Der Witwer (The Widower)

Kevin's mind had not been idle either, even as he was driving from South Dakota to Denver. He had things to do.

The day after his return found him sitting in the same office where such a short time before he had purchased an expensive double-crypt in a West Side cemetery.

"Sure," the salesman told him, "There would be no problem getting your money back on the crypt. Moves and changes are made all the time. We are dedicated to providing our clients with complete satisfaction.

"In fact," the man confided to him, "we can resell the unit for even more than you paid for it. Have you thought of selling it privately? You could make a few bucks. Just put an add in the paper, or on the 'net. I'd bet you it sells within a week."

Kevin thought for a minute.

"No thanks. I'm sure that you're right, you know about your business, but I'm less concerned with making money than taking care of this 'situation' with the least trouble and effort.

"You see, it wasn't until this weekend that I found my wife's instructions on her burial wishes. She specifically asked to be cremated, and buried. I had completely misunderstood her when I originally purchased the crypt."

"I see," nodded the salesman. "Would you be interested in a pair of burial plots then?" he asked.

"No. Her family owns several plots at another cemetery out in Lancaster, and she wanted to be laid to rest there," Kevin explained.

They spent another hour clarifying the details before Kevin left.

He knew that he was elevating the art of pettiness to an altogether unmatched level, but it satisfied some of the visceral anger that had seized him upon discovering Jessica's secret life. He almost laughed, thinking of how he was, ultimately and in an irrevocable way, getting in a last stab at his already dead wife.

Kevin had been assured that within two weeks, his wife's body would be cremated, and her ashes buried in the small, desert cemetery, at the northern end of Los Angeles County.

And lest she be remembered, or her final resting place easily found, he had cancelled his order for a bronze memorial plaque. Somehow having her final resting place marked with a plaque that said: "The most beautiful, loving wife a man ever had — taken from us too early," just didn't appeal to Kevin anymore.

After a late lunch together in the Marina, Francesca and Kevin were able to pop up and check the status of his condo. Then off to Santa Monica for a walk on the beach, and back to the hotel room for a little afternoon delight. Kevin was definitely recovering his equilibrium, as the scales of justice were balanced.

The staff at the hotel assumed that Kevin and Francesca were newly-weds, since in their experience that was the only explanation for two people who couldn't seem to keep their hands off of each other.

They lay there together in bed, in the afterglow, when Francesca got a malevolent look in her eye, accompanied by an evil grin.

"Shall I turn it back on?" she asked Kevin.

"Sure, why not? It should be interesting and may provide some entertainment," he added.

With that, Francesca reactivated her cell phone. There were thirty-four messages awaiting her. She turned on the speaker so they could both listen to them together.

"Where the hell are you?" was how the first one started.

"You goddamn whore, the minute I'm out of sight you and my best friend..." was about the tenth.

"Did you have to rub my face in it..." went the twentieth.

"Listen Francesca, give me a call and let's talk about this, I'm sure we can get past it..." at number twenty-eight had a certain pleading tone to it.

"Please, Francesca, please call me, I beg you. It was always you I loved. Jessica was just sex..." the final message leaving no doubt that Steve was discovering the unrelenting and brutal nature of karma.

A naked Francesca looked at Kevin in the bed next to her.

"Shall I call him back?"

Kevin grinned.

"It might be amusing," he suggested.

Steve was still one of Francesca's speed dial numbers. She didn't bother with the speaker, so Kevin could only hear her side of the conversation, but he suspected he would pretty much know what Steve was saying anyway.

"Hello, Steve! How ya doing?" she asked, her voice as joyful as her face was radiant.

"Me? Just laying around enjoying myself. No, I'm having a great time without you, Steve.

"Hmmm. The doorman wouldn't let you up to my apartment? No, I guess not. Not that it matters. I don't live there anymore. No, you don't need to know where I'm living now.

"Am I breaking off our engagement? Well, duh. What did you think I meant when I left the ring on top of the emails in the bed? Damn right I'm breaking off our engagement.

"Yes, leaving a trail of clothes up to the bedroom was intended to convey a message. I thought that it would be clear enough for even a dolt like you to understand.

"Oh you can't find Kevin either? Here, let me hand him the phone."

