Page 5 of Touch of Class

One full-sized pillowtop mattress of the highest quality according to all her research. She’d chosen the brand and size to fit perfectly across the pallet platform she’d been eager to build as the centerpiece of her new office. Only, she was supposed to have the rest of the space fully set up before it arrived, which the website said would happen on Friday, not Wednesday.

How’d the delivery team even get it inside the building?

She stood, stumped for a few seconds, wondering if the landlord had let them in, and if so, why hadn’t he let them all the way into her office instead of blocking the door it needed to go through? At least it was shrink-wrapped in plastic to keep it from getting dirty.

She glanced around quickly without expecting to find a solution or even another human at this hour. Then she gave it a little push to confirm it wouldn’t glide smoothly to where she wanted it to go, because what mattress in the history of the world had ever moved smoothly? Still, as she pulled it back from the wall, trying to find the right balance between creating space and tipping it over completely, she managed to glimpse the door she’d recently imagined opening. With a bit of wiggling, she slid herself along the wall without the mattress flopping too much.

Opening the door, she let the behemoth behind her rest like a stone that would need to be rolled away later, flipped on the lights, and relished the warm rush of anticipation.

Her breath caught, not at the sight before her, but at the images playing across her mind’s eye. She visualized everything so clearly, and her chest expanded in affection for things she’d yet to create. Turning in a slow circle, she pictured lush indigo drapes along the entire wall shared with the hallway, both to add depth of color and to deaden outside sounds. In the corner, she would top an old end table she’d inherited from her grandmother with a lamp that emitted a soft, warm glow. Beside it, she’d arrange a squishy futon full of throw pillows of varying degrees of firmness. She’d build a little wall desk along the back so it could fold down when clients arrived, then pop up again when she had the space to herself. From the ceiling she’d loosely billow turquoise sheers to cover the plain, gray acoustic tile. It would be the most glorious little cocoon, and at its center would stand the focal point of everything, the full-sized bed, like a recumbent throne, lavish and cozy in crisp white sheets and an extravagantly fluffy down comforter.

Daphne had to stop herself from swooning into her own vision, instead settling for clothing herself in imagination and goodwill. She wrapped her arms across her chest and hugged her own body like the warm blankets she intended to drape all over the room. Rubbing her hands over her biceps through the thin, long-sleeve T-shirt, her muscles rippled with excitement as the warm, fuzzy feelings she’d cultivated buzzed into a more purposeful spark. Energy rose in her, and with a nod she said, “Let’s do this.”

Returning to her present reality, she turned deliberately toward the door and cringed to find the mattress still blocking the room’s only exit. Surely she could bend such a soft obstacle to her will, or at least far enough to get it through the door.

Daphne managed to wiggle out again without it tipping over, then, leaning her shoulder into the back end, pushed until it slid across the wall far enough for the end to line up with the opening to her office. With a little more effort, she scooted the other end across the hall until it bumped the door of the waiting room. Another heave helped her to get the first corner inside her doorframe, but the angle wouldn’t let it move in a single, fluid line. Both the door and the hallway were too narrow, and since the walls weren’t likely to give, she’d have to bend the mattress.

“Thank goodness mattresses are flexible, and so am I.” Daphne gave the pillowtop a little pat through the plastic and herself a tiny pep talk. “We’ve got this.”

With no more room to push from behind, she wedged herself back into her new office and tried to pull, but she couldn’t get much of a handhold through the slick casing. She managed to drag it only a few inches before stumbling back and tipping the whole thing slightly sideways.

“Shit,” she muttered, and took a deep breath before trying again. This time she did manage to cajole the entire contraption a few inches, but the minute she lost her grip again, the mattress sagged heavily across the doorway, nearly blocking her view of the hallway completely.

In a fit of frustration, Daphne gave another heavy yank without any measurable progress and almost knocked herself to the floor in the process.

At this rate, she might have it inside in the next few hours, but only if the exertion and annoyance didn’t give her a heart attack first. Neither the timeline nor the prospect of physical harm appealed to her, so instead she took a step back and a deep breath. “There has to be a better way.”

Closing her eyes, she worked to calm her brain and bring her pulse down a few notches. An answer would come, or she’d manifest an unorthodox solution if need be. She’d been doing as much her whole life, and neither her own imagination nor the universe at large had failed her yet.

Eyes still closed, she did her best to picture the mattress gliding freely through the door and falling gracefully into its place as if it somehow intuited its sense of greater purpose.

The corners of her lips turned up at the hyperbole, but if one were going to dream, one might as well go big. Why not imbue inanimate objects with the meaning of life?

“Yes,” she whispered, both to herself and the bed, “let’s show each other the missing piece to get us both where we need to be.”

She sent the wish into the ether on a slow, deliberate exhale, and no sooner had she drawn her next breath than the sound of the outer office door unlatching greeted her ears.

Opening her eyes, she glanced heavenward and whispered, “Thank you,” to whatever elemental force had answered her energy in this moment.

Gillian’s eyes were on her phone, already checking email as she mindlessly unlocked the outer door to her office. One cancellation, a meeting reminder, something from Brooke about a new client intake appointment. She flagged that one with her thumb, then pushed the door open with her shoulder, and kept scanning right up until the moment when she walked into a mattress.

“What the …?” she whispered into the silence of her early-morning routine. Taking a step back, she cocked her head to the side as if taking things in from a slightly different angle might help the presence of bedding make sense in this context.

Alas, no such clarity came.

Surely, there must’ve been a mistake, but who would leave something like this wedged between her waiting room and the … open door across the hall?

Shit. The new tenant must’ve arrived. So much for not being an issue.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called from the other side of the wall.

Gillian rolled her eyes. “Hello.”

“So, um, I may’ve bitten off more than I can chew in here.”

“Seems so,” Gillian called. “I think you may’ve also found the wrong floor. This one is zoned for business. Only the third and fourth floors are residential.”

Silence greeted her for a few awkward seconds before the voice, or the woman behind it, laughed. “Oh, the bed, no. I’m not moving in. I mean, I am, but it’s for work. My office needs a bed, so it’s in the right place, or near the right place, but I can’t get it fully inside.”