The Dad Next Door

He’d put it in the dishwasher last night. Now he ran downstairs and pulled it out, relieved to find it was spotless. He might as well take it back before he forgot.

Gavin left his house, passing by the old oak en route to Allison’s. The tree was one of several that bordered the road, branches arcing over the pavement to form a natural bridge from one side of the street to the green patch in the middle.

Robin Crescent was going to be breathtaking in a couple of weeks, when the leaves began to change. Living in New England, you couldn’t help but love the fall. Still, Gavin’s sense of anticipation for the coming season was marred by the memory of how much Marianne had hated it.

“Why does everyone think autumn is so beautiful? The leaves are dying. Don’t you think it’s sad?”

She’d had empathy enough for the trees. Why not for her own daughters?

Frustrated to find himself dwelling on the past again, Gavin rapped on his neighbor’s door a little harder than he’d intended to.

Allison responded at once. She was shaking her hair out of a ponytail and he had an unanticipated visceral reaction as her shiny maple syrup-colored hair fell loose to frame her face.

He resisted the impulse to touch it. Instead, he held out the baking dish. “Thanks very much. The lasagna was great.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

He found it hard dealing with new people—people who didn’t know about the tragedy. His daughter’s death wasn’t the sort of background information you could casually insert into a conversation, like telling someone you were an architect.

“Nice place.” He glanced around, admiring everything he could see from the foyer. Warm colors, interesting artwork, an intriguing French country armoire.

Allison’s house wasn’t showroom perfect, like the rooms the designers at his old firm used to create. This simply felt like a home. He needed to fix up his new place like this. Yet he felt overwhelmed by all the work it would take to pull it off. “Did you use a decorator?”

“Didn’t need to. That’s what I do—I work out of my shop downtown. You may have noticed it. The Perfect Thing?”

He was impressed. “That’s yours? We walked by on Saturday when we were looking for a café. You’ve got lots of beautiful stuff.”

“Thank you. The shop used to be my grand-mother’s. When I was a kid, I would hang out with her on weekends. I thought I was a big help—at least my grandma made me feel as if I was.”

She smiled, obviously thinking of happy memories, and then she stuffed a folder of papers into a leather tote bag. He recognized them as architectural drawings of interiors. Noticing his curiosity, she explained, “These plans are for one of my clients. I forgot them this morning and we’re meeting at the store in fifteen minutes.”

This was a perfect opportunity to ask if she was accepting new clients. Maybe she could make Gavin’s house look as good as hers did.

But was it smart to hire his next-door neighbor? Especially when Gavin had already decided that he wanted to be friendly, but not too friendly?

His watch began to beep. Perfect timing. He pushed the button to silence the alarm. “I have to pick up my daughter from school.”

“And I have to get back to the store.”

He nodded. “Thanks again for the lasagna.”

Closing the door behind himself, he started off in such a hurry that he almost tripped over a loose board. He regained his balance, and then noticed a piece of creamy paper trapped under the board. It was a wedding invitation.

With Allison’s name front and center.

Gavin had a strange reaction to the news that she was getting married in four weeks. It was like…disappointment.

Which wasn’t especially rational, considering his lack of interest in the woman.

TORY SEEMED FINE when Gavin met her at the classroom door, but by the time they got home she was in tears.

“I don’t want to go back there.” She set her mouth in a pout that looked more sad than willful.

Tory wasn’t a child who cried a lot. Even as a baby she’d been content to let her twin sister make all their demands. It was always Samantha’s cry that signaled the need for a feeding, a diaper change or a desire to play or be cuddled.

“Don’t you like your teacher?” Ms. Carter had seemed cheerful and kind to Gavin.

Tory shrugged.

“Weren’t the other kids friendly?”

She shrugged again.

Gavin rubbed the stubble on the side of his face, feeling a little lost. Why was it so hard to communicate with his own child? Maybe if their home was a little more comfortable…

He looked around the maze of boxes for a place to sit. He could barely see the sofa, let alone relax on it. Tomorrow he really needed to make a bigger dent in the unpacking. In the meantime, he and Tory had to get out of here.

“Let’s go for a walk. We’ll head downtown and grab a bite to eat.”

Once they were outside, he tried to raise the subject of school again, but Tory was more interested in collecting rocks than in talking. They stopped at the drugstore to buy school supplies she needed, and then moved on to the Apple Pie Café.

Gavin made a halfhearted effort to let Tory choose from the menu, but when that didn’t work, he ordered burgers and shakes for both of them.

He waited until the server left to broach the topic one more time. “Tory, you want to learn to read and write, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“And you want to make friends, too. Right?”

She looked more uncertain about this.

“You do want to make friends,” he assured her. “That’s what Sam would want you to do.”

Tears filled Tory’s eyes again, and Gavin wondered if mentioning her sister had been the wrong thing to do.

The server returned with their food and Gavin opened Tory’s burger to take out the pickle. If Sam had been here, he’d have given her Tory’s pickle and his, too. But he shouldn’t think about that. Shouldn’t look at Tory and imagine another little girl sitting right beside her…

Double trouble. That’s what his brother Matthew had called them, though always with a smile. He’d been a rock of support to Gavin in those first years after Marianne had left, always finding time to call or visit despite the demands of his job and his own family.

Then, again, after Sam’s death, Matthew had been the one person who had really seemed to understand what he was going through. He’d leaned on Matt a lot. Too much, perhaps. It had never occurred to him that maybe his brother needed a little support, too.

But plowing through each day and helping Tory get through hers had been about all he could manage.

Gavin left the subject alone after that. He was glad to see that despite her unhappiness about school, there was nothing wrong with Tory’s appetite. The first while after Sam’s accident she hadn’t eaten much, and Gavin still felt she had some catching up to do.

After they’d finished their meal and settled the bill, they started for home. Tory paused at one of the store windows along the way.

It was Allison Bennett’s shop, The Perfect Thing.