by Bria Marche
Erik waited in the garden with Mel and Betsy. He walked around, commenting on the hard work they’d put into the flower beds. “I can always lend a hand if you get tired. Planting flowers is a thankless job, but the end results are well worth it. Certain flowers attract butterflies and hummingbirds. Having a backyard like this is something to be proud of. It’s a magical place.”
“Wow. It sounds like you’re really into nature,” Mel said, admiring the newcomer already.
“Yeah, actually, my mom used to run a garden supply store in Orangeburg. I grew up learning to work with my hands from both parents. My dad had the remodeling business, so I guess enjoying indoor and outdoor things comes naturally to me.”
Abby stood behind Erik, her shoulder leaning against the doorframe as she smiled at Mel, who was facing her. She enjoyed listening to Erik engage with the two women. “Ready?”
He turned to see Abby behind him. “Okay, lead the way. Nice talking to you, ladies. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
He followed Abby to the upstairs hallway where they turned right. Six bedrooms were on that floor, three large rooms with private baths and three smaller rooms with hallway baths.
“If it were up to me, I’d choose the smaller room down the left hallway.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, confused by the enormity of the second floor.
“Well… down the left hallway, there are two of the three larger rooms and only one of the small rooms with the hallway bath. The large rooms have their own baths, so the small room would sort of have its own private bath, too. I mean, why would anyone else use it when it’s at the end of a different hallway?”
“Wow. I don’t know if I understood one word of what you just said.” He chuckled.
“It’s easy. Come with me, and I’ll show you what I mean.” They turned back and retraced the steps they had just taken. “See, there’s only one small room at the end of this wing. The bath is directly across the hall. You’d have plenty of privacy other than the two large rooms in this wing. The door at the very end leads to the third floor. There’s also a back stairway that opens on each floor. That was used back in the day by the servants.”
“So what’s on the third floor?” Erik asked.
“The last three large bedrooms with private baths are up there. That’s where my room, Betsy’s room, and Melanie’s room are. There isn’t any reason for anybody other than us to go up to the third floor. All the paying tenants will be on the second floor. It’s handier for people moving in, too. It’s also more convenient for us when we’re cleaning and washing linens, stuff like that.”
“So all the tenants will be on the second floor except Melanie, right?”
“Well… yeah, you got me there. She’s a dear friend and has been here from the beginning. She got to pick her own room, Betsy too… okay, and me too.” Abby laughed at the foolishness spewing from her mouth. I definitely must have a crush on this guy. I’m rambling like a fifth grader.
Erik laughed, too, but with apparent delight. “So, are you saying I should take this small room so you can pass by my door every night when you go upstairs to bed? Are you coming on to me, Miss Taylor?” Erik laughed so loudly it echoed throughout the second floor.
“Right now, I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m saying except that you’re embarrassing the hell out of me.”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. Plus it’s kind of cute to see you blush that much.”
She smacked him hard on the arm. “You deserve a lot more than a smack, mister.”
“I like the sound of that.” He laughed again and gave her a wink.
She shook her head and unlocked the door, allowing Erik to check out his new digs. “Okay, smart-ass. Here it is. What do you think?”
“I like what I see, Abby.”
“You aren’t even looking at the room.” Abby was becoming exasperated by his charm and innuendos.
“I know… and I still like what I see.”
“I don’t know what to do with you. You’re smooth, I’ll give you that.”
“Would you like a response?” He stood casually against the door with his arms crossed, fully in charge of the situation.
Abby noticed those bulging biceps and caught her breath before speaking. “No… no response necessary. Anyway, that’s it, what you see is what you get. Ugh… never mind, I’ve got to get back to planting flowers. Here are the keys to your room and the front door. The gate code is 4-7-1-3.”
“You aren’t going to help me carry up boxes and unpack? You’re just going to leave me?”
