by Lynn Ricci
Mrs. Casey had been pointing and talking the whole time but Sarah had been absorbing the perfect room that was slightly out of her financial reach. She was starting to think she could live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to afford it.
The realtor caught her attention, “And behind here is the kitchen.” Sarah dragged her gaze away from the windows and turned towards the open kitchen.
“Mr. Brown remodeled the kitchen himself a few years ago and the black granite and cherry cabinets are just lovely, don’t you think?” Sarah admired the small but functional kitchen with breakfast bar and looked up at the beautiful stained glass light fixture that was mesmerizing.
It was then that she mistakenly looked his way. He was standing in the darkened hallway leading to the bathroom and bedroom. Dressed in jeans with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and a brown jacket with an upturned collar, he looked like he wanted to shrink his hunched form back into the shadows. A black military style cap covered his head with a brim that hid some of his face. A light beard, as if from a few days growth, covered the rest of his face, but she could see the left corner of his mouth was either pulled down or just slack similar to a stroke victim's dipped mouth. The beard had bald spots, almost like how she remembered some boys in college had when they shaved their hair down into crew cuts and small scars from their youth would become visible. These, however, must be bigger scars – by the look of the patches and she wondered if it had been a car accident…or worse.
She pivoted on her heel slightly but the movement made him look up. She caught his eye and quickly looked away but not before noticing one eye seemed smaller, almost closed up due to a sagging eyelid. The other eye, the one that had been watching her was bright – either blue or green. Like the color of the sea, she thought and then shivered – dizziness washing over her for no apparent reason.
Sensing they would be moving on to the bedroom, the landlord moved into the living room without looking up. He had a pronounced limp.
The bedroom and bathroom were freshly painted and she breathed in the clean scent. Walking across the room, high heeled boots echoing in the empty space, Sarah looked out the same dormered window he had watched them from moments before and down to the street as Mrs. Casey talked about the closet space. A sudden chill slipped over her, and she closed the navy pea coat across her bright green turtleneck sweater. It must be the old windows, she thought.
Mrs. Casey led her back down to the kitchen for the pièce de résistance.
“The hallway here runs down to the basement for the laundry,” she explained as she swung open the door exposing an old hallway; dark and obviously not updated. The hallway was well swept and there were some beautiful ornate coat hooks and an old faded black and white photo of a skyline in a dark wood frame. From one of the coat hooks hung a small brass bell.
Mrs. Casey stepped into the hallway behind her, “And it is also how you reach the roof deck so everyone in the building has access from this hallway. When the house was built, this was the back stairway that the staff used so it runs all the way to the basement.” Sarah looked at the half stairs, half ladder leading up to a hatch door and realized it was the best the builder could do with the limited hallway space but it was a beautiful design.
“Could we take a peek?” Sarah asked enthusiastically.
“I don’t see why not.” She raised her voice level and called over her shoulder. “Mr. Brown?”
He was in the kitchen, just out of sight, but his presence was felt. Sounding almost startled by being included in the conversation, he said, “Yes, by all means.” The women could hear the limping footsteps as he moved closer to the doorway but stayed out of eyesight. “Just please be careful. I unlocked the door for you earlier.”
Sarah grabbed the railing and started up.
“I’ll wait for you down here, dear. You go ahead.” She smiled and waved in the direction of the hatch.
Sarah pushed open the hatch and climbed the rest of the way out. Most of the roof was covered with teak wood flooring; large empty planters dotted the deck and there were built in wooden benches. Navy blue furniture covers were spread over the chairs and tables that had been left in their groupings in preparation for winter.
She could imagine herself up here in the summer. The thought of planters full of flowers made her smile. As she looked out at the other rooftops and the pretty garden built in the middle of the street below sealed the deal for Sarah. She had to have this apartment; she felt she was home.
Scampering back down as quickly as she could to the warmth of the hallway, she noticed the door to the apartment still open and was momentarily alone in the hallway. She took a closer look at the picture that she noticed a few minutes before and then joined Mrs. Casey back in the kitchen.
“The deck is sensational. It must be wonderful in the summer,” she said, addressing Mr. Brown but pointedly looking at the cabinets. “Do the other building occupants spend a lot of time up there?”
He cleared his throat before answering. “Not really. Most are older and don’t like the ladder.”
“Oh,” She replied dejectedly. She had hoped that she had found a topic that would draw him into the conversation. There was a heavy silence and he decided to say something which surprised Mrs. Casey and caused her to momentarily turn towards him before she remembered to redirect her gaze.
“Mr. Karavetsos, the previous tenant, left the furniture but if you need me to move it out, there is storage here in the attic space across the hall.”
“Um, thank you. Actually, it’s beautiful. Much better than what I have stored in Connecticut at my parents' house. I would really like to rent this apartment and would be happy to use the furniture while I am here.”
“Wonderful, dear!” Mrs. Casey cut in. “I will get your application and we can check in with each other tomorrow after Mr. Brown and I have a chance to speak.”
“Okay, thank you.” Sarah felt Mrs. Casey gently take her arm to guide her towards the door, quietly announcing it was time to leave.
