“It’s all so beautiful. Like what I always pictured an apartment in New York City would look like,” Kerry said wistfully. She added, after a moment, “Now, I guess I can begin to understand why being here, with so many memories of him, was so painful for you.”
Heinz looked away, then went back to eating his soup. Kerry realized she was ravenously hungry and did the same. When she was finished, she took their dishes into the kitchen, and, mindful of the old man’s aversion to bugs, washed the dishes and set them to dry on a tea towel.
“You’ve been very quiet this afternoon,” Heinz said, when she returned to the dining room. “Did you finish the boy’s drawing?”
“Something like that,” Kerry said. She picked up Queenie’s leash, and a plastic bag. “C’mon, girl, let’s go brave the elements.”
“Could I see what you’ve done?” Heinz asked.
“I’d love that. In fact, I think the last bit could use something from you?”
“Oh?”
She went into the studio, got her jacket, hat, and gloves, and the sketchbook, which she placed on the table near the old man. “I’ll be anxious to hear your thoughts.”
* * *
The streets outside were eerily quiet. Traffic noise from passing cars and buses was muted. More snow had fallen overnight and everything in the pocket park was blanketed in a thick white frosting. She greeted Taryn, who was watching as her husband helped the twins build a snowman. Queenie gave a short happy bark of recognition at the sight of the boys.
“You’re still here!” Taryn exclaimed. “I saw that your tree stand had been taken down and the camper was gone, so I just assumed you guys had headed for home.”
Kerry explained about the slashed tires and the impassable roads and Heinz’s health scare.
“I’m sorry about Spammy, and Heinz’s illness, but selfishly, I’m glad you’re still here. I’ll bet Austin and Patrick are glad too.”
“I think they are,” Kerry said.
“Will we be seeing you at all after Christmas?”
Kerry hesitated.
“Never mind,” Taryn said. “I am a hopeless romantic.” She gave Kerry a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, Kerry. I hope you and Patrick find a way to be together, no matter what.”
“I gotta go,” Kerry said, blushing. “Queenie and I have been cooped up inside all day. We both need to stretch our legs.”
* * *
When she returned to the apartment she found Heinz in the studio. He was bent over the easel, paintbrush in hand, but when she walked in, he quickly threw a cloth over whatever he’d been working on.
“You’re painting?” she asked.
“Dabbling. Sit, please.”
She did as he asked and he pointed to the sketchbook. “Kerry, I must apologize. You are an adult and you are perfectly capable of deciding how you want to live your life and pursue your art. I had no right to speak to you the way I did.”
“Sure you did,” Kerry said. “After all, I broke into your home, forced you to let me and our dog stay here, forced you to accept medical treatment. I’d say you have every right to speak your mind. Besides, you were absolutely right.”
“Is this where I say I told you so?” He smiled and tapped the sketchbook. “I saw that you left the last chapter of Austin’s story unfinished. So I took the liberty of assuming you meant for us to write the ending together?”
“Exactly,” Kerry said. She pulled the chair closer to the table and Heinz opened the sketchbook to show her what he’d drawn.
“It’s perfect,” she declared. “Except for one thing I think we need to add.”
chapter 53
The doorbell rang shortly after six and before Kerry could answer, Austin burst into the apartment, followed closely by Patrick, Murphy, and Claudia, all of them loaded down with shopping bags.
“Merry Christmas, Kerry,” Austin called out. “Guess what? We brought lights for the Christmas tree. And presents. And pie!”
“And dinner,” Claudia said, standing in the middle of the living room taking in the view of the apartment. “Wow. What a place. Now, where’s the kitchen?”
* * *
“Oh my.” Heinz looked at the faces gathered around his dining room table, at the remnants of the four-course feast Claudia had provided, and his own half-finished dish of tiramisu.
“I am … overwhelmed,” he admitted.
“I know, I know. Too much rich food. My mom always did the same thing. Blame it on me coming from a restaurant family,” Claudia said. “But you hardly ate anything, Heinz.”
“This is the most food I’ve eaten in a very long time, and what I did eat was delicious,” he said. “No, what I meant was, I’m overwhelmed, at all of you—for your kindness, for caring for me.” He tossed Kerry a knowing look. “For rescuing me despite myself.”
“You were really, really sick,” Austin said, scraping the last bit of whipped cream from his dish. “But you look a lot better now.”
“I feel better,” Heinz admitted.
Austin looked around at the apartment. “Are you mad at us?”
“Me? No, why would I be mad at you?”
“Because Kerry and my dad made you move out of that dungeon. How come you wanted to live down there instead of up here?” Austin asked. “That place was dark and creepy and cold, but this place is nice and warm and it has big windows and a sofa and room for your friends.”
“Austin!” Patrick’s voice held a sharp note.
Heinz took a sip of water. “That’s a very good question, my young friend. And the answer is that a long time ago, when I was living here, I lost someone I loved.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Where did your friend go? How did he get lost?”
“He died,” Heinz said, choosing his words carefully. “This person was my whole world. And after he died, I couldn’t bear to live here, with all the happy memories this place held for us. Everything here reminded me of him, and it made me very, very sad. So I decided I would live someplace else, where I wouldn’t always be thinking about him.”
“Oh.” Austin seemed to be turning Heinz’s rationale over and over in his mind as the adults exchanged anxious glances.
“Okay,” Patrick said, a little too heartily. “Who’s ready to open some Christmas gifts and drink some hot chocolate?”
“Me!” Austin said.
“But first some wine,” Claudia said, jumping to her feet.
* * *
“Do you like the tree, Mr. Heinz?” Austin asked. “It was all my idea. And me and my dad bought the lights.”
“It’s beautiful,” Heinz said. He was sitting in an armchair beside the tree, with a mug of tea clasped between his hands. “How did you know this is always where we used to have our tree when George was alive?”
“Who was George?” Austin asked. “Why did he die?”
“Austin…” Patrick started.
“It’s all right,” Heinz said. He pointed to the portrait above the fireplace. “That was George. He died very suddenly. It was a huge shock.”