by Fiona Grace
If she were in Piazza Tre right now, she’d have her pillows propped up against the wall and would be watching something on Netflix on her laptop computer, gradually slipping toward dreamland with a nice cup of tea. Trying to capture that sense of home, she opened her laptop and turned on some old medical drama. She didn’t have any tea, but she had a bottle of water.
She kept shifting in the pleather seats, trying to get comfortable as she watched. She wasn’t big, but her body hung off of them. Finally, after sliding off one and spilling her drink on her T-shirt, she gave up, pillowed some freshly washed dog bedding from the supply closet, and laid it out on the cold tile, among the chairs.
A little better, she thought as she settled in, Nick curled beside her, and started to get interested in the television show.
Just as the medical drama started to heat up, a long, lone howl sounded from the back of the clinic. Nick jumped up, ears perked.
Romeo, the Golden Retriever mix. He was a surrender from a family who’d moved, and he’d been spoiled a lot, so he was a bit of a drama queen. Planning to ignore it, she raised the volume on her computer. As she started to doze off, the sound came again.
And then it was joined by another high-pitched yelp. Sounded like Pip, the Pomeranian. And then, even poor Bruno started to join in.
As she pressed the volume button to raise it again, the back room erupted in the loudest, most grating cacophony of sounds she’d ever heard. She might as well have run in there and announced feeding time.
Suddenly, a howl much closer by erupted behind her.
She groaned, rolled over, and looked at Nick, wagging a warning finger at him. “Now don’t you start.”
Jumping to her feet, she went to the back room to check on the animals. They all seemed fine. “Okay. Quiet now,” she said, giving them all a few extra pets. She gave Romeo an especially long one, since he seemed the most agitated.
But the second she turned out the light, they started again. Louder, this time, so loud it drowned out the television show, even on top volume.
Romeo, Romeo, we know wherefore thou art. In fact, all of Sicily knows, now.
She turned off the laptop and burrowed under the covers, hoping she was so tired she’d fall asleep, no matter what.
But Audrey was wrong. As she lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and listening to the howls of the animals, feeling the hardness of the floor against her back, she made a firm resolution.
She had to fix that floor in her house. Sooner, rather than later. Before she went insane.
*
Audrey woke before daybreak, but as she sat up, she wasn’t really sure she’d slept much at all.
The clock in the reception area was a loud one, so loud she could hear its ticking above the animals’ whimpers and howls, and she’d started counting ticks of it. She remembered the moment when the animals finally quieted down, because she’d gotten to about ten thousand by the time it happened. By then, a finnicky streetlight outside, slashing through the blinds, had stopped flickering and turned off for good. Then, she’d counted about nine thousand more ticks, all the while staring up at the ceiling and watching the headlights from an occasional passing car making shapes on it.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep then, but she wasn’t sure. As she sat up and stretched, she felt like the dead. But she knew she wasn’t dead, because the pain was too intense. Her body was sore from head to toe.
“Ughhhh,” she moaned as she tried to pull herself up, struggling and grasping onto chairs to help her. She felt twice her age as she limped to the break room to make herself a cup of coffee. As she did, a thought came to her, pretty clearly, above all the others:
I can NOT do that again. I will die, pure and simple.
Once she started a pot brewing, she went into the bathroom. There was no shower, so she had to do her best, washing up at the basin. She did a little bit of a cat wash, wetting paper towels and using them to get as clean as possible before slipping into the new clothes she’d brought. She found a small bottle of mouthwash in the medicine cabinet and used that to get rid of her morning breath. Then she stared at the horror that was her hair.
“It’s totally not fair to have bedhead without the bed!” she muttered to herself as she tried to tame her locks with the brush she’d brought. Instead, she had to settle for a low ponytail. It didn’t help much. She had dark circles under her eyes and not only felt like the dead, she looked like it, too.
“Okay! Time to start the day!” she said cheerfully, grabbing her coffee and taking a sip. As she went to the kennel to check out the animals, her phone started to buzz in her pocket. It was Brina.
“What time is it where you are? Did I wake you?” she asked when Audrey answered.
“It’s six. And no, you didn—”
“Morning or night?”
“Morning.”
“I don’t really care,” she interrupted. “Seeing as you call me in the middle of the night constantly.”
“True. But you’re usually up, feeding Byron, right?”
“I’ll have you know that Byron started sleeping through the night two weeks ago.”
“Really?” Audrey didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad about that. As much as she’d rushed to get out of America, there were so many things she missed. Her nieces and nephews, among them. They were growing so fast. Brina posted pictures on her Instagram account, but Audrey rarely had time to look at those. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know you needed a play-by-play. And you’ve been so busy. But that’s okay. How are things going? I’ve been waiting for you to call. Your last message was like, one word. So tell me, what happened?”
She sighed. What had happened with G was the smallest of her disasters right now. She decided to play like it didn’t matter, only because with everything else going on, it almost didn’t. “Oh, it’s no big deal. It wasn’t a date. He had a bunch of people over there, tasting, too. So whatever.”
“You’re disappointed.”