“Thank you for your time Mr. Brown. I will call you later from the office.” Mrs. Casey called back over her shoulder.
“Of course, Mrs. Casey. It was a pleasure.”
Mrs. Casey hurried out with Sarah and down to the lobby before she spoke. She seemed quite happy and as they made their way out to the street Sarah found out why.
“That was the first time he has ever spoken to a client! I’m sure he will take you.”
“Was there doubt?”
“Mr. Brown is what we call a ‘picky landlord’. We could bring in the most qualified tenant and sometimes he is a little irrational. He has a little more leeway since he lives in the building.”
“Oh?”
“He has already turned down many good prospective tenants since the art dealer moved out.” She saw the furrowed brow on the otherwise wrinkle free face. “Don’t worry dear . . . I have applications right here.” She dug into her bag again and smiled warmly. “Let’s see how your credit application comes back and I will call you.”
Sarah
Chapter 2
“Is this the last one?” Ben Carter asked as he stepped into the apartment holding a cardboard box marked ‘Living Room’ in black marker.
“Yes. Thanks Dad.”
“I see you and your mother took a tea break.” He teased as he walked by the two women, setting the box down in the corner of the living room. Sarah, and her mother Joanna, were sitting at the breakfast bar sipping Chai latte from one cup coffee maker and marveling at the luck of landing such a beautifully furnished apartment.
They had driven up from Connecticut that morning; Sarah in her small Jetta and the Carters in their Highlander. Both cars had been jam-packed with suitcases, boxes, bags and the few odd items. Since her new apartment wasn’t far from Muddy River Publishing on Boylston Street, the plan was for her mother to drive the Jetta back to Connecticut. The Carters were staying at the Westin in Copley Square that night, a short distance away, wh
ile Sarah would be staying in her new apartment. Most of the unpacking was planned for Sunday. Luckily with her minimal amount of possessions she would be done quickly and ready for her first day at work on Monday.
Both women were startled by a loud clap and they turned to see Ben with a tired smile and cheeks red from the cold. “I’m done and I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”
Sarah hopped down from the stool and gave her father a hug, her long blond ponytail swishing across the back of her UConn sweatshirt, “Thanks Dad, for all your help.”
“No problem sweetie. Just get a place with an elevator next time!”
She leaned back to look in his face and teased. "Don't you like it Dad?"
"We both love it, Sarah!" Joanna jumped in, playfully pushing her husband's arm as he picked up their jackets to leave. She turned to her daughter while pulling on her coat and with a loving smile added, "I have a good feeling about this place. I think you are going to be very happy here."
Monday arrived as an unseasonably cold day with gray skies. Sarah felt like she had barely slept and was still getting her new routine down but regardless still arrived early at Muddy River Publishing for her first day. The inaugural meeting was with Henry to discuss her initial assignment.
The young receptionist had spiky auburn hair and a splattering of freckles – she greeted her with a wide and welcoming smile.
“Hi! You must be the new girl, Sarah right? Welcome!” She handed Sarah a white plastic security badge. “I’m Kerry Reynolds. I’ll show you where your desk is.”
The office was bustling even at this early hour and there were a lot of smiles and nods as she passed by her new co-workers. The tone was very different from the New York office she had worked in – although the energy was still present, it had a different quality. It was obviously a busy and overflowing office from the rows of file cabinets and stacks of cardboard storage boxes. Even the conference rooms had stacks of boxes in the corners and on the tables.
“Here you go, Sarah.” Kerry surveyed the desk, “Let me know if you need anything. Tracy from HR will stop by when she gets in.” The receptionist leaned in and whispered, “She’s always late.”
Sarah smiled in reply and set her cardboard box down on her new desk. The box held the few small treasures she had taken with her from New York, plus a few new items she thought would make her new office more comfortable. Tomorrow she would bring the small cube space heater that Henry had recommended. The building was old and she had been told that the heating was spotty.
“Thanks. I’ll just get settled in until she gets here.”
An hour later a smartly dressed, older woman stopped by with a large welcoming smile and strong handshake.
"I'm Tracy! Welcome to Muddy River. Henry told me all about you. I just wish I could have met you during your initial interview." She motioned for Sarah to come with her, no apologies about being late.
In a brisk walk through the office, Sarah was able to see more cubes full of her new co-workers, while Tracy chatted and pointed out the necessities – coffee stations, restrooms, and supply closets. After the pleasantries, a few signatures, and the typical packets on 401K’s and medical plans, Sarah was finally ushered into Henry’s office.
The Muddy River Publishing offices were located on the third floor of a non-descript office building on Boylston. Henry’s office was on the corner of the building low enough to offer a good vantage point of the street. Sarah sat down in the same chair she had sat in a week ago during her interview and smiled at the bow-tied man across the desk.
“Sarah! How are you?” Henry stood up at his desk while she took her seat and then sat right back down. “Did you find an apartment already?”
