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It was early October now,and after living here since late August, Noah knew the voice he heard singing when he walked into the apartment did not sound like Julie’s. He knew her sweet singing voice. And her complaining voice. Could even tell by the tone she used on the phone whether she was talking to her dad or a girlfriend. Or a guy.
What disturbed him most was that he had become increasingly obsessive about listening and observing and learning everything he could about this girl he found so fascinating and funny and beautiful.
“Hello?” he called as he walked in. It was a Wednesday, the day he usually had a clear slate of study time at home after his morning class, as Julie had a longer interior design lab at the college and often went out with friends afterward.
A squarely built Black woman, maybe forty or fifty, hair pulled back tight, wearing a colorful print blouse and maroon trousers, stepped out of the kitchen and eyed him up and down while he stood there like a jerk not sure what to say.
“So you are Noah Taylor.”
“Yes?”
“Sounds like a question. You don’t know your own name?” She had a slight Caribbean lilt to her speech.
“No. I mean, yes, I’m Noah. Are you a friend of Julie’s?”
One side of her mouth lifted and she snickered. “I raised that baby girl and always keep an eye out for anyone who might hurt her. So don’t you forget that, Noah Taylor.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Seconds passed while she gave him what felt like the evil eye. Luckily he remembered… “You’re Mariel Duquesne.”
Uh-oh. Noah had already learned how important this woman was to Julie and wondered if she would ask him to leave if Mariel did not like him.
He was relieved when a big smile formed across the woman’s face and she seemed to shift the whole energy in the room with her presence. “If she told you my name, then you must be all right.”
Then she turned and went back to the kitchen. And Noah headed to his room. Most days he encountered some kind of surprise living with Julie. Like the day he had come home to find out a gay friend of Julie’s had an apartment-cleaning service and did their place regularly. He’d raced to his room to make sure nothing had been touched. But, of course, it had. And everything had been put back exactly as he’d left it, except the floors and shelves were now clean, new sheets put on his bed.
Julie also liked to move the furniture around in the main area, especially if she’d bought a new chair or sculpture or lamp. Then she would make coffee and invite him to “feel the new design,” which he would pretend to understand while soaking up the great feeling of just being near Julie.
After a knock on his bedroom door, it opened before he could say anything, and Mariel’s head peeked in. “Come show me which table she eats at now. I know how fussy she is about that.”
Noah closed the document he’d started and followed Mariel out to the open plan living room-dining room area. He pointed out the glass table with chrome legs—Julie’s latest purchase—that she had placed next to the windows instead of in the nook where the last one had been.
Mariel got a sweet-sad look on her face and said, “You know, the furniture is the family she never had.”
“What do you mean?” Noah asked, surprised by her comment.
“How much do you remember from when you were three or four years old?”
He shrugged. “Nothing, really. Maybe a colorful striped ball, but even that is a vague image.”
“Exactly. Julie was not quite four when her mother died. So she has a big hole where a mother should be.”
“But you filled that. She told me you’ve always been a mother to her.”
Mariel tilted her head. “Aww, aren’t you a sweet talker.”
“I’m not making it up. It’s what she told me. That was how I knew your name.”
“I tried my best, but I couldn’t fill a big empty house with people. The same with the six-bedroom penthouse. Her father had already been the kind of man who escaped into his work, more devoted to that than to his family, but when his wife died, he buried his sorrow in working nonstop, setting up branches of his firm all over the world, never giving a thought to his children that needed him.”
Noah had heard Julie hint at this more than once. “It is a common trait of geniuses to be self-centered.”
Mariel nodded. “She had one aunt who occasionally visited, but the nasty woman used to pick on Julie and upset her. Bryce was good to his little sister, but by the time she was seven, Bryce was sent off to a boys’ boarding school anyway, so he was not around for months. And he was so like his father, especially as he got older. He was the kind of boy who could stay in his room for hours building models or reading or drawing or exploring on his computer. Much more independent and confident than Julie.”
“Didn’t Julie go to boarding school too?”
“Yes. Not until she was twelve though. I had hoped it would help, that she would make a lot of friends there, but she hated it. She had already become the girl who trusted no one except her nanny and a brother who couldn’t always be there for her. Agirl who’d learned to prefer the company of furniture and objects while hoping that someday her famous father would actually see her.”
Noah’s heart broke for Julie, but he was also confused. “She seems to have a lot of friends now.”
