Free Going Back by Judith Arnold Page A

floors, the walls had been
painted recently and every window frame sported a double-layer
thermopane. The appliances were new, the lighting fixtures
attractive, the yard recently mowed and the shrubs pruned. The
house boasted a price tag approaching $600,000—worth it for a
dwelling that was clean and safe, with no surprises and no
additional work necessary. This was a house that demanded nothing
from its owner other than a fat wallet and an appreciation of its
pretty practicality.
    Daphne wasn’t terribly shocked when
Brad told her he loved it.
     
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    “IT’S NOT THAT I hate driving in
the city,” Paul said as Daphne’s car emerged from the Lincoln
Tunnel into Manhattan. “It’s that I hate parking in the
city.”
    “No explanation necessary,” Daphne
assured him, navigating her car deftly through the
traffic-congested midtown streets. “I don’t mind
driving.”
    “The last time I parked my car on a
New York City street,” he went on, evidently disagreeing with her
about the necessity of an explanation, “my hubcaps got stolen. And
you know as well as I do that in this city, parking in a garage
costs an arm and a leg.”
    “There aren’t any garages on
Andrea’s block, so don’t worry about sacrificing your arms and
legs,” Daphne told him. “If someone wants my hubcaps, so be it.
I’ve got insurance.”
    “Let’s just hope the thieves are
looking for hubcaps and not a radio,” Paul said ominously. “If they
want your radio, they’ll break a window.”
    “And then the alarm will go off,”
Daphne said with a chuckle. “Vigilantes will stream into the
streets. Spotlights will glare. Police from three precincts will
write reports.” The sound of her quiet laughter helped to calm her
nerves.
    She had mixed feelings about
attending this party. She always enjoyed seeing Andrea and Eric and
Phyllis—although she could happily do without Phyllis’s Significant
Other—and she was especially pleased that the Perskys would be at
the party, too. Seeing Brad was what made her edgy.
    More specifically, what made her
edgy was seeing Brad in the context of a party. The two of them had
gotten along well during their forays into the New Jersey housing
market. They had both proven that they were mature and civilized,
able to function in each other’s company on a professional basis,
able even to loosen up and joke with each other on a certain level.
But house-hunting was business. At a party, there would be booze
and music and hordes of people—all in all, an atmosphere painfully
reminiscent of a night in Daphne’s past that she’d prefer to
forget.
    At least she had Paul with her.
Although she hadn’t explicitly mentioned it to him, her primary
reason for bringing him along was for protection. His company would
keep her from dwelling on the last party she’d been to where Brad
was also in attendance. At least she hoped it would.
    Apparently persuaded that Daphne
honestly didn’t mind driving, Paul relaxed in his seat as best he
could, given his lanky build. He had the sort of broom-handle
physique that baggy trousers emphasized, and he tended to dress
with enough panache to be considered a far-out dude by his
students. Despite the evening gloom, his hair seemed to glow. Given
its coppery color and its short, curly tufts, Paul’s hair reminded
Daphne of a shredded carrot salad.
    In his stylishly loose trousers,
checked shirt and defiantly geeky bowtie, he appeared more
fashionable than Daphne. When she’d picked him up at his apartment
half an hour ago, he had assured her that she looked terrific.
Being a realist, she didn’t aspire that high; she’d be content to
look reasonably good. Attired in a swirling skirt with a colorful
floral pattern and a violet scoop-necked sweater, with her hair
falling in golden ripples around her lightly made-up face, she had
more or less attained that modest goal.
    When she’d chosen her outfit that
evening, she had tried to convince herself