“Yep, you’ll be fine. See you at dinner. We sit down to eat at six o’clock.” Holy crap, I’ve got to back away from him. I’m letting this gorgeous guy suck me in just like Remy did. Didn’t I learn anything by losing five million bucks to a smooth talker? Abby disappeared down the servant’s stairway, through the kitchen, and ended up in the backyard, where Mel and Betsy sat at the table sipping sweet tea. “What the heck? I was sure all the flowers would be planted by the time I got back.”
“Yeah, we’re on to you and your thoughts. That’s why we waited for you to return. What, no quickie?”
“You’re going to hell, Melanie Davis… I’m just saying. Anyway, I’ll have some of that tea, too. If we don’t finish the flowers today, there’s always tomorrow.”
“You mean when the sexy Scandinavian can help us?”
“Maybe.”
***
She rolled over four times in two minutes, pounded her pillow, jammed it under her neck, and rolled over again. Damn it, why can’t I fall asleep? Just the thought of Erik Christiansen below her, one floor down, sent shivers up and down her spine. I wonder what he wears to bed… if anything. Oh. My. God. Does he sleep naked? I swear I’ll never doze off if I don’t stop picturing him in my mind. I wonder if he’s looking up at the ceiling, imagining me right above him. No… that’s impossible. He has no idea where the rooms are situated or which one is mine. I wonder what his bedtime routine is. Does he shower before bed? Of course, he must brush his teeth. They’re beautiful and bright white. Maybe they just look super white because he has that damn tan. Hmmm… does he snore, or is he as quiet as a baby? Man, would I like to be a fly on a wall in his room, or maybe a fly on his pillow or under the covers. “Oh for Pete’s sake, get a grip!” Abby turned on her TV and set the volume on the lowest setting. An episode of Mistresses was playing. “Oh, whatever!” With the TV playing in the background, she was fast asleep in ten minutes.
Abby woke to a typical lazy Sunday until she remembered Erik was in the house. “Crap! Now I have to look human before I can even go downstairs to grab a cup of coffee.” She scanned the bedroom until she found the perfect spot. “Yep… I’m buying a small coffeepot to put right there on the dresser. At least I can have my first cup of the morning while I’m getting dressed to face my tenants at breakfast. I have to start a new normal… beginning today.”
Breakfast was served at eight a.m. on weekends. If a tenant chose to sleep in, fresh fruit and rolls were always available on the kitchen counter. Betsy would make two hot meals a day, no exceptions. Abby wanted everyone to know in advance that hers was a home, not a restaurant.
She checked the time on her cell phone as she walked down the staircase, looking fresh and quite pretty at 7:52 a.m. Perfect timing. I wonder if Erik will be downstairs. Stop thinking about him, geez, he’s just a tenant. Abby entered the kitchen to see Betsy at the stove and Melanie at the table. Her heart sank for a minute as she looked around for Erik.
“Abby, you’re as obvious as a beacon in the harbor,” Betsy said.
Mel chuckled. “She looks like a forlorn little baby with puppy dog eyes. Don’t worry, hon, Mr. Hot Stuff just went outside to get the newspaper. Damn… you got it bad, girl.”
“I do not.”
“Do, too.”
“What do you have?” Erik rounded the corner and sat down next to Abby.
“She said I have to help finish
planting the flowers today,” Abby said, coming up with a quick response.
Mel gave her a nod of approval.
“I’ll help. I don’t have anything else to do until the paint and new water heater arrive tomorrow. By the way, Abby, which do you want me to do first?”
“Let’s go with the water heater. The painting will take more time, so let’s just get the water heater out of the way.”
“You got it. Hey, thanks, Betsy, the eggs are great, and bacon? Man, it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven just from the scent lingering in the air.”
“You’re welcome. Did you eat breakfast with your folks every morning before moving here?”
“Naw… I usually ate on the go. But now, I’m going to enjoy this. Anyway, Abby, I’m thinking it will take two weeks to get all the bedrooms and bathrooms painted. I’m holding off on taking any new business until I’m done here. If there’s anything else after the painting you’d like me to do, just let me know before I start setting up appointments.”
