A Winter Dream(16)
“You’re no bother. It’s nice to have company.”
I carried my cup back to my table while April disappeared through a back door. I continued looking around the room at the portraits, quizzing myself until my coffee was gone. I returned my cup to the counter. “April?”
She walked out from the back. “Finished?”
“Yes. I’d just let myself out, but I didn’t want to leave the door unlocked.” I smiled wryly. “You never know who might wander in.”
She smiled back. “No, you never know. I’ll let you out.”
I followed her to the door. She unlocked it, then put out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Joseph. I hope you come back sometime.”
“It was my pleasure. Thank you for the . . .” I was going to say coffee, instead I said, “. . . kindness.”
“Kindness,” she echoed. For a moment neither of us moved. She looked at me intently, then said softly, “Do you know you have sad eyes?”
Her question surprised me. “No. But it’s kind of a hard time.” I turned to go. “Thank you. Good night.”
I had only taken a step when she said, “Joseph.”
I turned back.
“Besides Robert Zemeckis, do you know anyone in Chicago?”
I shook my head. “Not a soul.”
“Maybe I could show you around sometime?”
Her offer surprised me. “I’d like that. When?”
“What’s your schedule like?”
“I’m not sure—I’m just starting a new job, but it’s probably the usual nine to five. How about you?”
“I work every day, but I have the weekends off. How about this Saturday?”
“Saturday would be good.”
“Do you want the day tour of Chicago or the nickel tour?”
“What’s the difference?”
She cocked her head. “About three hours.”
“I’ve got the whole day.”
“Then it’s the day tour. How about we meet here at nine. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“That sounds good. Nine it is. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Me too. Good night, Joseph.”
“Good night.”
Buttoning my coat, I stepped out onto the sidewalk. April locked the door behind me. In the time I’d been inside the diner the temperature had noticeably dropped and I walked briskly back to my apartment. Still, as cold as it was, I hardly noticed it. I guess I was pleasantly distracted.
Unfortunately, reality was still waiting for me back at my apartment and I tossed in bed most of the night. Too many unknowns. Too much to wonder. Too much to fear.
I wondered if my father would take my disappearance as betrayal or ingratitude. And I wondered if Ben’s guilt would get the better of him and if he’d tell my parents. As lonely and anxious as I was, I hoped he wouldn’t. My father would be furious with Ben, and considering how ruthless he’d been with my brothers of late, there was no telling what he might say or do to them. After all that had happened lately, this might not just destroy the agency, but the family as well. I didn’t want that for my father or them.
The best thing—the only thing—would be for the brothers to have a change of heart and bring me back home. As I looked up into the darkness, I wondered if that was even possible.
After a mostly restless night, I woke to the annoying beep of my travel alarm clock. The apartment’s radiator was more bark than bite, and in spite of its incessant groaning and clanking, my apartment was freezing. I dragged myself out of bed and stepped barefoot onto the cold hardwood floor.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The showerhead emitted a narrow, unsatisfying stream of tepid water.
I remembered my high school football coach razzing me with “Jacobson, you’re so skinny, you have to run around in the shower to get wet.” That was almost true in this shower, though my weight had nothing to do with it.
I had forgotten to buy soap, so I stepped out of the shower, only then realizing that I had also forgotten to pack a towel. I walked to the kitchen dripping wet and grabbed the dishwashing soap and paper towels. I washed my hair with the soap, which worked surprisingly well, then wiped myself dry with paper towels.
The Leo Burnett agency was located on Wacker Drive in Chicago’s main business district, an area nicknamed the “Loop.” It was also just southwest from Michigan Avenue and what Chicagoans call the Magnificent Mile, an upscale section of the city containing department stores, restaurants and hotels.
When I had called for information on the apartment, Mrs. Walszak had given me directions to the Leo Burnett office. I was told to walk to the Jefferson Park station and take the Blue Line of the ‘L,’ the elevated train, to the Clark/Lake station, which would let me off just a half block from the Leo Burnett building.