Henry was the grandfatherly type to look at but a shark when it came to business. He had a reputation that he was fair to deal with, but he knew exactly what he wanted, how he wanted to go about it, and had a nose for new talent. He didn’t tolerate people that didn’t share the same work ethic and pride in their profession as he did, and was known as someone who surrounded himself with people he could trust.
“I did, the very next day. I just moved in over the weekend. It’s a great brownstone in the South End.”
“Maybe I am paying you too much!” he teased in a good natured way.
The meeting covered a few special projects underway that she could lend a hand on to hit deadlines, and then he outlined several new projects that would be coming on board. “You will be working on one of these projects but I haven’t figured out yet which one is best suited for you. Let’s get going with the open projects and we can touch base in about a month, just before Thanksgiving.”
Henry pulled open a day timer to make a notation. She thought it was sweet he kept his calendar on paper. Then she remembered something her grandmother had said about her dear friend Henry with affection and a hint of a warning: ‘Henry is a little old school with his bow ties and sweater vests, fountain pens and avoidance of cell phones . . . but don’t let that fool you into thinking he is old fashioned and behind in the times. He is technically savvy, has a mind like a steal trap, and can negotiate with the best of them. That’s why he is where he is.’
Sarah arrived back at her desk to find Kerry had sent her an email about lunch. She dropped her notebook and HR materials on her desk and responded. She was famished and didn’t have a clue about where to eat. Kerry swung by her desk five minutes later.
“Cool! I’m glad you are coming with us. We’re just heading down to the deli.”
“I’m ready,” Sarah replied, grabbing her coat and pocketbook.
They were out on the busy city street a few minutes later and although the sun was bright it was chilly. People hurried by, but if you caught their eye they might smile slightly in acknowledgement. Not like New York. She had never felt like she fit in there, like she was one of them, even after living in New York for more than a year. Boston, she was finding, was a smaller, friendlier city and she immediately thought of how thankful she was of her grandmother’s gentle push. She should call her tonight.
“Here we are,” Kerry announced as they reached the door of the deli. There were two other young girls standing on the street obviously waiting for Kerry. “Hi guys, this is Sarah, the new girl at work. Sarah, this is Cee Cee and Maggie. They work up the street,” she said vaguely pointing further up the wide congested street. “Maggie used to work with us at Muddy River.”
Sarah smiled at the two girls; Cee Cee was on the short side, and what her mother might call pudgy. Maggie was much taller than the rest of the group, and had long straight hair and a willowy frame. Introductions over, the group entered the deli and stood in line at the counter to order. Cee Cee grabbed a table by the window and saved it for the rest of the girls.
The lunch conversation was about boys, clubs and how hung over Maggie had been the day before and had just stayed on the couch. Sarah appreciated being included on her first day but made a mental note not to accept on a daily basis. They were nice, but not who she saw herself socializing with.
“So, Sarah, do you have a boyfriend?”
“Um . . . no. I did when I lived in New York but that ended.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. Guys can be such jerks.”
“I would have to agree,” Sarah answered good-naturedly even though she chastised herself, how stupid was I for not seeing what Dylan was up to?
Kerry changed the subject to work and filling Maggie in on some of their co-workers. Sarah perked up and listened, trying to keep all the names straight. Kerry had an issue with Tracy in HR, which was obvious from her comment earlier about Tracy never being on time. There was also the guy in the mail room that is in a band and speculation over one of the research assistants, Izzy who calls in sick a lot and is always late with her deadlines. Sarah had just heard the name Izzy come up with her meeting with Henry earlier and knew she was one of the researchers she would be helping.
The day was long but she felt exhi
larated to be working again. Walking home gave her time to think about her day. As she turned off Columbus and walked down Dunhill Street after work, her thoughts turned to her new landlord. Mr. Brown, or Mason as she learned, had been absent when she had arrived with her parents on Saturday morning but Mrs. Casey had been there to have her sign the lease and deliver the keys. He had not made an appearance the whole weekend yet she noticed as she left for work this morning that the boxes had all been broken down and neatly stacked in preparation for recycling. He must have done it overnight because she didn’t get them out into the hallway until late and she planned on asking him where she should put them.
Smoke hung in the cold night air from someone’s fireplace and she breathed in the pleasant woody aroma. Unexpected for the city but then again, this was more of a neighborhood and there were probably some working fireplaces. As she passed by the other brownstones lining the street, she paid attention to the subtle changes and updating that must have happened over the years. The whole neighborhood was beautiful, historic, almost regal, but as she got closer to number 28, she knew what Mrs. Casey had meant about her new home being special. Slightly larger than the rest, almost as a cap to the string of brownstones along the street, and with a well-cared for yard that wrapped around front to back, number 28 was indeed a grand old lady.
As she passed through the front gate she saw movement in the darkness from the side of the building by the alley and hesitated.
‘Hello?” she called out, hand still on the gate, pausing for confirmation. If nothing else, New York had taught her caution.
“It’s just me, Miss Carter. I’m taking out the trash for morning.” The voice was deep and soothing. It didn’t match the misshapen man it belonged to and, without seeing him, the voice was strangely comforting with its Irish lilt.
