Cursed

by Lynn Ricci

  Sarah set it down where it would get the most light and got her coffee. She sat on the hardwood floor in front of the painting, pulling her knees up to her chin and crossing her arms over her knees. It was definitely the street, but it wasn’t as exactly as it is. Somehow, all the buildings were right, but it was as if the artist had taken some liberties, like the gas lamps and adding shutters to every window. But maybe it was a look they were going for. It worked and Sarah stared into the scene.

  The sounds of cheers broke out on the television and it cut into her thoughts. Realizing the news had somehow become sports she squinted to make out the time on the cable box. Eleven o’clock? How long have I been sitting here, she wondered, over an hour? Picking up her mug she found it was ice cold. The painting had mesmerized her.

  Sarah placed the coffee mug into the sink and walked down the short hall to the bedroom. She pulled off her pajamas and quickly got dressed, pulling on a green v-neck cable sweater and jeans and then a pair of socks and her Uggs. She had to thank Mason in person for such a lovely painting, even if it was just on loan. Hopefully he would hang it for her.

  Skipping down the stairs she bumped into Gregory and Melanie just returning home. Melanie smiled as Sarah approached, “Hello Sarah, where have you been child? We haven’t seen you since our tea?”

  “Hi there, Melanie” Sara said with a smile, and with a small nod she added, “Greg.”

  Greg nodded back, his white hair flopping into his eyes. Melanie’s face was flushed from the cold and her curly hair was wild from the wind.

  “I’ve been busy with work and was visiting back home for Thanksgiving. I will be heading there soon for Christmas week as well. But I love it here; this is the perfect building for me. And Mason has been so nice, I was just going down to thank him now for something he left for me.”

  Melanie looked a little confused and then she gazed up at her tall husband for an answer. “The landlord, dear,” he replied to her silent question.

  Greg looked at Sarah with new admiration, “My, my! Have you actually become friendly with our Mr. Brown? I didn’t think it possible!”

  “Well, maybe not what you would call friends, but we have chatted a few times and he seems very nice.” There was a pause as they all stood there not knowing what else to say about the landlord.

  “Well don’t let us hold you up,” Melanie said, “But do let us know when we can have tea again.”

  Sarah said her goodbyes and continued down the stairs. Arriving at Mason’s door she knocked and waited. Silence. Again she knocked and waited. Frowning, she pivoted in her Uggs and was about to walk away when she heard a shuffling approaching the door.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Brown! Um…Mason. It’s Sarah.”

  “Hello. Sarah.”

  Sarah waited a moment before continuing, thinking he might open the door. When he didn’t, she tentatively asked, “Can I talk with you for a minute?”

  She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do or say and finally she heard the dead bolt slide and another lock click open and finally the handle turned. Instead of the door swinging open it only opened by a few inches with no sign of Mason. Sarah tilted her head in anticipation and placed her hand on the door, pushing gently.

  “Mason, can I come in?”

  The room was unlit. With the dull skies above, not much light was finding its way through the multi-paned windows. Mason kept his back to the window to maximize the shadow on his face. With the newspaper on the couch, Sarah assumed the lamp had been on moments before she stepped into the apartment.

  “I am sorry . . . to bother you I mean. I, um, well thank you. I really love the painting.”

  “I am glad. It should be viewed and appreciated.”

  “If you liked the painting so much, why wouldn’t you hang it here?” Sarah looked around, eyes adjusting to the light, and realized the walls were full of paintings. Some looked like they should belong in a museum and all had the same heavy gilt frames like the one on the snowy street she had in her apartment. Stepping forward to the painting closest to her by the still open door, she gazed at three women in long white dresses sitting at a table set up under a weeping willow tree. They were from a different time, with their pinned up hairstyles and clothing. Pushing her gaze away from the trio enjoying a summer conversation in the painting she again found the name Catherine in the lower right.

  “I have all the paintings I need. At times I exchange them with some I have in storage.” He cleared his throat, raw from under-use.

  Sarah, still looking around the room, found it easy to keep her eyes off Mason. She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans to keep her nervousness from showing.

  “I could never paint like this.” She said still admiring the paintings from where she stood, afraid to step deeper into his apartment. “When I was a kid I always tried to paint, I wanted to be an artist, but I guess I didn’t have it in me.”

  Mason stood still, watching her but not contributing to the conversation. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards towards the still open door.

  “Would you be able to help me hang it for me?”