"Hey Steve. You were right about Francesca. She's a wonderful woman. Beautiful, intelligent, charming, witty, fun to be with. Sexy and passionate too. You were holding out on me, man.

"Where are we? We're in bed.

"Of course 'together'."

There was a pause while Steve shouted into the phone. Kevin moved it away from his head until the outburst passed.

"Steve, that's rather small minded of you, everything considered.

"No, I'm not angry about you and Jessica anymore, but I don't think that I am likely to forgive you anytime soon. For one thing, you were supposed to be my best friend. Instead, you proved that you're a complete douche-bag.

"Oh, I'm not living there anymore either. I've rented it out. I actually don't know where the new place is, but I will be sharing it with Francesca.

"The same to you bro!" Kevin ended the conversation laughing.

"I don't think Steve is happy," Francesca asserted.

"I'm totally desolate at the thought," replied Kevin, not looking or sounding the slightest bit desolated. With a sympathetic look, Francesca reached over and stroked the side of Kevin's face.

"Oh, poor baby!"

Francesca and Kevin both got new numbers for their cell phones.

********

Over the next several weeks, Kevin and Francesca began their life together, sharing her new condo in a downtown high-rise. He tried to get her to accept money for rent, but she refused to accept it — part of her notion of balancing the symmetry of the world. She explained that she wasn't paying rent, so why should he?

While Kevin returned to work, he was still regarded as 'in mourning' and not putting in the billable hours that had been typical of his work ethic before Jessica's demise.

Despite his presumed grief, he and Francesca had become a notable 'item' around town. They could be seen watching Laker's games in the season box Francesca's family had at the Staples Center or dining out at WP24, the Yardhouse, or sometimes old standbys like El Cholo's. They went dancing at the newest, most faddish clubs on Sunset, in Hollywood.

Francesca even had a 'house warming' party at the new condo, inviting her large circle of friends, acquaintances and hangers-on from the L.A. upper-crust scene.

A slightly drunken Steve tried to crash the party, but the doorman, assisted by the building's security guy, quickly quashed that notion.

********

"Do you mind if I change the subject? I have a question," Kevin asked, leaning over and nuzzling Francesca's neck.

"I'm an open book," she replied.

"What is the perfume you wear? Do you know I just about swoon every time I get a whiff of you. You always smell so fresh and delicious. It makes me want to be close and inhale the air around you. Whatever it is, it's just lovely."

"How intuitive, darling!" Francesca exclaimed with a laugh.

"What ever do you mean?" Kevin asked, now suspicious, knowing that like most men his intuition was not his strong point.

Francesca continued dressing, putting her pants and blouse back on as she spoke.

"It's called 'Lovely.' 'A fresh, light scent smelling of apple and musk' is how I recall it described. I used to wear a similar scent called 'Light Blue', but I changed recently. And, by the way, men don't swoon. But if you ever feel like buying me a gift..."

Kevin had finished dressing, and was folding up the ground cloth and blankets they'd used. They needed the blankets because even though the days were warm, the high desert could be cold after sunset. He shook the ground cloth to knock off the dirt that had been picked up from the newly turned earth.

"Around you, I can swoon," he claimed. "Why don't you get into the car. I need to take care of one more thing before we drive back to L.A."

That said, he turned back to the patch of dirt, and relieved himself, taking a long, leisurely pee. Finished, he shook his penis a couple of times, arranged himself, and zipped up his pants.

He looked down at the barren earth, still waiting for the sod that would cover it.

"Sweet dreams, Jessica. And what dreams may come, when freed, et cetera."

As Kevin's car passed the gates of the cemetery, he could feel Francesca looking at him. That had been freaking him out lately, as he realized that he didn't have to actually see Francesca to know what she was doing. He'd been a little mystified by the connection between them ever since he'd watched her come down the stairs at the lodge in South Dakota.

"What?" he asked.

"I don't want to do that again. It's not that I mind making love outdoors, but I swear that dirt was so hard and lumpy it left bruises on my ass. You don't want my rear end to be all mottled and ugly looking do you?"

Kevin sighed.

"That was a one-time thing. And next time we do it outside, I'll make sure to get one of those blow-up mattresses. Besides, your ass would never be ugly to me."

He could feel the smile on her face.

********

Kevin had mixed feelings about what he was doing.

