Easy Loving

He walked inside. “Gas leaks are worse in the summertime. People have their windows open so they don’t smell the fumes. Gas builds up in pockets. Is your husband home, ma’am? I’d like to show you both where the—”

“I’m a widow.” She nervously rubbed her hands together.

He noticed the telltale swelling of arthritis in her knuckles. He noticed, too, the guileless trust in her eyes.

A pang of conscience tightened his chest. He preferred gathering information in a straightforward manner. Ask the questions, glean what answers he could, then split. He needed, however, to handle this operation as he did for the occasional bail jumpers he traced—carefully, without alarming friends and family with too many questions. He especially didn’t want to alarm Livman’s mother. No matter what, a mother’s love won out every single time.

He’d discovered a worrisome pattern in Livman’s life. The man apparently felt no qualms about dumping jobs, homes, cars or acquaintances. In the past twenty years, he’d worked for more than a dozen real-estate companies. He’d bought and sold dozens of homes and properties. Nobody seemed to know Livman well. A few people had been surprised to learn he’d been married and was now a widower. Easy suspected if the heat turned up too high, Livman wouldn’t have a second thought about skipping the state. Still, sneaking around, asking covert questions and hoping nobody noticed his interest, was getting on Easy’s nerves.

Mrs. Livman showed him to the basement. It had linoleum flooring, simulated wood panelling on the walls, and that funky, old-house-basement smell. It reminded him of the house where he’d grown up. While the woman hovered anxiously, he played with the laser toy, sweeping it around the gas lines, furnace and water heater. He made lights blink and a few presses of his thumb caused dial indicators to jump.

“Clean as a whistle,” he announced.

“Oh, good! You were scaring me, young man.”

“Sorry. My instrument is sensitive. But everything is operating normally. No leaks, no problems. Thank you for your time, ma’am, and sorry for bothering you.”

She protested heartily that he was no bother at all. At the top of the stairs, he noticed the knob was loose on the basement door. He pretended to lose his grip on his clipboard and while catching it, he gave the doorknob an ex-trahard shake. It rattled loudly.

“You’re about to lose your doorknob, ma’am.”

She sighed heavily. “Sometimes it just seems like this old house is falling apart. Sort of like I am.”

He pulled a Phillips head screwdriver from his work belt. “Just need to tighten the screws, ma’am. Only take a second.”

Her smile beamed pure gratitude; he lowered his head so she couldn’t see his shame. He jiggled the doorknob into place and tightened the screws. As he sensed she might, she acted as if he’d saved her from a burning building. She offered him something to drink. He made a show of checking his watch, but allowed her to coax him into accepting the offer.

In the small living room he pretended to make notes on the clipboard while she fetched him a glass of lemonade. He sipped and declared it the best he’d ever tasted. Then he nodded at a large, framed portrait hanging prominently in the middle of a montage of photographs. It pictured five girls, ranging from around ten to perhaps eighteen, all of them blue-eyed blondes with pretty faces and big smiles. Seated on the lap of the eldest girl was a toddler, a blond, blue-eyed boy.

“Your family?”

“My children.” She practically wriggled with pride. “All grown-up now and on their own. They visit whenever they can.”

“My wife and I have only one boy. He’s a handful. A real little terror.”

“Boys are like that. Always into one thing or another.” She clucked her tongue. “Mischief and pranks and being ornery. I never had a speck of trouble with the girls, but Jeff sure gave me the devil.”

“I bet it was hard,” Easy said sympathetically.

“It sure was! My husband died soon after little Jeff was born, leaving me with six kids and no money. Fortunately I was a skilled legal secretary. I managed to support us. And the girls were a great help with little Jeff.” She giggled. “He’s not so little anymore. But he’s still my baby. He would have come to fix that doorknob, but he’s a very important businessman. He owns a huge real-estate company down south in Colorado Springs.”

A creepy sensation crawled up Easy’s spine. Livman’s sisters were all blue-eyed blondes. Roberta had been a blue-eyed blonde. As was Catherine. While Mrs. Livman waxed poetic about her perfect family and how the girls all rallied to help their mother raise the baby boy, Easy began to wonder if perhaps something more than money had motivated Livman to kill his wife.

