Read Until I Saw Your Smile Online
Authors: J.J. Murray
Until I Saw Your Smile (25 page)
“I can set it up,” Matthew said, “but as you heard on the tape, Timothy hasn't left his house in two years.”
“I'll gladly make another house call,” Dr. Penn said. “I need the exercise.”
Matthew took out his phone. “When would be the best time for you to meet with Timothy?”
“Soon,” Dr. Penn said. “He needs help now.”
“Could you see him today?” Matthew asked.
Dr. Penn looked out the window at a literal wall of snow. “Hmm. Today would be fine, but only if I can see him within the next two hours. Will you look at that? It's been a couple years since our last blizzard. We were due for this one.”
“They live over near Milly's at Berry and South Second,” Matthew said.
“I know the place,” Dr. Penn said. “It still has the old vinyl Coke signs out front.”
“So . . . in an hour? Two?”
“Make it two,” Dr. Penn said. “I need to find my snowshoes.”
Matthew blinked. “Your . . . snowshoes.”
“I have a pair,” Dr. Penn said. “Got them after the blizzard of 2006, and they came in mighty handy during the blizzard of 2010. Go ahead and call them while I try to find those shoes.” He stood and walked downstairs.
Matthew called Gloria's work number. “How's Timothy doing?”
“Better,” she said. “He's eating two meals a day now. He even answered the phone when I called him during my lunch break.”
That sounds promising.
“When will you be home?”
“When will you be home?”
“They're sending us home early because of the snow,” Gloria said. “I'll be home in twenty minutes or so. Why?”
“I'm sending a psychiatrist named Dr. Kenneth Penn to talk to Timothy,” Matthew said. “Dr. Penn was an army medic in Vietnam, and he'll be there in about two hours. I thought we could use his expert knowledge.” Matthew told her about the call to Dr. Wick. “I hope this doesn't put you out.”
“No,” Gloria said. “I'm simply amazed how fast you work, Mr. McConnell.”
Dr. Penn clunked up the stairs holding an enormous pair of snowshoes.
“Expect Dr. Penn to arrive at your place in two hours,” Matthew said. “He will be wearing his snowshoes.”
“His . . . snowshoes,” Gloria said.
“I'll let him explain why he has them,” Matthew said. “Give my best to Timothy.”
“I will,” Gloria said. “Thank you, Mr. McConnell.”
He closed his phone. “Those are huge.”
“They work,” Dr. Penn said.
“About your fee,” Matthew said.
Dr. Penn set his snowshoes on the floor. “Don't worry about it. Glad to help.”
“Are you sure?” Matthew asked.
“Sure I'm sure,” he said. “I'm doing this as a favor to Angela.” He placed his feet on the snowshoes.
Matthew stood. “How do you know the Smiths?”
“Oh, only in passing,” Dr. Penn said. “Whenever I need real coffee I can afford or the most delicious pastries on this or any other planet, I go to Smith's Sweet Treats. My children always loved their cookies.”
Matthew waited to hear more, but Dr. Penn said no more.
How, then, is he a friend of the family?
How, then, is he a friend of the family?
Dr. Penn stepped off the snowshoes. “A pleasure meeting you, Matthew. Thank you for being Angela's friend.”
“Sure.”
Something's not clicking here. A friend of the family should know more about the family.
Something's not clicking here. A friend of the family should know more about the family.
“After I meet with Timothy, I'll write up my report,” Dr. Penn said. “I assume you'll need me for court.”
“I hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, yes, I will need you,” Matthew said.
Dr. Penn extended his hand. “I will be glad to help.”
Matthew shook his hand. “Thank you.”
While shaking off snow as he returned to Angela's, Matthew couldn't shake off his suspicions.
Dr. Penn is a retired psychiatrist who
still
makes house calls. He said he'd be glad to make
another
house call. He's doing this as a favor to Angela, who says he's a friend of the family but acts as if he doesn't know them well at all.
Dr. Penn is a retired psychiatrist who
still
makes house calls. He said he'd be glad to make
another
house call. He's doing this as a favor to Angela, who says he's a friend of the family but acts as if he doesn't know them well at all.
And Angela punched in Dr. Penn's phone number without looking at the business card.
“Thank you for being Angela' s friend,” he says. Is Angela his patient? She might be. She's certainly anxious when she's out with me. She's anxious whenever she's outside at any time. All those locks and the heavy-duty steel doors in the back. She's afraid of something, and maybe she hugged me so fiercely because she was scared.
But she let me leave right after that hug.