“Oh, there is for sure,” Mel said before Abby elbowed her in the side. “Ouch… I’m just kidding, geez.”
Chapter Twelve
The house on South Battery was taking shape. With four of the six bedrooms painted, Abby realized how much the entire house needed freshening. In due time, she thought as she checked on Erik’s progress. “So how soon will the paint smell disappear?”
“Well, I’m constantly painting, but I’m sure a few of the rooms are fine by now. How about posting your ads, then you can rent out the rooms in order of the ones I painted first.”
“Yeah, that’s a smart way to go. You know, Erik, over time, there might be a lot more work for you to do here. Either the owners can pay you or you can get free rent. It’s your choice. That is, if you intend to stay in this area.”
“Sure, I’m not going anywhere in the immediate future. I visit my folks often enough, and they’re interviewing tenants themselves. Having a paying renter will really help their income as well. Everyone needs a little cushion or a nest egg, right?”
“Yes, a nest egg is always a good thing.” Except for idiots like me who let other people take it and disappear.
“Abby?”
“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“Yeah, who actually owns this place? Why haven’t I ever met them?”
“Oh, the house is in a trust that can’t be touched for years. The owners aren’t around, so they have an attorney that I go through for everything. It’s sort of complicated. I guess you could call me the steward of the house.”
“Well, you’re a damn good steward. You treat the Melrose Mansion like it’s your own. I bet the family is proud of your abilities.”
“Thanks. That’s a nice compliment. Maybe Dad was proud of me, but I’ve never lived up to Mom’s standards. Okay, I’m going to post ads around the neighborhood. I’ll be back later.”
Abby left quickly before he noticed her voice begin to crack and her eyes well up. She hated lying to him, but the screwed-up life she had lived and the mistakes she had made were really none of Erik Christiansen’s business. They had a deal. He worked on the house for free rent, nothing more. No explanations were necessary.
I need to call Attorney Lewis again and see when the heck he’s going to be back at work. This house does need attention, and I need money. Hopefully, by this time next week, I’ll have interested people to interview, she thought.
“Hello, Lewis Law Office, Adrianne speaking. How may I direct your call?”
Abby laughed at Adrianne’s phone introduction. “Really, Adrianne? Is there anyone you could actually direct my call to since Mr. Lewis is the only one working there? And is he back, by the way?”
“Oh, hi, Abby. That’s pretty funny come to think of it. I don’t know who I would direct the call to”—she giggled—“but it’s what I was always told to say. And no, Attorney Lewis isn’t back yet. Why do you say Mr. anyway? Is it just when you’re pissed off?”
“Yeah, pretty much. He isn’t acting like an attorney these days, just leaving me hanging out to dry like he did. Do you have any idea when he’s coming back?”
“Actually, he’s been doing some work from home. Should I tell him to call you?”
“Well… duh, of course have him call me. I need this lawsuit to go through like yesterday.”
“Okay, I’ll get on the horn. You should hear from him this week… I hope.”
***
“Abby, I’ve got great news. My cousin Bobby said he met a guy on a flight into Charleston the other day. This guy said he was moving here from Chicago and was looking for a place to live. Bobby gave him your info. I hope that was okay,” Melanie said.
“Of course it was okay, but what are the odds of someone actually following through with it from a casual conversation on an airplane?”
“Who knows, but it’s a start. I posted your ad on the bulletin board at work, and Joanie gave some of the ads to her husband to post in the hospital cafeteria.”
“Okay, those are good locations. I put ads in all the Starbucks south of Spring Street, too. I wish we could just advertise in the newspaper, but I don’t want all the neighbors knowing what I’m up to. I can’t afford to bring this place up to code right now. Hopefully, the ads will start drumming up phone calls.”