Audrey looked up at the ceiling. And here, she thought she’d done a good job at playing nonchalant about it. But it must’ve been an Older Sister Sixth Sense, because Brina could somehow always sense her emotions, even an ocean away. “No, I’m really not. It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I can tell from your voice.”
“Really, it is. He’s probably not the person for me, anyway. He’s so confident and outgoing and we live totally different lives. Besides, I have bigger fish to fry at this moment.”
“I hope those fish involve one sexy Southerner with abs you can bounce quarters off of?”
“No,” she muttered. “You know that’s not going to happen, Mason being Mason, and well … perfect. And in fact, I’ll have you know, my fish aren’t men at all. But I’m taking care of it. I just got a little notice that my place isn’t fit for occupancy, and so I had to get out last night. I slept in the clinic.”
“You what?” Brina paused. “Oh, my god, Audrey. Are you serious? Why? What’s wrong with your house? Is it like, infested with cockroaches?”
“No. No, of course not.”
“What, is the roof about to cave in?”
Audrey bristled. “Yeah, I mean, that’s pretty close, actually. The floor, if you want to be specific about it.”
“And you were sleeping there, in a condemned property?” Mom-Brina suddenly kicked in, and now Audrey felt like one of her kids. Audrey and Brina’s mom had always been pretty hands-off, busy with her career. As a mom, Brina had gone the opposite way, turning into the casserole-baking, always-there helicopter type.
“Oh, stop. Really, it isn’t that bad. But out of an abundance of caution …”
“ … You’re sleeping on the street. That’s cautious.”
“No. I had the clinic.”
“Okay. So you’re sleeping with the dogs. Much better.”
“Ha-ha.” She rubbed her sore hip, which ached numbly. “It’s not a big deal. I’m going to get it f
ixed, and everything will be fine. I’m lucky I have this place, or I would be out on the street.”
“Stop. Just let me wire you some money and go stay in a hotel.”
“I don’t need—”
“Oh, stop playing the martyr.”
“No. You’ve already sent me enough money, and I’m going to pay you back for that. I don’t need any more. I’m fine.”
Brina said something about how she wished Audrey would stop being so stubborn, but just then, someone knocked on the door, and Audrey didn’t catch all of it. She checked the time on the clock. It was indeed six in the morning, three hours before opening.
“Hey, Brina? I have to call you back. Someone’s at the door,” she said, walking into the reception area.
It was dark there because she’d closed the blinds in the front of the building so she could get some sleep, but early-morning sun was just starting to outline the windows. She ended the call and unlocked the door, half-expecting to see some do-gooder with another cardboard box of poor strays. Hopefully, no more bunnies.
Instead, she saw Mr. Cascarelli. He was standing there, looking very much like his beloved pet had just died. “I’m sorry to bother you so early, Dottore Smart, but I have a very full day on my hands and I saw your light on.”
Oh, what a sweet man, she thought, smiling at him. He’s come to say that he’s sorry for yesterday.
“It’s fine!” she said to him, pushing aside the door to let him in. As she did, she realized she hadn’t picked up the shambles that was her makeshift bed.
He saw it at the same moment. “Oh!” he moaned, as if it were a terrible tragedy. “You slept there?”
“Yes, but it was fine! I’m lucky I had this place. No harm done.” She motioned him in and pointed to her mug. “Coffee?”
He shook his head and cleared his throat, unable to meet her eyes, guilty. “Dottore Smart, I—”
“Please. There’s really no need to apologize. I understand how these things go. You were just doing your—”
His eyes widened and he said, “Uh, no. I’m not here to apologize,” he said, scanning the place. “I am here to do the inspection. I am sure I told you about it yesterday? Remember?”
She stared at him for a moment, mouth open, and in that brief moment, her entire life flashed before her eyes. “Oh. This early?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I know it is early, but I have a long list of homes to look over today.”
“Oh. Well, that’s fine.” She motioned around her. “Then by all means, inspect.”
She feigned confidence, but inside, it felt like every nerve she had was being plucked like a banjo.
But please please please don’t find anything bad!
CHAPTER SIX
Audrey walked behind the inspector silently, as if treading on eggshells. She had all of her fingers crossed behind her back. Nick followed, too, like the caboose of the train, not wanting to be left out.
Suddenly, the horrible night’s sleep she had on the lobby floor seemed like a dream compared to the thoughts going through her head—getting shooed from a supermarket doorway for squatting too long, covering herself with newspapers, climbing into an old dumpster to stay warm … she’d always had compassion for the homeless, giving them her spare change when she passed them on the street. She’d never once thought that could be her life.
Her nerves were so tight that every time he turned around to ask a simple question, she nearly jumped back as if he’d jabbed her with a cattle prod. Then he’d look at her like she was up to no good.
“Dottore Smart, you say you engaged a contractor for these renovations?”
She nodded. “Yes. Mason Legare. You might know him. You performed an inspection on his house the other—”
There was a decidedly deep frown on his face when he said, “Legare? Oh, yes, I do remember him. On Via Milano. The one with the railing.”
