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It was a much older building than the one I lived in and very nondescript as far as architecture went. It reminded me of the Lego buildings my seven-year-old nephew liked to build - a tall, straight rectangle with rectangular windows evenly spaced, double rectangular doors on the front, and a sign out in the grass identifying the name of the complex that was shaped, of course, like a rectangle. At least, the parking lot was clean, and the grounds were neatly kept.
"This is where I'll be staying?"
I scowled at the confusion in her tone. Who the hell did she think she was? "What? It doesn't live up to your expectations?"
Her eyes widened before turning into dark slits. "No, actually, it doesn't! If you'd taken me to a homeless shelter, it wouldn't have surprised me." She crossed her arms. "This is far nicer than anything I expected. I'm sure you think that someone like me doesn't warrant this second chance, but I didn't seek this out, buddy." She poked her finger at my chest. "For whatever reason, Mr. McCloskey feels differently, and whatever else I am, I'm a hard worker, and I won't let Mr. M regret giving me this chance."
"Humph. I guess we'll see." I opened my door and got out, irritated at how she had a knack for turning me into a bad guy. Relieved she was only my problem for a few more minutes, I opened the back door to my truck and grabbed an envelope that I'd been instructed to bring along, leaving her to climb out on her own. My mother would have been appalled. I guess I was zero for two on my manners today.
She crossed her arms as I came around the truck. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Andrews, especially as I'm certain you had better and more important things to do this morning than spend it with someone like me. Oh, I also appreciate you defending me to Mrs. Regis." Without waiting for a response, she turned and cut across the grass toward the front door. I could have sworn I heard her mumble something about my ass and my elbow, which didn’t make any sense to me, but I couldn’t help but grin. Her sass amused me, and I hadn’t had anything to smile about in a long time.
I started to call after her, but my ‘ass’ that she referenced decided to lean back against my truck instead. Ignoring the light drizzle, I crossed my arms and watched and waited. Despite the baggy, unattractive cheap jeans she was wearing, I could still see the gentle sway of her hips. I had a feeling that if she wore clothes that fit, she'd have a figure worth showing off.
Within minutes, she came back out the front door. I had to bite back laughter as I watched her chest heave before she squared her shoulders and marched with a determined expression in my direction.
"Forget something?" I asked with all the innocence of a choir boy caught in the girls’ bathroom.
She cleared her throat. "It seems that I was a little too eager to explore my new home, and if you would be kind enough to tell me where I need to go or who I need to see, I would be grateful."
I was about to make a sarcastic comment about not being kind at all, but I noted the dark circles beneath her eyes and put aside any further desire to needle her. Besides, a small part of me grudgingly admired her ability to find a way to maintain her dignity while not quite swallowing her pride. "Very diplomatic, Ms. Stone. You'd make a good lawyer."
I gestured for her to lead the way back into the building. I nodded toward the elevator which immediately opened when she pressed the 'up' button. Hitting the button for the fourth floor, I pulled the key ring with two silver keys out of my pocket. We stepped into a plain white hallway with brown carpet, the only splash of color coming from a couple of wreaths on her neighbors' doors.
"You'll be in 403. Looks like it's this way." I turned left and sure enough, quickly found myself in front of a gray steel door with tarnished gold-colored numbers that matched the key ring. Figuring it was only fair for her to be the first to open the door to her new home I held the keys in the palm of my hand. She stared at them for several seconds before reaching for them and unlocking the door with a shaky hand.
3
Maddy
The door swung open with a slight creak, and I looked into my new home for the first time. A few white tiles led to a carpeted living room, already furnished with a blue plaid couch and a solid blue wing-back chair. A maple-colored table held a television across from the couch. A couple of end tables with lamps completed the room.
Feeling a little self-conscious in front of the solemn man I'd left standing at the door, I wandered into the small kitchen that was a tiled extension of the living room. I gingerly ran my fingertips across the laminate countertops colored in various shades of browns and tans to look like granite. I almost couldn't wait to try to cook once again in this kitchen, which was newer than any kitchen I'd been in.
My grandmother's kitchen was the place where I'd learned to mix away my troubles. Hers had been bigger, but the wood counters were scratched and chipped, the stove had a burner that only heated the center coils, and the dial on her ancient oven had to be set about twenty-five degrees higher than recipes called for. But that hadn't held her back from making the most amazing dishes I'd ever sampled. And as her mother had taught her as a little girl, she passed her knowledge down to me. She taught me about measuring cups and spoons, but we rarely used them. Pshaw, she'd say, a good eye and the palm of your hand are all you need. I wasn't that good, and she'd laugh and call me a cheater when I pulled out the small, slightly dented metal nesting spoons or cups. Giggling, I'd hug her and remind her that she was one of a kind, and I'd never 'measure up' to her.
God, how I missed her - the one person who loved me unconditionally. I blinked back the tears that her memory invoked and hurried down a short hallway toward the one bedroom, feeling those dark eyes following me.
Inside the room, which was slightly larger than I expected, was a full-size bed outfitted simply with a plum-colored comforter with an ivory band embroidered in flowers across the center. It looked so soft I couldn't stop myself from sinking onto it. I closed my eyes as I ran my hand across the bedding that was so much better than the two-inch thick, narrow mattress I was accustomed to. I was sure it was as close as I'd ever be to curling up on a cloud. I grinned and fell backward on the bed with my arms flung wide, not missing the steel rails and cinderblock walls that I usually encountered if I stretched too far.
"I take it meets with your approval?"
I looked up to see Mr. Andrews leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved in his pockets and his ankles crossed. I couldn't tell from the glint in his eyes if he was amused or being sarcastic, but I suddenly felt such a sense of jubilation, not even Mr. Tall, Dark, and Moody was going to ruin this day for me. I moved my arms up and down as if making a snow angel. "It's wonderful! Like a slice of heaven on Earth!"
"Well, if you're done flopping around like a fish, I need to return to my office," he scowled.
I sat up but didn't move off the bed. I cocked my head in curiosity. "Are you always so grumpy or do I just bring out the worst in you?"
He frowned. "Maybe a bit of both." He turned and walked back toward the living room. "I have something for you from McCloskey," he called.
I scurried off the bed and followed him. A large, brown envelope was pushed in my hands. "If you don't need anything else, I'll leave you to settle in."
A little flurry of nerves shot through my stomach. When was the last time I'd had time to myself? Suddenly, even his company felt better than being alone. I swallowed hard and stuck out my hand. "Thank you for meeting me and, well, for everything."
He looked at me through thoughtful eyes that softened as if he could read my mind. "You'll be fine. Good luck to you, Ms. Stone." He squeezed my hand, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
I leaned my back against the door and closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions of being on my own for the first time in...well, ever. I'd been left alone a lot during my life, but I'd never lived on my own. Having lived the last fourth of my life constantly dictated to, I wasn't sure what to do next. I didn't have anyone to report to, I wasn't restricted from going anywhere, and I didn't have to worry about who might be lurking around the next corner. Yet, I still felt frozen with indecision. Was it possible to feel imprisoned by too much freedom?
Curious about the envelope Mr. Andrews had given me, I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out several papers stapled together. They looked like the lease for the apartment. The law firm had generously supplied the first month's rent, but I would be responsible after that. A handwritten note
