The Name Game Excerpt

Meg was prompt. “John? May I come in?” How strange to be asking permission to enter her own home!

“Please do,” John invited, holding the door wide for her this time. “I’ve just made a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”

After drinking nothing but instant coffee made on her hot plate, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee smelled heavenly to Meg, but she tempered her enthusiasm. “That would be very nice, thank you.”

John served the coffee in Meg’s best china cups, the ones she usually saved for special occasions. She had to bite her tongue to keep from suggesting that he use her Corningware dishes for every day. She watched him cut generous wedges of apple pie and place them on two thin Haviland dessert plates. “Thank you,” she said, giving him a tight smile.

When he was seated and sipping his coffee, she began. “First, I want to explain about the telephone. I’m sorry that I have only been able to get one line, with an extension in my apartment downstairs. However, I want you to feel that the phone is yours. I will keep my calls to a minimum, and I will answer only after the third ring when I’ll assume that you are not available.”

“But what if the caller asks to speak to you?”

Meg thought for a moment. “If that happens,” she said, “Use the broom handle to knock three times on the floor. I’ll hear you and pick up the extension.”

“Fair enough. And if you answer a call that is meant for me, will you do the same? That is, will you knock on your ceiling three times so that I will hear you?”

“Yes, that should work. I don’t think you will find this an inconvenience, because I don’t expect to be receiving many calls.” Meg lifted her cup to her lips and savored the full-bodied flavor of coffee, a gourmet blend, she would guess. And drinking from the delicate, gold-rimmed cup seemed to enrich the taste and heighten her enjoyment.

“Now, what else was there that you wanted us to discuss?” Austin was giving her an opportunity to say everything that was on her mind before he began to tell her of his own concerns.

Meg decided to delay a discussion of parking the cars until she could come up with a workable solution. As unsatisfactory as it was to park her small car on the narrow, roadside ledge, parking her tenant’s huge sedan there would be impossible. Instead, she turned her attention to his computer and printer positioned on one side of her solid maple dining table. “John, do you suppose it would be asking too much to have you put a towel beneath your equipment in order to protect my table? You see, I would hate to have it scratched, and . . . ”

“Of course. I should have thought of that myself. I’ll take care of it at once. Now, what else do we need to talk about.”

“Well, uh . . .” Here she hesitated. This might prove to be a little stickier.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “We want to get everything out on the table.”

“It’s just that you seem to get up so early, and, well, I do need my sleep, and . . .”

“Now, look here, Miss Donnelly!”

Meg took it as a bad sign that he had reverted to using her last name. She saw the color in his cheeks intensify.

He struggled for patience. “I will abide by the strange telephone answering system, and I will put down not one but two towels to make sure your table does not get a single scratch, but Miss Donnelly, I refuse to adjust my work schedule to yours, and if that poses a problem for you, then one of us will have to find another place to spend the summer.”

“Really, Mr. Austin! I hardly think we need to get so worked up about this thing. I am quite willing to make certain adjustments, but all I am asking is that you show a little consideration by keeping the noise level down until seven o’clock.”

“Is there anything more?” he inquired tersely, without issuing any promises.

“Just that — would you mind terribly if I had another cup of that coffee before I leave? It’s very good.”

Austin rose and filled her cup. “Now, may I have a turn? Because I have a request of my own.”

“Certainly,” she said, trying to steady the hand that raised her coffee cup to her lips. “What can I do for you.”

“Nothing, really.” He noted the questioning arch of her eyebrows. “I mean that literally. Nothing. I need nothing except to be left alone.”

Meg sloshed coffee on the table in her haste to rise to her feet. “Well, please excuse me,” she said, moving toward the door. “You will not be bothered by my presence again, Mister Austin.”

He stepped in front of her, barring her path to the door. “Meg, wait. Don’t leave in anger. I’m sorry to be so blunt. Just let me explain . . . “

“There’s no need — “ she began.

“But I really want to. Please sit down and hear me out.”

Meg stopped to hear what he had to say, but she did not sit down.

“I brought some important work with me when I came here; work that must be finished before I leave. As much as I would enjoy getting to know you better, I simply cannot afford the luxury of leisure until my work is finished. I shouldn’t have sounded so unfriendly because I do appreciate your kindness, but I simply don’t know any pleasant way to state my case.”

Meg’s anger brought a rush of blood to her face. She struggled to find a smart retort that would let this egotistical man know that her own schedule was as busy as his, and that she, too, would welcome a pact of privacy.