It was then he heard the voice, as if from outside, across the street, somewhere along South Broadway.
‘I said, are you having any luck?’ It was Hannah. Startled from his reverie, Steven jumped to his feet and in the process kicked a pile of rejects across the faded tile floor.
‘Oh, damnit, I’m sorry about that.’ He moved awkwardly to his hands and knees and began gathering up the scattered keys. ‘I’ll have them all together in just a second.’
‘Well, let me help you,’ she said, laughing, and joined him on the floor. ‘I take it you haven’t found any that fit the cabinet.’
‘No, not yet.’ Steven stopped and watched Hannah. In his mind, he heard himself saying over and over again, ‘ I ring the bells of Notre Dame. ’
She stopped as well and, on all fours between rows of mahogany and walnut china cabinets, said, ‘You know, you’re well over halfway through the jar. I can help you with the rest after we get these picked up.’
‘That would be nice of you.’ Steven allowed a long breath to escape his lungs. She was dressed similarly to the evening before, but this morning her hair hung loose about her face and across her shoulders.
‘Um-’ Now Hannah hesitated. ‘Are you free for lunch?’
‘Most days, yeah… unless of course Howard makes me go to Owen’s with him.’
Hannah giggled, then looked embarrassed. ‘No, silly, I meant today. Are you free for lunch today?’
Steven was stunned. She had taken him by surprise, and despite his heart bellowing a cacophonous, white-knuckle rhythm through his ears, he almost managed to control his voice when he replied, ‘I’d love to.’
As they walked to the Mexican restaurant Hannah had chosen, she did most of the talking, chatting about her grandfather and the store. Steven was happy just to listen. He had managed to put his foot in his mouth so often since meeting her that he welcomed the reprieve. The restaurant was busy with a large Saturday lunch crowd, but Hannah located a booth near the back where they could enjoy the illusion of privacy. Although Steven was far from hungry – breakfast was still sitting a little heavy – he made certain to order enough to make lunch last as long as possible. He soon discovered Hannah needed little convincing; she appeared in no rush to get back to the shop.
Hannah was a full-time law student at the University of Denver. She had originally studied political science, then took a job with a charitable organisation, but after three years there decided she could better serve those in need as a lawyer. ‘I don’t expect to make much money at it, but in the long run, I hope to have a greater impact this way,’ she explained, stuffing shredded chicken and guacamole into a fajita.
When Steven tried, delicately, to broach the topic of other men, she told him she had recently broken off a long-distance relationship with a boyfriend from college who had moved to Atlanta.
‘Was it the distance that created problems for you?’ Steven asked, feeling encouraged.
‘No, I think it was more his tendency to engage in short-distance relationships while in a long-distance relationship with me.’ She took a bite of her fajita, then, with her mouth full, asked a muffled, ‘How about you?’
‘Me? Oh, God no. I haven’t been involved with anyone for the past three years. I finished my MBA, misplayed a couple decent job offers, partly because they were risks and partly because they were… well, mostly because they were risks. I’m not much of a risk taker,’ he said, folding and unfolding a corner of his napkin.
‘I know. I could tell. I mean, how many of those keys were you really going to examine before you talked to me? And your truck was outside the store before I arrived this morning. So I thought I’d take the gamble and help you out.’ She looked at Steven, waiting for a response. ‘Was that okay?’
‘Well, you did interrupt my carefully planned schedule of seven hours’ courage-building before twelve seconds of stumbling over myself and two hours of grovelling, but all things being equal, I’m glad you did.’ He grinned. ‘I’m really glad you did.’
‘So am I,’ she said as she reached across the table to take his hand. As before, Steven’s heart leaped as he felt her fingers wrap around his for a moment. Then, feeling awkward, as if she were moving too fast, Hannah pulled back, waved for their server and ordered a cup of coffee.
Steven changed the subject. ‘You know, I’m halfway through that jar. It’d be a shame to have those cabinet keys sitting there near the bottom, never to be reunited.’
‘Well, I look forward to helping you in your search,’ she told him. Steven watched as she stirred sugar into her coffee mug. She really was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but more than that, she was beautiful without trying. He was always disillusioned by the concept of supermodels and film stars who employed teams of specialists, spackling masons and airbrush artists to achieve that look of perfection. He imagined Hannah rolling out of bed, donning a sweatshirt to read the morning paper and still looking exquisite, her skin flawless and her hair cascading down her back. He wanted desperately to reach over and touch her face, but he was afraid he would scare her off. Surely he was the only man on earth to ever feel this level of insecurity and anxiety when trying to make an impression on a lovely woman. He would have to remember to ask Mark about it later.
Without pausing to think, he blurted out, matter-of-factly, ‘I have to see you again.’
Hannah stood, and Steven thought he should stand too, but he wasn’t certain that his legs would heed the command.
She smiled. ‘Let’s go find your keys and we’ll figure it out there.’
Walking back from the restaurant, Hannah held his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Steven talked this time, about living in the foothills, working at the bank and his plans to find a more rewarding career – if he could just figure out what that occupation should be. Prefacing his confession with: ‘No laughing,’ he even revealed his love for abstract maths.
Despite his warning, Hannah did laugh out loud, then asked, more seriously, ‘Why not become a mathematician?’
Steven kicked a discarded bottle-cap along the sidewalk. ‘Well, because there really is no money in maths, and because I’m not sure I’m very good at it. I love it, but I think – no, I’m certain – I’m quite slow. I have maths problems I’ve been trying to figure out for months now.’
Jennifer Sorenson did not seem to mind that her daughter had taken such a long lunch; she waved from across the showroom as they walked in.
‘I’ll go check to see if there’s anything she needs me to do,’ Hannah said, ‘while you get on with key-hunting.’
‘I’m going to find something else to buy so she sees it wasn’t time wasted,’ he called after her, and began searching the room for something outlandish he could buy for Mark or Howard. He soon located a vase that looked as if it had come from a 1920s speakeasy, blown glass moulded into the shape of a nude woman holding a top hat and cane. It was an absurdly ugly piece, perfect for Howard’s office.
‘I think I’ll call her Greta,’ Steven said, holding the vase aloft. ‘Howard will love her wide hips, and the way he can drink beer right from the top of her head.’
‘Please don’t feel obligated to buy anything else,’ Hannah told him. ‘My mother and I aren’t expecting to sell everything off during this sale.’
‘Are you kidding? Look at her: she’s pure kitsch, the perfect gift for a guy who has no taste. I’m not joking; Howard will love her.’
They spent the next hour talking while they went through the key jar, building up a pile of discards so enormous it blocked a whole aisle.