Buckets of paint brushes lined one of the window sills. Canvases stacked like giant decks of cards leaned against the walls. His life’s work was here.
“How did you ever find this place?”
He looked at his watch. “Long story, and you’ve got less than an hour now.”
“Fine. I’m holding you to telling me. Tomorrow night. Okay?”
“Sure.” He started toward the left side of the apartment. “Come on. The kitchen is down here. What can I get you to drink?”
“Just water.”
She followed him through the space, stopping to look at the artwork and the interesting antique furniture pieces that held some of it.
He wondered what she thought of the kitchen. It was simple, all stainless steel and wood. A huge pot rack hung over the island.
She stared at the pot rack. “Okay, you have more pots hanging than I own in total. Look at all the crocks of spoons and spatulas. You really do cook.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“This is nice.” She ran her hands across the cobalt blue enamel of the gas range. “Is this an antique?”
“No. It’s just meant to look like one.”
The subzero, glass front refrigerator was orderly. Sodas, waters, a couple of beers, and rows of salads in canning jars that looked pretty enough to be in a restaurant display, ready for takeout. Bright red tomatoes and green cucumbers on the next shelf, and then some boxed items below that.
“Okay, I feel chintzy bringing you a turkey sandwich with all that fresh food in your refrigerator.”
“Don’t be silly. I love turkey.” He took two glasses from a cabinet and filled them with ice and water. “We can eat in the other room.”
A square table with four comfortable armchairs around it was void of anything, not even a centerpiece or speck of dust.
Matthew set down the glasses, then got napkins, salt and pepper, and silverware and set them on the table.
Whitney unpacked the bag and handed him a sandwich.
“This was a nice surprise,” he said. “Looks good.”
“It’s my favorite lunch. Turkey, avocado, cucumber, tomato, and onion. I hope you don’t mind the onion.”
“As long as we’re both having them, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I suppose not.” She blushed as she lowered her chin to pick up her sandwich. But he hadn’t missed it—it was cute. “How long have you lived here?”
He looked around. “Off and on a long, long time. My dad and I lived here when I was a kid. After Mom left. It was an apartment building back then. He did a lot of the rehab on these old buildings. He loved the view from this one the best.”
“I can see why.” She took a bite of her sandwich.
“Dad bought the front apartment up there overlooking the James when I was a teenager. Back then, there was a department store on the first level. That’s why there are the loading docks and garages.”
“This is that old building? They call it the Harper Building, right?”
“Yep. Used to.”
“Yes. I’m a local too.” She shook her head in amazement. “How have we never met before?”
“No idea. It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“I guess everything has its time.”
