not open the menu. "I want chicken tamales."

"Okay, you
. But, could you just humor me by looking at all the interesting items on this menu? You won't see them anywhere else."

"Well, okay
," I teased, "just to humor
you
."

I
studied the menu for a few moments. "This
is
interesting. Cow tongue and buffalo."

"See, I told you it was interesting."

Paul carefully scanned everything on the menu. "I always look at everything on here and then order a big burrito."

Sud
denly, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. "Don't turn around. Three o'clock. May day, May day, going down." He hid his face behind his menu and slouched down in the booth.

I
turned to look and saw a lovely, tall young woman dramatically approaching with a large margarita in hand. Everyone turned to stare at her as she walked by.

"I
told
you not to turn around."

I
turned back around to face Paul. "You mean the "ooh la la" girl walking this way. High heels, blond hair, and skirt up to here?"

"Yup
. That's the one."

The "ooh la la" girl now stood at their table
and fixed a murderous gaze upon Paul, ignoring me.

"Where
in God's name have you been? It's been over two weeks."

"I'm fine, thanks
. And who is this, you ask? This is my date, Vicky Howell. Vicky, Mary O'Malley."

Fi
nally, Mary turned toward me and looked me up and down. "Well, it
is
cute, but I didn't know you were into cradle robbing. I suppose this explains why you haven't called."

She s
uddenly flung her margarita into his face, set the empty glass down on their table, turned on her high heels and walked out the door of the restaurant to the laughter of a few people at the bar.

Pau
l dabbed at his face with his napkin, every once in a while glancing at me. I began to laugh and could not stop.

"Oh,
yeah, very, very funny. Hah, hah." But, he looked relieved that he would not have to face two angry young women in one night.

When I
was finally able to stop laughing, I teased, "You didn't tell me there would be a floor show."

Then I
became serious. "She seemed very upset."

"You picked that up, huh? You know, on our first date she started talki
ng about how many children we would have. I never called her after that. She's a little nuts."

"Oh, I see. Well, hopefully that's the last you'll see of her."

The waitress brought their meals. Each was absorbed in eating for a few moments.

I
broke the silence. "Well, here we are, not talking again." We both smiled.

"You know, your
mom is really special. She was sizing me up but in a nice way."

"I'm sorry about that
. She feels she has to be the mom
and
the dad."

Paul shrugged
. "Hey, I have no problem with it."

"Well, I am getting a little old for
that type of parental oversight, don't you think?"

"Yeah
, probably, but just barely." He was looking into my eyes with a lover's longing.

He reached across the table
offering his hand. When I put my hand in his, the feel of his work-roughened skin gave my body a sensual jolt. My attraction to Paul frightened me. I didn't want to make another heartbreaking mistake.

"
I, I really want to get to know you, and I hope you feel the same way," Paul said.

"I do
. I feel the same way, but the thing is I have a lot on my plate right now. We must move very slowly." I wanted to act from my head and not from my throbbing body.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

I set down my fork. "I'm getting full. I'm not used to eating this much."

"Oh, who would have
ever guessed that? What are you, about five foot seven and 110 pounds or something?"

Later, o
n the doorstep of the cottage, we stood close together, looking into each other's eyes. He drew me to him by the shoulders and slowly kissed my forehead, cheek, ear, and neck. He lightly caressed my shoulders with both hands. I reached up, put my hand on the back of his neck, lowered his lips to mine and kissed him with all my heart.

###

Once inside the cottage, I found my mother in bed and not looking well. To my surprise, Mrs. Black was sitting on her bed holding Mom's hand.

"You're mot
her has been having chest pain. Her Nitroglycerin hasn't helped much."

"Well, thank you so much for coming.
" I said.

"Margaret h
as been a lifesaver," Mom said.

"I just happened to stop by
to see if you two were getting settled in, and found Liz in bed looking poorly. I called Mr. Armstrong."

"Oh
--you shouldn't have bothered him. I can take my mother to the hospital."

"Believe me dear
, I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

Suddenly,
Mr. Armstrong appeared. He strode into the room looking purposeful and stood at the foot of the bed.

"Don't worry Liz; the doctor will be here shortly."

I felt this could not be true. "A
doctor
is going to make a house call?"

"Yes.
I have a doctor on retainer, and he has contacted a heart specialist."

"But
--I can't pay for all that."

"Don't worry about it
. He will do whatever I tell him to do."

Margaret
intervened. "Vicky, the man gets paid a salary whether he comes here or not. Let him earn his money." I had to sit down. I felt like the whole world had suddenly turned upside down.

Mr. Armstrong
turned his full attention upon Liz. "Do you need anything while we wait?"

"Well--a glass of
juice would be nice." Margaret went to get the juice.

Within fifteen minutes, the doctor arrived
. Frank introduced him as Dr. Rutherford. Dr. Rutherford looked like a doctor on a television series--tall, handsome, and young. I found myself wondering why he would want to be a doctor for the rich, but then remembered that I too worked for the same rich man. We all have our reasons for what we do, I thought
.

Dr. Rutherford
immediately gave Liz an aspirin and asked everyone but me to leave. After taking her blood pressure and listening to her heart, he began to examine her. He pressed on her abdomen.

"May I examine your legs?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," Liz replied. He pulled her skirt up to just above her knees and frowned.

“I understand you are in pain
. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, how would you rate the pain?”

“About an eight
. There is pain and heavy pressure on my chest.”

“Have you had this pressure before
?”

“Yes, many times.”

He asked Liz, “How long have your calves and ankles been swollen like this?”

“Well, I don’t know
--about two years, I guess, off and on.”

Again, he examined her legs and ankles. Each time he pressed with his thumb, an indentation was left on her shin.

Dr. Rutherford’s eyes narrowed as he walked up and down beside the bed
for a moment, his forefinger placed on his lips. He appeared to be in deep thought. He took Liz’s blood pressure one more time.

Finally, he
was through with his examination.

"I
'm sending for an ambulance. I want to admit you into St. Vincent's for some testing and a procedure." Seeing the look of alarm on Mom's face, he continued, "Well, actually 'admit' is scarier than it sounds. You will be home by tomorrow, noon at the latest. You'll be having lunch with your daughter, maybe even breakfast."

"What do you think is m
aking me so sick? I was doing better."

"Well
, first of all, the Nitroglycerin alone is not giving you nearly enough relief. Who is your regular doctor?"

"Wel
l, that's the thing. I see Dr. Jim Weaver whenever I can, but sometimes I go to the emergency room."

"
Oh. I see. Well, you have a regular doctor now. You need consistent blood pressure and water retention treatment and a regular regimen of exercise. I'll see to it that you get both of those things, and then we'll go from there after I see all your test results."

Liz sat up in bed
. "What kind of tests will I be having?"