CATHERINE HOPPED onto a picnic table. She shook her ponytail and raked damp tendrils of hair off her face. Not a whiff of breeze offered a cooling touch on her hot face, but she didn’t care. She loved Fox Run Park with its winding trails and pine trees. Oscar and Bent loved it, too. Mouths wide open and tongues dragging, the greyhounds lay in a patch of shade, serenely watching the small lake below.

She watched Jeffrey stretch his hamstrings. He’d been avoiding her all week. She’d hurt his feelings during the scene at the Grape and Olive. She’d acted poorly—reacted poorly. He loved her and she had treated his proposal like a personal attack. No wonder he’d been short on the telephone and “busy” all week. It surprised her somewhat that he’d agreed to meet her for a run in the park this morning.

“For an old guy,” she said, “you run pretty good.”

“Old, huh?” He used both hands to swipe sweat off his face. He sat on the picnic table beside her.

She admired the way he looked in his shorts and sleeveless T-shirt, his body toned and fit, his smile relaxed. He worked hard, vowing he’d be a millionaire before his fortieth birthday, but he knew how to play, too.

They liked the same music and movies. Both of them loved their work. Jeffrey enjoyed the outdoors—biking, hiking, running, camping—as much as she did. Most of the time they were so comfortable together it seemed as if she’d known him all her life.

“Can we talk?” she asked. All week she’d been working toward this conversation, seeking the perfect time and place. Now alone in the park, she knew it would never get better than this.

“Uh-oh, sounds serious.”

She couldn’t face him. “It’s about…the other night.”

“Is this a good talk? Or the kiss of death?”

She rested her forearms on her knees. This was hard. She didn’t know anything about relationships. “I owe you an apology. I realize now that what you did was very special. You’re romantic and impulsive, and I do want you to know I appreciate the gesture.”

He snorted. “Didn’t look appreciative. It was a real kick in the gut when you ran out on me.”

She cringed inwardly. She’d had plenty of time to consider what he meant to her. After Easy’s visit, it struck her that she could live her life on hold, or she could really live. A man as good as Jeffrey didn’t come along every day. Considering how difficult it was for her to meet new people, she might never meet another man like him. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You’re right, we’re good together. We could make a great life.”

He lifted an eyebrow. His lips pursed. “It seems to me, that’s what I told you.”

“Please don’t be difficult, Jeffrey. I’m trying to apologize. To explain. There’s something I have to tell you, but it’s hard.”

“Sounds ominous.”

Maybe it was. She watched crows wheeling lazy circles over the pine trees. Did she love Jeffrey? If love meant respect, affection and a desire for his approval, then she did. It felt far, far different than what she’d felt for Easy. That, she reasoned, had been infatuation, not true, mature love.

“Cath—”

“Give me a minute. This is hard. I’ve never talked about it before.” She licked her lips and swiped sweat off her brow. The only way to say it was to just say it. “When I was sixteen, a junior in high school, I fell in love with a boy. I got pregnant. I gave the baby up for adoption.” She closed her eyes, waiting.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it” She made herself look at him, seeking clues to his reaction.

“You’ve never told anybody?”

Bemused by his nonreaction, she lifted a shoulder. “Nowadays, the talk shows and magazines make out-of-wedlock babies seem like no big deal. But it was a big deal to me, and still is.” She stretched out her legs and flexed her feet. “It still hurts.”

“Are you scared I’ll call you damaged goods and stomp off?”

It startled her to discover that was exactly what she feared. At hearing it said aloud, it seemed ridiculous. She forced a smile. “I don’t know: Will you?”

He laughed and picked up her hand. “I should have known it was something like this. You’re too sensitive. I’m glad you told me, Catherine. Honest. It explains a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like why it’s so hard getting close to you.” He scowled in mock ferocity and leaned his face close to hers. “Why you ran out on me when I proposed. I felt like a jerk. Not to mention wasting a bottle of very expensive champagne.”