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Luna drove to the local animal shelter to surrender the cat. It meowed helplessly while pawing at her clothes and arms. Even though it might complicate things, she couldn’t help but leave her number in case the animal was never claimed.
By the time Luna turned the key in her car’s ignition, she was alarmed to discover the time. She’d taken too long. There was no time to go home and change. Luna had to drive straight to the duplex. Her eyes dropped to the party-girl olive-green slip dress she wore, and she patted it to remove cat hair and grime.
With a nervous energy, she sped to the duplex near Old Town. The 1940s-era split-building was tucked into a hill covered in some kind of vine, looking as picturesque as she had imagined. She loved it and crossed her fingers the landlady would be taken with her, too. From her car, she snapped an image of the place with her phone, uploading it to Instagram with #futurehome #foothillsliving #greendoor before checking her reflection in the visor mirror and reapplying lip gloss. On her walk to the door, she ran a hand across the fabric of her dress while helplessly tugging the neckline up and the hemline down.
When a woman opened the door, Luna’s heart jumped in her throat. At first glance she had the mistaken impression it was her mother, who had abandoned four-year-old Luna to be raised by her grandfather when she moved to the other side of the country to start a new life without her. There was a period of time, mostly when she was young, that Luna would have given anything to see her mom. She now felt the opposite and didn’t want to have anything to do with Amy. Why should she waste time and energy on someone who obviously didn’t care about her?
While the woman at the door shared the same coloring and had similar features, it wasn’t her mother. Of course not. Now it was obvious. But the woman grew impatient waiting for her to say something. “Yes?”
“Oh! Uh…hi. I’m Luna Lanza. I-I have an appointment to view the rental.” She tried evoking as much of Mia’s charm as she could while reaching out her hand with a smile.
The woman shook it with a light touch while doing a slow scan of Luna’s outfit, making her even more flustered. “Oh. You’re Luna? Fine. I’m Michelle.”
In the entryway, glossy wood flooring and white walls greeted her. The living room wasn’t big but it had plenty of natural light, built-in bookcases and a beautiful brick fireplace. If Luna was going to live in Placerville, she wouldn’t mind doing it in this style. She was already making a mental map for where to put the new, elegant furniture she would later purchase. “The floors are lovely.”
“They’re original to the house,” Michelle said. “We spent a lot of money having them restored. You might want to be careful if you’re wearing heels.”
She flushed. “Oh, should I remove my shoes?”
The woman breezed through the living room into the kitchen, ignoring her. “We need someone who’s going to treat this home with respect. It’s been in my family for a long time. Do you know how to properly clean hardwood floors?”
Luna rushed to remove her heels and catch up with the woman, almost tripping over her own feet and bashing a toe into the wall. “Ow. Um, I mean, I’ve never lived in a place with real hardwood flooring, but I’m sure—”
“We put in all new appliances and expect them to stay in pristine condition and to be cleaned regularly.”
“Okay—”
“All the cabinetry is original and very old. Please don’t slam the doors or be too rough with the hinges.”
Luna carefully shut the cabinet she had been inspecting. “No, I wouldn’t.”
She was taken through the rest of the home, as the landlady listed one “don’t” after another while also making it a point to inform her she wasn’t allowed to bring anyone else to live with her “like men or filthy pets”. Was Michelle this way with all tenants or was this attitude only geared toward Luna? Her confidence at getting the place was dropping with every passing moment.
Once they had made their way to the front door again, Michelle gave her appearance another thorough inspection. “This is a very old house. Maybe you’re looking for something easier, more modern.”
“I actually really love old places. They have character.” She slipped her shoes back onto her feet.
Michelle opened the door, ushering her to the concrete stoop. “My brother and I just want to make sure we’re getting someone who will take care of the home like their own. This is not really a party house, nor do we want it to be.”
“I-I’m not really a party girl anymore,” she replied, attempting to make a convincing argument for herself.
“You have a blessed day now.” And Michelle shut the door in her face, leaving her stunned and dejected.
She trudged to her car, holding her emotions at bay. How could something she dreamed about be gone in less than ten minutes? She wasn’t given a fair chance. Her eyes dropped to her dress and she noticed a dirt smudge in the fabric from when she had clutched the stray cat to her chest earlier.
Dammit.
She raised her chin, pushing everything down, as far as it would go, to the tips of her toes where she wouldn’t have to feel anything if she didn’t want to.
Someone who looked like her mother would not beat her today.
Besides, she couldn’t cry. She had another apartment appointment to go to.
Chapter Three
Sam Sunderland rana frustrated hand across his hair, before turning his hat backwards and hunching behind the old, coin-operated dryer, searching for answers as to why it wasn’t working. He’d finished replacing the drive belt and yet the drum stubbornly refused to spin.
“Have you tried unplugging it and plugging it back in? Maybe you forgot the second part.” This was asked by the precocious eight-year-old named Zabe, who enjoyed following him around as he did repairs around Schnell Ridge Apartments.
