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”I should get going. Before I get in trouble with Frau Falther.”
Recognition crosses his face, tightening his square power-man features.
”Frau Falther’s your boss?” the stranger says with a surprised smile. ”You have my sympathy. She’s such a damn pest, isn’t she?”
Stunned, I only nod. ”You two know each other?”
”Sadly yes. It’s a small world.” He shakes his head, before a knot forms between his sandy brows. ”Can I do anything else for you? I’m worried about the ankle, maybe I should call you an Uber?”
”That won’t be necessary,” I say, sad that our conversation is over. ”It was nice meeting you.”
His pupils dilate or maybe it’s just a trick of the light. I can’t be sure. Fidgeting, I ignore the feeling of something crawling on my skin. I’ve never felt it before, other than the time when I really, really wanted a sleigh for my birthday. And it dawns on me that I do know this feeling.Longing.But I’ve never experienced it around a man before.
”You too. And tell Frau Falther I said hi.”
He turns to leave but I stop him.
”Wait, I don’t know your name.”
”Van Hovenkamp,” he replies and I watch him walk away, his pale blue coat fluttering after him.
I want him to throw a look over his shoulder, like they do in the movies. Just once, so that I can see his eyes once more.
He doesn’t turn around because this isn’t a movie and I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t ask to know my name. But why would he? I’m not on his level. A man like him would never show any real interest in a girl like me. Unless, it’s for some shallow fun.The man eventually disappears and I miss him a little bit and that slow intensity of his.
For a moment, the world seemed a little more kinder and gentler. And when you’re having a bad day that’s sometimes all you can ask for.
****
”Frau Falther, I’m back,” I call, crossing the threshold of her Tribeca apartment. My voice echoes, bouncing off the marble walls. But there’s no reason for me to yell.
Frau Falther is already standing in the foyer, still dressed in her bedazzled kimono even if it’s four in the afternoon. Her head is covered under a white turban, making her look like a hard-boiled egg but she refuses to hire a stylist.
She claims she has excellent taste.
I’m clearly not a stylist, but if I were one I’d keep the look but change the kimono to one without sequins. And a darker turban would brighten up her sallow complexion.
”Where have you been?” she barks, clapping the toe of her slipper against the shiny floorboards that she sometimes makes me mop, even if it’s not in my job description. ”I’ve been waiting forever…”
She trails off, and her surgically enhanced jawline drops. ”Is that my laundry?” she cries and I nod, horrified. ”You stupid girl, what did you do with it? It’s all filthy now!”
”I’m sorry,” I breathe. ”It was an accident.”
”An accident?” she shrieks. ”An accident, my rump! You’ve ruined everything.” She yanks the laundry from me, then falls to the floor and starts sobbing. ”My Coco, my Giorgio, my beautiful haute-couture!”
Tear-stricken, she glares up at me with animosity. ”You’re fired. Pack your things and leave.”
I gulp. ”What about my references…?” I whisper but she erupts into a long monologue about why I don’t deserve any. Black spots dance before my eyes but there’s not much I can do about this.
It seems I’ll have to accept my fate.
”Before I forget..,” I say in a low voice, turning to get my stuff, ”a man named Van Hovenkamp told me to say hi.”
”Stop right there!” Frau Falther orders with a gasp and I freeze. ”You mettheHendryk Van Hovenkamp?”
Hendryk. That’s his name and the information makes a little thrill go off in me. I feel as if I’ve won something even though my hands are empty.
”Unless there’s more Van Hovenkamp’s in town,” I say and Frau Falther quickly rises, her tantrum blown off as if it didn’t just happen.
