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“Good night.”
“Let me walk you to the door.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I know, but I’d like to. Humor me, would you?”
She breathes in, breathes out. “Come on.”
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Frank. We walk away, and he gets in the car. The locks snap into place. Well played, Frank.
There’s a door at the side of the building that Amber unlocks. “I can take it from here.”
“Let me walk you all the way. Please.”
A brief spurt of air escapes from her pursed lips. “I suppose.”
She leads me into a cramped entryway, where we’re greeted by another door—which I’m guessing leads directly into the pizza place—and a set of stairs that will take us to the apartment. We trudge up the creaky steps. Not a bad alarm system.
A narrow hallway is at the top with a door on either side. Amber moves to the one on the right. “Here we are.”
The door opposite hers swings open.
“Hello, Mrs. Haggar.”
Mrs. Haggar is seventy. She’s wearing curlers, a night coat, and some sort of gunk on her face. In her grasp is a teacup Yorkshire Terrier who isn’t afraid to bark. “This your date?”
Amber juts her chin at me. “This is Noah.”
“Mrs. Haggar.” I hold out my hand.
The Yorkie goes off like someone hit a switch, and Mrs. Haggar shields him with her body. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”
“I wasn’t going to touch him.”
She’s had enough of me. “He won’t be staying long, will he?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good, because it’s getting late.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good night, dear.”
“Night.”
Mrs. Haggar gives me one last look before she returns to her apartment.
“She’s a pleasant woman,” I comment.
“She’s nice, really,” Amber says. “And she means well.”
Amber unlocks her door, and we stand there.Wonder if she’s going to invite me in?
“Thank you for the lovely evening,” she says.
I brush my hand along her cheek. “You’re welcome.”
