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By Root 1150 0

the door to watch Eberling from the hall. He was sitting on the ledge of the window, leaning back as if he were on a swing, soaping down the outside pane with his brush in figure eight over figure eight until his figure was blurred, until he appeared foam-streaked, and then skimmed it clear in the same motion of his squeegee, so he now appeared as though he’d just surfaced from the sea. He looked so much like her husband it was uncanny, though he was perhaps more handsome. He was leaner, for one thing. He’d stripped down to his undershirt, and she could make out the knots of muscle in his shoulders and stomach through the sopped fabric, could tell from just his hands that he was a strong man. Her husband’s hands were large, but they were soft, almost like a dentist’s, from all the scrubbing down. But mostly it was Eberling’s eyes that made him beautiful. They had the same color eyes, he and Sam, but Eberling’s were sad. Something had happened to him, and everything about him bespoke of this terrible event. Whenever he looked at her, it seemed he had something to tell her on the tip of his tongue.

“Dick?”

“Mrs. Houk?”

He pulled himself back inside the house. Stepping into the room, she said, “No, it’s Marilyn.”

He stared, sitting on the sill and blinking until his eyes adjusted, and then he looked down at the floor. “Hello, Mrs. Sheppard.”

Wanting to take his chin in her hand, she said, “I saw your van outside.” She was afraid to swallow.

He sat hunched at the window.

“I was thinking about next week,” she said, “and was wondering if you might come over to clean on Monday instead.” Her heart was racing. This was easier than she’d imagined. She could feel him waiting on everything she said. “Come over in the afternoon. Chip could go next door for a while. He won’t bother us.”

Eberling, still looking at the floor, was smiling now.

“Like I said, you could bring your swim trunks.” She moved closer to him. His skin was like wet copper, so dark he was almost black. “We could play.”

He stood there silently, not moving a muscle.

“Would you like that?” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “But … ”

“But what?”

“I wish it were sooner,” he said.

She couldn’t help it. She was whispering. Except for Sam, she’d never spoken to a man like this. “I wish it were too.” She couldn’t believe herself. “I wish it were tonight.”

Eberling seemed to process what she said, then looked up. She thought he almost looked angry.

“Mrs. Sheppard, will you tell me something?”

“Certainly.”

His exhaled loudly, through his nostrils. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

The question made her blink. “Of course not,” she said.

“You could like somebody like me?”

“Yes,” she said.

“For a long time?”

She shrugged, feeling a flash of doubt. “Why not?”

He looked down again, smiling at the floor.

“Monday, then?” she said.

He nodded.

“I have to go.”

She walked down the stairs, thinking, that’s all it took to become someone else. When Esther called good-bye, she didn’t answer. It was sweet and mysterious what Dick had said. For a long time. And it was odd. Even before love started, everyone wanted to make sure it would last.

She turned on the ignition and backed out, the Houks living only two houses down. She was about to shift gears when she saw Sam’s car parked in the driveway.

She drove up slowly, pulling in next to his Jaguar, then closed the door gently after she got out. She left the groceries in the car and, Chip in hand, approached the house as carefully as if she’d suspected there was a burglar inside. She entered through the kitchen. “Sam?” she called. There was no answer. She sent Chip off to play and opened the door to the basement, calling out Sam’s name again, then closed the door and went upstairs to their bedroom. He wasn’t there, but his bed was made. The sight of this made her heart skip a beat.

Through the window, she could hear Sam down by the boathouse.

She paused on the landing above it to regard Sam through the wooden railing. The wind had calmed some, but it was breezy enough that he couldn’t hear her approach. Dressed casually,