  “Of course I will hang it. Just let me know where and I will come by Monday while you are at work. Now, if that is all?” He was feeling weary from the social interaction and he tried to remember just how long it had been since anyone had stepped foot into his apartment.

  “I was thinking in the living room, on the brick wall if possible? And thank you again for allowing me to borrow it. It’s the most beautiful thing in my apartment.”

  Mason gave a nod and Sarah turned to go.

  “Bye, Mason.” She closed the door behind her, realizing the nod he gave her was all she would get. On her on the way out, she was able to catch one more glimpse of the three elegantly dressed women and wished it was summer.

  Chapter 11

  Sarah entered the dark wood paneled steakhouse at precisely seven o’clock as they had agreed, breathing in the rich aroma and embracing the warmth of the restaurant. Scanning the packed bar, it was easy to find Zoe. She was mid-way down the bar surrounded by an assortment of men. Zoe’s eyes were dancing with the attention, red lips curled into a devilishly sexy smile and her skirt hiked high on her long, crossed legs. Listening to one of the men, she was pulling at tufts of her jet black choppy hair that framed her face and hugged her neck making it appear even longer than it already was.

  Sarah watched Zoe play with these men for moment as she removed her coat. As she had learned, Zoe liked to dress to go out so Sarah had tried to accommodate tonight. Her freshly washed hair had been blown dry to a silky smooth texture and curled at the ends for some style. Tall dark gray leather boots paired with a charcoal gray skirt and a pale pink cashmere sweater. Makeup even graced Sarah’s usually bare face, accentuating her gray eyes and lightly highlighting her prominent cheekbones.

  She approached the bar on the left and Zoe saw her, sizing up the outfit and the extra attention Sarah paid to herself tonight and spread the men like the red sea to allow her through. Sarah said hello to everyone and the man who had been just been keeping Zoe’s attention, Adam, called for the bartender. Ordering a glass of wine one of the men jumped up to allow her to take his seat. She slid onto the stool, tugging at her skirt to make sure it didn’t slide up like Zoe’s.

  A half hour later Zoe’s name was finally called and they said goodbye to the men at the bar to move upstairs to their table. Zoe whispered in Adam’s ear, placing her hand lightly on his arm as she leaned in, and he quickly nodded in agreement grabbing for the bar bill at the same time. Sarah followed the hostess up the stairs and started reading the menu, waiting for Zoe as she settled in at the table a moment later.

  “Did you give him your number?”

  “I made plans for a nightcap later since you’re not usually the night owl I am. Adam is going to meet me in the North End.”

  The two women easily chatted about their week while waiting for their ord
er. As they dug in to their steaks Sarah mentioned the painting. Zoe listened, eyebrows furrowed and her level of frustration with the conversation mounting as Sarah spoke of how beautiful the painting was and how nice Mason had been. She had been so excited in the telling that she missed why Zoe had become so enraged.

  “Sarah, are you really that naïve?” Zoe’s voice was loud even for this noisy restaurant. “He’s trying to buy you. Have you owe him? I can’t believe this man is pulling something like this!”

  “Zoe, I think you have that all wrong.” Sarah shook her head emphatically. “My landlord is not like that at all.”

  “It’s fucking creepy. He’s creepy.” Zoe spat out. “If I were you I would start looking for a new place. Immediately! God only knows what he does when you’re not home. He probably goes through your underwear drawer.”

  “Zoe!” Sarah, leaning back and crossing her arms indignantly. “He does not. He is not a regular guy; he has some sort of deformity or had an accident and is very shy.”

  “All the more reason! Those types are the worst! They can’t get a woman through regular channels so they become creepy and perverted.” She was almost spitting out the words and Sarah wanted to diffuse the conversation before it got any more out of control.

  “Mason is a nice guy, really.” Zoe winced. “He is a very polite and proper gentleman.” Sarah took a sip of wine and looked quizzically at Zoe, feeling like she was attacking Mason similarly to the way she treated Kerry at the bagel shop and the thinly veiled comments she had made at Lisa a few weeks ago. “Zoe, what is wrong? You seem very angry.”

  “Me? Angry?” Zoe was quick to respond but her grip on her knife and fork betrayed her. “I just believe you need to get away from that place. You can find a much cheaper and cooler place over near me. You even said there are all old people living there and with a sickly guy giving you gifts I would think you would be packing your bags already.”

  “It’s a beautiful apartment. True, it would be nice to have some younger people around, but I like the quiet and love the apartment itself. In the summer it will be great with the roof deck.”

