Jenny seemed better about things for a while, but began complaining again with just a couple months left on the project. During a call on one of my trips, she admitted her ex-boyfriend had called her a few times lately and told her he wanted them to get back together. Jenny told me she thought about it a lot and realized she made a mistake in leaving him. She said she had already retrieved her things from my place and left the key next to the coffee maker. Wonderful.
My neighbor, Karen kept an eye on my place when I traveled. It was well after dark when I got home that Friday night. I noticed Karen looking out the window as I got my bags out of the truck and waved as I headed into the house. I watched TV for a while before turning in for what I expected to be a fitful night of sleep, if I slept.
Saturday morning I awoke at the time I normally get up for work. I decided to go ahead and get in a workout on my home gym in the basement. It helped burn off some steam and gave me something other than Jenny to think about for a while. As I finished and headed up for breakfast, the doorbell rang. Still in my workout clothes I opened the door to find Karen standing on the porch with a gift bag in her hand.
“Hi, Mike. Sorry to interrupt your work out,” she said. “There is a piece of your mail that was delivered to my house by mistake and some warm banana bread in here for you,” she explained as she handed me the bag.
“No problem, I had just finished the workout,” I said. She smiled as I sniffed the contents of the bag and added, “You are too good to me, Karen.”
Karen hesitated a bit, “Mike, Jenny was here and took a couple of boxes of things from the house while you were gone. I don’t mean to pry, but is everything okay?”
Her face showed genuine care and concern as I told Karen about my break up with Jenny. Having suffered loss, Karen was empathetic to people going through tough times. Her husband was killed in a car wreck a couple years before I moved into the neighborhood. Karen taught science at the middle school and kept busy, but she still seemed a bit lost without her husband. At 48, she was an attractive woman and while she dated some, there was still no steady man in her life.
In a soft voice, Karen said, “Mike, I’m sorry to hear that. I know you liked Jenny a lot.”
“Thanks, Karen. I sort of saw this coming, but I guess I didn’t do enough to avoid it. Be careful on your trip,” I said and watched as she walked away.
Yard work and some overdue maintenance on the house dominated my schedule when I was home over the next few months. It helped take my mind off Jenny and I saved some money doing the work myself. Karen was working around her place too, so we helped each other out on bigger projects and the hedge row between our properties. Over pizza and beers on a couple of those nights, we talked more than we ever had before. We even took in a couple movies and had a casual dinner out a couple of nights when we needed a break. The time together revealed we had some similar tastes in music, books and other interests and we got to know each other a lot better.
The neighborhood block party was on Labor Day weekend and I asked Karen to go with me, intending to suggest we go out for dinner later that evening. Karen looked fabulous in a casual summer dress and sandals. There were a few times that she touched my arm or I placed a hand on the small of her back as we talked and mingled. It felt comfortable and natural being with her, as if we were a couple. When the party wound down, Karen seemed a bit nervous as she turned to me.
“Mike, I have everything ready at my house to bake lasagna and toss a salad for dinner,” she said. After pausing to take a quick breath, she added, “I would really like it if you join me tonight.”
After eating sandwiches and chain restaurant food most of the week while I was away, one of Karen’s home cooked meals sounded wonderful on its own. If pressed to be honest though, it was Karen's company I most wanted that evening and I sensed she was felt the same way.
“That sounds wonderful, Karen,” I responded. “I’ll bring a bottle of wine, if that’s okay with you.”
Karen lit up as she replied, “Perfect! See you for cocktails at 6 o’clock and don’t be late,” she said. She surprised me when she took my hand and rose up on her toes to give me a quick peck on the cheek.
After I showered and laid out my clothes, I realized Karen had been on my mind more and more the last couple of months. She was 11 years older than me and, while that did not matter to me, it amazed me how much differently I saw her now than before. I was anxious to see what the evening brought, as an undeniable attraction to her had grown within me.
Karen greeted me and her hand caressed mine as I handed her the bottle of Italian Chianti. She was wearing a different dress now, one that accentuated her figure quite well. Her bare legs looked tan and toned in a pair of wedge heels. Her ash blond hair framed her face and seemed to reflect the sparkle in her eyes. She was more beautiful than I had ever seen her.
While the lasagna baked, we enjoyed a couple of mojitos and chatted about some early fall events in the area. We realized we wanted to do a couple of the same things and made some tentative plans. The conversation flowed well into and throughout dinner. Both of us occasionally touched the other’s arm or hand as we talked. By the time we had finished the wine, we were holding hands as we talked.
Karen made Irish coffees as I put dishes in the dishwasher. She brought out tiramisu that she admitted she had purchased from a local bakery. We stood leaning on the kitchen island as we talked and enjoyed the dessert, eating right from the disposable container. She fed me the last bite. As I finished it, my hand came to her cheek and tilted her head a bit as I leaned in for a soft and slow, first kiss on her full lips.
She leaned into me and wrapped her arms around me as our second kiss began, a bit firmer and with a slight slip of our tongues against each other at the end. She sighed and buried her face in my chest.
Karen softly asked, “Mike, how old are you?”
“I’m thirty seven, Karen,” I said cautiously.