Should he take Francesca out to one of the expensive and exclusive restaurants in L.A., or should he prepare dinner at home. The food gods seemed to push him towards cooking at home, when, as he was making his decision, his boxed cooking set was delivered to their condo. They might have been a gift from Jessica, but he liked using them, and was not going to throw them away out of spite.

Actually, his own self-serving opinion was that using the set to cook for Francesca was another way of thumbing his nose at Jessica, post mortem.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Francesca had been over to visit her family. Kevin had met them several times, but begged off on this occasion. That hadn't stopped Francesca's mother (who was still quite attractive, with a magnetic personality like her daughter's) from calling him to complain that he hadn't accompanied her daughter that afternoon.

Kevin had gone all out for dinner.

The menu was determined by what Kevin could find fresh at the market. He was looking for something light and healthy, yet interesting, and something that he would enjoy cooking.

It was the Halibut that inspired him. A Macadamia Nut Crusted Halibut would be the main dish, with Asparagus wrapped in phyllo dough and sprinkled with fresh grated parmesan cheese. A Spinach Strawberry salad made with sugar coated walnuts and a steamed Balsamic reduction with blueberry jam added to taste would provide an interesting flavor. Baked Alaska would be the perfect finale to the dinner. Kevin liked Baked Alaska because he could prepare it first, put it into the freezer, and bring it out at the last minute to flambé. And it wasn't nearly as difficult to make as most people thought.

As he worked on his culinary masterpiece, he mulled over his recent life.

He had never expected Jessica to die; on the other hand he'd never thought that she would have cheated either. He anticipated that when he showed Francesca the emails between Steve and Jessica, that she would break up with Steve. But that was the extent of what he expected.

That she would bewitch him at first sight and before the week was over, that they would be lovers, was completely beyond his wildest fantasies. Now, for a couple of months after first meeting Francesca, they were openly living in sin together, as his parents would say.

"Life is just one, big, cosmic mystery," he thought out loud. "Or maybe one immense and eternal practical joke. Or perhaps some things are just meant to happen."

Late in the afternoon, when Francesca arrived back at the condo, Kevin escorted her to the bedroom, past the kitchen, without letting her see his preparations. He was already dressed, including a long-sleeved shirt and tie -- the sort of thing he would normally wear if they were going out to one of the fancier restaurants.

"Dress for dinner tonight," he requested of Francesca.

"Why?" she asked, "Aren't we eating here? It smells heavenly."

"Humor me," he replied with a smile.

They looked into each other's eyes and an unspoken message passed.

"And stop reading my mind," Kevin complained, in a light hearted way.

She smiled at him, they kissed briefly, and she turned a pirouette, and disappeared into her walk-in closet.

Kevin was waiting for Francesca when she returned to their dining room, now dressed in the proverbial 'little black number' with a matching pair of heels. Of course, she had refreshed her perfume, and as she neared Kevin, she could see his nose twitch. He raised his arm to his forehead.

"I think I'm feeling faint!" he said, trying to make his voice sound weak.

He didn't faint. Instead, he smiled and offered his arm to Francesca, and walked her into the dining room, illuminated by candlelight and sat her at her place.

"Oh, my," she exclaimed, looking at the formal place setting. Her best silver, surrounding a beautiful set of China plates that she didn't recognize. She wasn't going to ask.

"I bought them from Neiman Marcus last week," Kevin said, without even looking at her. "They weren't Jessica's."

She wondered how he could do that, answering questions she hadn't asked out loud.

"Wine?" he asked.

"Certainly, good sir!" she replied, her smile now bringing out the dimples on either side of her mouth.

He poured them each a glass of a nice Pouilly-Fume Sauvignon Blanc, and lifted the covers from their plates.

Without a word, they lifted their glasses and touched them together in an unspoken toast to each other.

Though the entire meal, Kevin and Francesca talked, laughed, ate, but most of all, they looked at each other, both convinced that they had finally found the partner of their destiny. Their eyes spoke for them, communicating passion and desire, humor and comfort, warmth and tenderness.

Kevin had just bussed the dinner plates into the kitchen, when the doorbell rang.

Francesca was at least mildly surprised to find her parents, Reynard and Mercedes, at the door, dressed a little more formally than she would expect for a casual visit. Kisses were exchanged, and Francesca's look of curiosity compelled her mother to explain.

"Kevin asked us to come over for dessert."

