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Or had he?
There was one person who knew Melanie. Who might be able to give him the information he needed.
The one person he had never wanted to see again.
Genevieve.
* * *
“Hey, Mr. Watson, looking good today.”
The old man smiled as he tipped his top hat in greeting. “Looking beautiful yourself, young lady, as always.”
Genevieve returned a sweet smile, enjoying the compliments they always doled out to each other. He lived on the first floor of her building. He lived alone, although he had five children spread throughout the country with so many grandchildren it was hard to keep up with all the names. He enjoyed going out for supper at the local diner on the corner every Thursday dressed in his best clothes, which, of course, always included his signature top hat.
“Trying the roast beef tonight, or sticking with the pork chops?” she asked as she twisted the key in her mailbox slot and opened it.
“The ribs are calling my name tonight.” He winked. “I can bring you some.”
Too fatty for her. No, thanks. Of course, Mr. Watson knew that. She wasn’t a huge meat eater in general, not that she was a vegetarian or anything. She simply preferred less meat in her diet.
“Oh, no, you enjoy every morsel. Have a lovely evening. Tell Mrs. Darlington I said hello.” Then she winked and headed up the stairs with her mail in one hand.
The older woman who always had supper every Thursday like him was a looker, at least, Mr. Watson had told her one time. Both widowed, they enjoyed pretending like they weren’t meeting up every Thursday for a date, rather two friends bumping into each other. One of these days, she hoped they’d make it official and call it what it was. Dating.
On the second floor, she paused to let Darcy and her two rambunctious boys pass.
“Have fun at karate,” she said to Dwayne and Douglas, both ready to go in their gear.
“Prepping for their purple belt.” Darcy winced and crossed her fingers as if they needed a lot more practice and prayers to get there.
“Exciting. Enjoy.”
“Have a great evening yourself, Genevieve.”
She jaunted up the next set of stairs, hitting the third floor, eyeing Mrs. Reverson trying to open her door with a large potted plant in her hands.
“Let me hold that for you.” She shoved her mail into her purse and took the pot from her.
Mrs. Reverson blew out a thankful breath, laughing. “I should’ve set the darn thing down, but I didn’t want to. Thank you, dear.”
She was always buying plants. Genevieve had been in her apartment once, surprised at the number of plants laid out everywhere. The floors, the tables, the windowsills, even on the back of the toilet seat. Mrs. Reverson couldn’t help herself when she saw something she liked. There was a flower shop on the same block as their apartment building, so she tended to see a lot. No doubt the store knew her obsession and put the new inventory in the best display at the right time, knowing Mrs. Reverson wouldn’t be able to pass without buying. Genevieve had a few plants herself, gifts Mrs. Reverson couldn’t help but give away.
Mrs. Reverson opened her door, set her purse and keys on the small table near it, and turned toward her. “You’re such a dear. What big plans do you have tonight besides helping an old woman like me?”
Genevieve smiled, chuckling, though she died a little inside at the question. No plans tonight. Or rarely any night. Sure, she hung around with her brothers, sometimes her co-workers, but that didn’t happen often. Besides Melanie—who was now gone—she didn’t have a lot of friends. Partying and going out to clubs wasn’t her thing. Never had been, never would be. Staying in, curled up with a good book or a sweet movie, was more her speed.
“Me and Julio have plans. You know how it is. Fun night ahead.”
Mrs. Reverson laughed. “Well, you have fun, dear. Don’t get too crazy.”
She put a shocked hand over her chest. “Me? Never.”
She handed off the plant and climbed the last set of stairs to her floor. Four floors wasn’t too bad. When she was feeling lazy, she took the elevator, but most times she walked it.
When she hit the landing, she stumbled backward, shocked to see the last person she expected to be standing near her door.
Corey reached out, grabbing her arm before she would’ve taken a tumble down the stairs. Oh, boy, it would’ve hurt. Cracked a few bones.