What could that woman possibly be afraid of? Love? I hope not.
She takes my elbow, not my hand, hugs the skin off me, and seems hesitant to touch me unless
she
initiates the contact. And when I touch her, she . . . recoils.
she
initiates the contact. And when I touch her, she . . . recoils.
What happened to her?
Snow cascaded like a waterfall in front of Angela's, and the sidewalk was covered by at least four inches of snow. He glanced across the street and didn't see La Estrella's garish neon lights.
He stamped his feet just inside the door, and the sound seemed to echo. The dining area was empty, and Angela sat on her stool in front of the counter reading a newspaper.
“When did La Estrella close?” he asked.
Angela folded the paper. “About an hour ago.”
“Good for us.” He advanced toward the counter.
She looked around the empty dining area. “Really?” Angela poured him a large cup of coffee. “How'd it go with Dr. Penn?”
He reached for the cup.
Angela drew it away and walked around the counter to the booth.
So
now
she wants to talk. So do I.
now
she wants to talk. So do I.
Matthew sat, Angela sliding in beside him.
“So, how did it go?” she asked.
She certainly seems eager to know.
“Dr. Penn is going to make another house call.”
“Dr. Penn is going to make another house call.”
Angela exhaled softly. “Oh?”
“I didn't know psychiatrists made house calls, did you?” Matthew asked.
“Dr. Penn evidently does.” She gripped her cup. “When will he see Timothy?”
She's about to crush that cup.
“In about two hours,” Matthew said, taking a sip of his coffee. “This is so good. It's like taking a sip of heaven.” He nudged her knee with his. “Dr. Penn says he likes your coffee and pastries. Does he visit you often?”
“In about two hours,” Matthew said, taking a sip of his coffee. “This is so good. It's like taking a sip of heaven.” He nudged her knee with his. “Dr. Penn says he likes your coffee and pastries. Does he visit you often?”
“Not . . . very often,” Angela said. She looked at an older white couple banging through the door and shaking off snow. “It's Mr. and Mrs. Visco.” She stood. “They're kind of loud,” she whispered. “And they never tip.”
“Angie, did you see?” Mrs. Visco yelled, “La Estrella is closed!”
Angela rolled her eyes and went behind the counter, popping up two large cups. “Some people just can't handle a little storm, Mrs. Visco.”
“Why'd they even open for business in the first place?” Mr. Visco asked. “They're open, they're closed.”
Angela poured their coffee. “The usual?”
“To go this time, Ange,” Mr. Visco said. “We want to get home before it gets too bad out there. The wind's already kicking up.”
Angela bagged two of everything in her showcase.
That's a substantial “usual.”
“It has all the ingredients of a blizzard, Angie,” Mrs. Visco said. “Will you be open tomorrow?”
“I'll be open.” She took their money, gave them their change, and handed Mr. Visco the bag.
A buzzer sounded from the kitchen.
“I'll be back,” Angela said, and she hurried back to the kitchen.
Yeah, I'd run away from them, too. Oh, here they come to shout at me.
Mr. and Mrs. Visco stopped beside Matthew's booth.
“So you're the coffeehouse lawyer,” Mrs. Visco said.
“Yes.”
And I'm only a few feet away from you, ma'am. Maybe they can't hear themselves talk unless they shout.
And I'm only a few feet away from you, ma'am. Maybe they can't hear themselves talk unless they shout.
“I may have you look over our estate plan,” Mr. Visco said. “I'm sure it needs some work.”
“I'd be glad to,” Matthew said.
Mrs. Visco stared at the front window. “It's getting bad out there.”
“It'll be fine, Vi,” Mr. Visco said. “It's not supposed to be as bad as the blizzard of 2006. Twenty-seven inches we got from that one.”
Mrs. Visco shivered. “We didn't get out of our apartment for three days.”
“And that one was nothing compared to the blizzard of '78.” He smiled at Matthew. “Probably before your time.”
“I was only a baby then,” Matthew said.
“We had hurricane-force winds during that one,” Mr. Visco said. “They had thirty inches of drifting snow out on Long Island.”
“That last one we had was pretty bad, too,” Mrs. Visco said. “A day or two after Christmas, wasn't it?”
“I believe it was, Vi.” He turned to Matthew, setting the bag on the table. “I had invested in a snow blower by then.”
Mrs. Visco frowned. “Smoky thing.”
“But it made a clear path for us, didn't it, dear?” Mr. Visco asked.
“If you call coughing the entire time walking,” Mrs. Visco said.