She might as well have said she’d gotten help from the devil. Great, Mason. Making friends in all the right places, are you?
“Yes, that’s right. Anyway, he helped with a lot of the work here,” she said, wondering if she should’ve kept Mason’s name out of it. “But I did a lot of it on my own, too.”
“Mmmhmm,” he said, continuing on his inspection.
Great. So now we’re back to mmmhmms again.
He stopped at one of the dog kennels to pet an excited pooch, who wagged its tail adoringly. Audrey knew that animals were the best judges of character there were, so if this dog liked Mr. Cascarelli, he couldn’t be all that bad. “Cute little pup,” he said with a smile. “What’s his name?”
“Oh. That’s Alfonzo. We think he’s a poodle-terrier mix? He’s a little scoundrel,” she said, leaning against the wall. “Have you ever considered adopting?”
He stood up and shook his head sadly. “Would have loved to. Not now. Too much going on. My new place doesn’t allow pets, either.”
Audrey shrugged. “Oh well. If you ever change your mind or decide to move, you know where we are! We have quite the selection here.”
“I see that. And the place is very clean. The bones of the place are old, but you’ve done well. The animals seem to be well taken care of. Of course, our health inspector will need to make sure about that. I’m only here to comment on the building itself.”
“Of course. I understand.”
She led him to the bathroom. He peeked in, turned on a light, flushed the toilet, ran the water, and nodded, satisfied. She brought him down the hall to her office, the two storage rooms, and then the final room in the back, the break room. He inspected everything closely, then marked something on his clipboard.
“And that’s the end of the tour,” she said with a shrug. “It’s pretty small.”
He kept writing. “You say you opened …”
“Just last month.”
“Good. Looks good,” he said to Audrey’s relief. “Just need to make a few—”
He stopped suddenly and craned his neck, like he was looking or listening for something.
“What’s that?”
Oh no, she thought, following his line of vision. This was when the floor dropped out from under me the last time. Almost literally.
But all she saw there was the door to the back alley. She’d been through that door, only to drop the garbage into the dumpster there. “Oh. That’s just egress to the alley in back. I only go out there to toss out the trash. I didn’t think you needed to—”
He began to storm off in that direction like a man on a mission, as fast as his stubby legs would carry him. He pushed open the door and made his way through, then looked around, confused, as if he expected to see something that wasn’t there.
“Yeah, it’s just an exit, like I said.” She pushed open the door to the outside to show him that it was in working order. “I didn’t think—”
“I’m looking for an opening for a crawl space. All the buildings in this area have them. Do you—” He stopped when he saw something behind the door and rushed to it. “Aha.”
Audrey stared at the big wood-outlined panel. It blended almost invisibly into the wall. She hadn’t even noticed that was there. “We don’t use that,” she said.
“Still …” he said, turning the ancient catch on it. Paint flecked off as he pried the cover off the opening, indicating that it hadn’t been opened since it’d been painted. When he slipped the lid off, a musty, cold breeze that smelled a little like copper, garbage, and moldy death wafted out. She felt like an archaeologist, unearthing a tomb of some long-dead pharaoh. That couldn’t be good. Didn’t curses come with disturbing things like this?
Audrey waved a hand in front of her nose as he pulled a giant flashlight from his belt and switched it on. He stooped, and so did she, straining to see.
“What even is that?” she asked.
“A lot of these old places have them. For the plumbing and electrical.”
“Oh.”
He got on his hands and knees and started to disappear inside, but
stopped while his feet were still outside of the crawl space. “Uh-oh.”
She winced. That definitely wasn’t good. “What?”
“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no …” he wailed, making her wonder whether he’d encountered the ghost of his dead mother down there.
She leaned over and tried to peer inside, but the smell nearly suffocated her. It seemed even worse now. As she held her nose and moved closer, a giant black spider the size of her fist crawled out along the edge of the frame, making her jump. Okay. No way on Earth was she ever going in or anywhere near that hole again. No way. “What?”
“You have black mold. Quite a lot of it.”
Mold? Was that all? Hardly seemed like anything to get upset over. The mutant spider from hell had seemed way worse. “Oh. Is that serious?”
He backed out of the crawl space and shut the flashlight off. “Yes. It can be dangerous.” He climbed to his feet and started to scribble something on his clipboard again. “Very dangerous.”
“You mean like, a silent killer? Like carbon monoxide?”
“Oh, no. Not quite that level. But it still can cause grave health problems.”
“Okay. But can’t we just like … scrape it off?” Or hire someone else to scrape it off since … dark, black hole with insanely large spiders. Either way, it didn’t seem like that much of a dealbreaker.
“No. It’s more serious than that. Toxic mold is, well … toxic,” he muttered, still writing. She peered over edge of the clipboard and saw that same harsh, red lettering she remembered from the last slip of paper.
Oh no no no no no no no … .
“Wait,” Audrey said, sure this was a repeat of what happened yesterday, only in a different location. “Are you saying you’re closing the clinic down?”
“I don’t see any choice,” he murmured, more to the paper than to her. Then he tore something off and …
