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Darren chewed his lip. “It’s cute...” he trailed off, glancing around the living room and out toward the balcony.
“But,” Wayne continued for him, “we have some concerns about the size. We were really hoping for a two bedroom place.”
Cindy twisted her face. “I’m sorry Mr. Albright but the best properties in your price range are one bedrooms.” She tapped a long nailed finger against her lower lip. “If you’d like, though, I could show you a few places just a tad more pricey. There’s a lovely one on the Upper West Side that’s perfect. Just over a thousand square feet, communal terrace, gorgeous views, a fireplace. It’s only a scootch out of your range.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, less than an inch apart, indicating her definition of a ‘scootch’.
“It sounds wonderful,” Darren said, hopefully.
Sophie and Wayne shared a glance. They both recognized that tone of voice. Darren had already begun to make up his mind.
A half hour later Cindy was pulling through massive wrought-iron gates that opened as her car approached.
“It’s got off street parking!” Cindy exclaimed, pulling into a reserved spot.
“I think this might be more than a ‘scootch’ out of our range,” Darren muttered to Sophie as they got out of the car. Looking around at the other cars in the lot—Mercedes, Porsches, Bentleys—she was forced to agree. But she held up her thumb and forefinger, much the same way Cindy had.
“Come on, give it a shot. Can’t hurt to look, right?”
Cindy was halfway to the complex, her heels clicking loudly on the concrete, as she prattled to Wayne about security, double paned glass, and rooftop gardens. Sophie tugged Darren along, both of them hurrying to keep up with the bubbly realtor. When they stepped into the building’s lobby, Darren gave a low whistle. It was clear from the stone tiled floors, muted sage walls, and tasteful decor that this building was vastly different from their previous viewings.
There was a uniformed security guard, breast patch emblazoned with the words Figleaf Terrace in green, sitting at the front desk. Cindy waved to him.
“Hey Clive! Just taking some clients up to twenty-six for a tick.”
The guard nodded, touching the brim of his hat with one finger.
Cindy ushered them into the elevator and hit the button for the 26th floor. “There’s security around the clock. The neighborhood has the second lowest crime rate in the city anyway, but still. And great schools. Sacred Heart and Brightman Montessori are both within walking distance.”
Wayne was listening to Cindy’s laundry list with brow furrowing intensity. Sophie nudged Darren in the side. “Good schools, Papa.”
Darren rolled his eyes.
The elevator rose quickly and silently, doors sliding open with a soft, musical chime as they reached their floor.
Cindy led the way to apartment 2647, pushing the door all the way open with another sweeping gesture. “As you can see it has brand new carpeting throughout. All the latest appliances, of course. Plus, well, take a look for yourself.”
The apartment didn’t need a hard sell. Darren gave a soft gasp of delight as he stepped into the entryway and took in the living room with its big windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. The walls were bare and painted in soft shades of beige, but even Sophie began imagining what they could look like with artwork and family photos.
To their left was a large open kitchen with golden brown Tuscan tile flooring. Between the living room and the kitchen was a small dining area done in blonde oak. From the apartment door, Sophie could see all the way out onto the wide terrace.
She noticed two bedrooms, a master suite with its own bathroom and a smaller one down the hall, just what Darren and Wayne had been looking for.
“There’s a washer and dryer,” Cindy pointed out, indicating a cupboard near the kitchen. “And roof access!”
“You could put your plants out here, babe. Your herbs and stuff?” Darren had thrown open the terrace doors and was indicating the long length of ledge.
Wayne sat carefully on the plush sofa in the living room, leaning back and gazing around. “We could hang the TV there,” he said, indicating the wall leading to the master bedroom. “And the Kandinsky print near the kitchen.”
“We’d have to get a dining table. This carpet is too nice to eat in here.” Darren rubbed his toe through the plush fabric.
“If we get the apartment,” Wayne corrected him.
“Baby,” Darren began, but Wayne held up his hand, turning to face Cindy.
“How much is it a month?” he asked, straight off.
Cindy tugged at a lock of her dark hair. “Well...” she hedged. “Like I said, it’s a scootch more than you were looking for.”
“What is it?” he repeated.