“Didn't we come here that day?” Mr. Visco squinted. “I think we did. But Angie was closed. Funny, I remember that now. I pushed that blower all the way from our house to that door, but the door was locked, wasn't it, Vi?”
“I think you're right,” Mrs. Visco said. “It's the only time I remember Smith's being closed in all the years it's been here.” She nodded at the front window. “Unlike
them.
I'll bet they'll be closed for a week.”
them.
I'll bet they'll be closed for a week.”
“Two weeks.” Mr. Visco picked up his bag. “We better be going. I need to get some gas for the blower. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Matthew said.
After they left, Angela brought out a tray of fresh oatmeal and raisin cookies and placed them in front of Matthew.
“Are they all for me?” Matthew asked.
“Not all of them.” She picked up a cookie. “Weren't they a trip?”
“They were nice,” Matthew said, folding a warm cookie and popping it into his mouth.
“They're excellent customers, and they've always been loud,” Angela said. “My mama tells me I used to hold my ears whenever they were in the shop when I was little.”
Matthew swallowed and took a sip of coffee. “They told me they once came here, and you were closed, Angie, during the blizzard of 2010.”
“I
hate
that name,” Angela said. “Do I look like an Angie? It's almost as bad as Mr. Visco calling me âAnge' or someone calling me Angel. I'm no angel. And the
way
she says it. I'm Brooklyn, but that woman is from the bottom of the brook.”
hate
that name,” Angela said. “Do I look like an Angie? It's almost as bad as Mr. Visco calling me âAnge' or someone calling me Angel. I'm no angel. And the
way
she says it. I'm Brooklyn, but that woman is from the bottom of the brook.”
Hmm. She tried valiantly to deflect my question, but I'm not flinching.
“So, were you closed that day?”
“So, were you closed that day?”
Angela's eyes darted to her hands. “Yes. I think I was. The whole neighborhood shut down.”
“What was that like?” Matthew asked.
“It was pretty quiet.” She picked up another cookie.
“So that's been your only day off ever?” Matthew asked.
She took a bite and nodded.
“What did you do on your day off,
Ange
?” Matthew asked.
Ange
?” Matthew asked.
“Well,
Matt,
I couldn't go anywhere, could I?” Angela said. “Twenty inches of snow, high winds, snowdrifts everywhere. I lost power a few times. I was upstairs . . . for most of it.”
Matt,
I couldn't go anywhere, could I?” Angela said. “Twenty inches of snow, high winds, snowdrifts everywhere. I lost power a few times. I was upstairs . . . for most of it.”
He stretched his arm out behind her, gripping the top of the booth. “How did you stay warm?”
Angela immediately leaned forward. “I have something called blankets.”
I put my arm up, and she leans forward.
He pulled his arm back.
He pulled his arm back.
Angela leaned back into the seat.
That's . . . not normal.
“What if this storm turns into a blizzard?”
“What if this storm turns into a blizzard?”
“As long as I have power, I'll stay open,” Angela said.
Let's try this again.
He rested his arm on top of the booth behind her.
He rested his arm on top of the booth behind her.
Angela leaned forward.
Is she doing that on purpose?
“But how will you stay warm if you lose power, Angie?”
“But how will you stay warm if you lose power, Angie?”
“I still have blankets,
Matty,
” she said.
Matty,
” she said.
He slipped his hand off the top of the booth and rubbed her back.
Angela's shoulders tensed.
Matthew lifted his hand, returning his arm to the top of the booth. “It's getting pretty thick out there. I may not be able to see well enough to get home. I'd hate to start home and end up in the East River.”
“Or Manhattan,” Angela said. “Or Bushwick, or the Bronx, or Queens, or Staten Island, or Long Island, or Trinidad, Haiti, or Honduras.” She glanced up at the window. “You should leave now while it's not too bad.”
She
really
doesn't like my arm behind her.
He pulled his arm back and folded his hands in his lap. “And not help you clean up? I can't miss my daily workout. You're getting me back into shape.”
really
doesn't like my arm behind her.
He pulled his arm back and folded his hands in his lap. “And not help you clean up? I can't miss my daily workout. You're getting me back into shape.”
Angela leaned back in the booth. “I haven't exactly been busy, and I probably won't get many more customers.”
Time for one more experiment.
He slid his left hand to her right thigh. “I want to stay. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be snowed in with.”
He slid his left hand to her right thigh. “I want to stay. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be snowed in with.”
Angela scooted to her left, Matthew's hand dropping to the seat. “You don't have to stay. I'll be fine.” She slid out of the booth and stared out the front window, her eyes glazing over.
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