By the following week, Abby’s phone was ringing constantly. She had only five rooms to rent, three large and two small. With any luck, the interviews would go quickly, and so would filling up the empty spaces. Bringing in money was of the utmost importance. Abby compiled individual packets with pictures showing each room, small and large, along with the hallway bathrooms. Pictures also showed the front and back yards and the common areas, and a list detailed the benefits of renting from her. If the candidate was interested, Abby would have them fill out an application, and if all of their information was true, she would set up another appointment with them to show the house. There was no way on God’s green earth she intended to have a multitude of people coming in and out of the house out of mere curiosity. That would definitely attract too much attention in the neighborhood. Somebody might think she was running a drug house for heaven’s sake. Meeting each applicant at the Starbucks on King Street just north of Market Street would be a good central location, plus Abby could indulge in one cup of wonderful coffee and read the paper between appointments. It would be a fifteen-dollar day since she would do the proper thing and buy each applicant a cup of plain coffee to drink while they talked. Today, she had three potential renters to interview, a nice way to start the week.
Abby called a cab to pick her up at eleven thirty for her first appointment, which was set for eleven forty-five. The Starbucks was close, only five minutes away by cab. The first person she would meet was a single woman on disability. That doesn’t sound very promising, but she does have a steady income every month, Abby thought as she waited inside Starbucks for the woman to arrive. I wonder what her disability is and if she can walk up and down stairs. Abby had described herself to the woman, who was named Sharon, over the phone, saying she had curly black hair and would be wearing a yellow T-shirt and navy-blue shorts.
An extremely large woman with a heavy limp walked in the door at 11:50 a.m. Abby watched to see if she would make eye contact, and she did. Sharon headed in Abby’s direction. Perspiration ran down her forehead, ending at the tip of her nose, and her cheeks were fire engine red.
“Hello. You must be Sharon,” Abby said, taken aback by the woman’s appearance. She reached out to shake Sharon’s hand, which was cold and clammy. Oh my God, what did I get myself into? How am I going to wash my hands now? “It’s nice to meet you. Here, have a seat. You look exhausted. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yeah, water sounds good,” Sharon said as she plunked down in the chair, causing the bistro table to wobble.
“Sure, I’ll be right back.” Abby ran to the ladies room to wash her hands. “Seriously, this is ridiculous,” she mumbled as she squirted double amounts
of soap into her hands, scrubbing them thoroughly. “At least I still have three bucks I didn’t have to spend on coffee.”
She returned with her own coffee and a water in hand and placed them on the table. Sharon gulped the plastic cup of water before Abby was even seated.
“More, please,” Sharon said as she handed Abby the empty cup.
“Oh… okay, give me a second.” Abby finally sat down with the second cup of water and began the conversation. She didn’t need to ask what the disability was because it was apparent that something was up with Sharon’s leg. “You didn’t walk here, did you? Where are you living now?”
“I live in a rooming house on Calhoun. I got here on my Rascal scooter. It’s outside, parked on the sidewalk.”
“Oh my word… are you able to go up and down stairs?”
“Of course not, don’t you have a stair lift? What kind of boardinghouse do you run?”
“Apparently, I’m not running the right kind. I’m so sorry for not asking the proper questions over the phone. I didn’t mean to waste your time. You can still fill out an application if you like.”
“What’s the point? Thanks for the water, but I gotta get back home. Jerry Springer reruns are starting soon.”
Oh my God, I have no idea what I’m doing, Abby thought as she watched Sharon struggle out the door and leave. Thank God I have forty minutes to regroup before the next appointment. She glanced at her notes to see who she was interviewing next. Okay, this one is Lisa Gannon, a twenty-year-old medical student. That sounds a little better, but I wonder how she’ll pay the rent.
A fresh-faced girl with short blond hair entered through the door at twelve thirty. Right on time, that’s a positive. Maybe she’ll be right on time with the rent check, too. Lisa scanned the coffee shop and waved as soon as she saw Abby. Nice… she’s friendly and outgoing, Abby thought as she stood to shake Lisa’s hand. “It’s great to meet you, Lisa. I’m Abby, of course. Please sit. Can I get you anything to drink?”