"Ah!" Francesca sighed, slightly annoyed that Kevin had kept it from her. She wondered if this might also interfere with her plans for an early evening, followed by a long night in bed...

"So romantic!" Mercedes remarked, with a sly smile, as she was led into the candlelit dining room.

By then, Kevin had re-set the table for four. This time Kevin seated Mercedes, while Reynard assisted Francesca.

Kevin brought in the Baked Alaska's on a tray, and flamed them while Reynard, at Kevin's request, poured Champagne into the fluted crystal glasses. The process of burning off the alcohol from the dishes was dramatic in the low light of the dining room.

There was a general agreement that the dessert was superb, and the ladies were impressed by Kevin's culinary skills. They all knew that this was a prelude, but to what?

"Francesca, I have one final act of revenge to perform, but it will require your assistance."

Francesca looked completely taken aback.

"I thought... well, I thought we were done with that, after visiting your wife's..." she stammered.

"Just this one last thing," Kevin explained with a very serious look on his face, his audience mystified.

"And it could take a lifetime," he firmly stated.

He grinned as he dropped to one knee before her, her parents there to witness his heart-felt request.

"Francesca, I have been yours from the moment that you descended the staircase the first time that I saw you. I know that we've not known each other for a long time, and that it may be unseemly for a man so recently widowed as I to ask, but...

"Will you marry me? Will you be the mother of my children, my partner for the rest of our lives; my other half, my lover, my friend, the light of my life and soul?"

With that, he pulled a small box from his jacket pocket, and opened it to reveal a diamond ring set in white gold.

"Oh, Kevin!" Francesca quietly responded, "Of course I'll marry you. There is nothing in the world that I want more than to be your wife.

"But not as revenge," and she took Kevin's face in her hands and kissed him.

Kevin smiled at her as well, "No, not as revenge; that was a canard. Because I love you."

"Because we love each other. Kevin, I have to confess, that when I saw you from the top of the staircase, and our eyes met that first time, I was so drawn to you. I felt as if we were meant to be together, and everything from that moment until this has been fated."

Kevin asked for, and received Francesca's parent's blessings for the marriage, which they were vocally more than happy to give.

"I never did warm to Steven," Mercedes whispered to Kevin.

The happy couple kissed again, and seeing that they were no longer needed, her parents excused themselves to go home.

Once the door closed behind them and as they walked towards the elevator, Reynard took a sideways glance at his wife.

"Didn't I hear you tell Francesca this afternoon about seeing Kevin leaving the Tiffany store in Beverly Hills yesterday?"

"I suppose so," was his wife's cryptic reply.

"Ah. Well she seemed so surprised tonight," he cynically observed.

"I suppose so."

"And when do you start planning the wedding?" he asked, as he pushed the elevator button that would take them back to the garage level.

"We started a couple of weeks ago."

At that point he turned and stared, goggle-eyed at his wife.

"You and your daughter are both like your mother! A bunch of brujas!" he exclaimed.

"Bah," she responded, "We aren't witches; we just 'see' things. Not the same at all."

"What about Steven, then?"

"I warned her he wasn't the one. He was tall and good looking, but not right."

"And what do you see with Kevin," he demanded.

She smiled.

"Many grandchildren, a long happy marriage and a long happy life."

Since his wife seemed satisfied, as Reynard opened the door of their car for his wife, he was happy too.

Back in the apartment, Kevin and Francesca had stopped kissing in the dining room, and moved their activities to the bedroom.

They were both in the walk-in closet, hanging up their clothes.

"Kevin, reassure me. You aren't marrying me as an act of revenge?"

Kevin laughed.

"Of course not, Francesca. I was just teasing.

"It will be enough revenge for me to know that Steven will spend the rest of his life envying me, and regretting that the direct result of his affair with Jessica was you and I meeting each other and falling in love.

"You were expecting me to ask you to marry you tonight, weren't you?" he asked.

"Mia culpa. I was. My mother told me she saw you buying the ring yesterday at Tiffany's."

Kevin nodded — sometimes L.A. was a surprisingly small place for a huge city.

"Oh, by the way, regarding Steve — I hear he moved out of state, after he lost his job," Francesca said, repeating a tidbit of gossip she'd heard from her father. "You didn't have anything to do with his being fired, did you?"