  “Listen, I know someone who handles a lot of really nice apartments in the North End and Beacon Hill. He’s cute, too. He might be someone you should meet. Go look at a few places and maybe you can use that Christmas break to move.”

  “Zoe, listen, I appreciate your wanting to get me into a less expensive and more fun place but I like my apartment. Really. I am not moving.” Sarah watched across the table as Zoe vigorously sawed away at her rare filet mignon. The bloody meat left a puddle in the plate as she cut through the wiggly flesh.

  “Fine! Whatever! You want to stay there with the old people and hideous weirdo but mark my words, Sarah Carter, you will regret it.”

  Sarah felt a chill on her back and turned around, realizing the door to the restaurant on the first floor was being held open for a large party and it must be a draft. She calmed down and turned back to Zoe who was finished eating and downing the last of her merlot. She didn’t want to upset her new friend but she also didn’t want Zoe to keep harping on her moving.

  Zoe raised an eyebrow as the waiter hurried by and he stopped immediately, asking what he could get for her. Spoken like a women used to getting her way, she air brushed away the dishes and asked for another glass of merlot. Her eyes slid sideways off the waiter towards Sarah.

  “Oh, um, ok.” Sarah looked up at the waiter. “One more please.”

  The waiter was busy loading up dishes even though Sarah was sure she had seen busboys. “Yes, miss, I will be right back with your wine.” He offered Zoe a special smile before he hurried off towards the kitchen with their dishes.

  “How do you do that? Get men to do whatever you want.”

  Zoe smiled, lips curling in the corners exposing perfect, white teeth. “I have my ways.”

  “I don’t think any man has ever said no to you.”

  Zoe leaned back and stared evenly at Sarah, smile now gone and eyes narrowed slits. The din of the restaurant almost covered the low tone of her voice as Zoe confessed, “Once. A very long time ago, but I bet he regrets it every day of his miserable life.”

  The wine was set on the table along with dessert menus. Zoe smiled adoringly up at the young waiter and he blushed before asking if he could offer them anything else, the double entendre directed at Zoe hanging heavy in the air. Her smile had returned and she was playing with the waiter like a cat with a mouse. Sarah picked up her wine and took a sip, watching Zoe flirt and wondering what man had dared cross her.

  Chapter 12

  Henry was just arriving at Muddy River Monday morning when Sarah entered the lobby. Removing his hat, and tapping it lightly on his thigh to shake off the snow. Sarah glanced down at the galoshes; smiling inwardly she remembered her maternal grandfather, Grandpa George, and the galoshes he always wore in inclement weather.

  “Good morning, Sarah!” He called good naturedly as he stamped the snow off his feet, “Enjoying the snow?”

  “I wish I could say I was, but I am more of a warm weather girl.” Sarah confided as she joined him in front of the elevator.

  Henry winked and leaned down sideways, “Your grandmother Rose always was, too. She would get spring fever on the first hot days of April,” he shook his head chuckling and remembering her grandmother, “and she would demand we all pack up, suit up and head out to Revere beach in Charley Schultz’ jalopy.” The elevator doors opened and broke his memory which was a good thing – Sarah was starting to feel a little odd thinking of her grandmother as a teenager in a bathing suit with her boss.

  Stepping into the elevator, Henry thankfully changed the subject, asking about her project while removing his gloves and unbuttoning his coat. Sarah launched into a full update on reading the manuscript and organizing the source materials.

  The doors slid open and Henry stepped aside to allow Sarah out first. Following her out, he said, “Keep up the good work, Sarah,” and he briskly marched up the hall towards his office, nodding and sprinkling pleasantries to the employees along the way.

  Stopping at Kerry’s desk, Sarah set her laptop bag down on the rug while she shrugged off her wool coat. Kerry was just finishing a call and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she listened to the person on the end of the line.

  “Hey! How are you, Sarah? I heard the boss throwing a little love your way.” Kerry added with a sly grin.

  Sarah laughed, “Yeah, we bumped into each other coming in.”

  “So how was your weekend?”

  Sarah felt a little uncomfortable since she knew Kerry wasn’t fond of Zoe. “It was good. I had dinner with Zoe Saturday night at a steak place on Newbury and Sunday I spent the day finishing my Christmas shopping over at Copley.”

  “Oh my God! Don’t remind me. I haven’t even started shopping yet.”

  Just as Sarah was beginning to think that the mention of Zoe was not going to illicit any remarks, Kerry added, “I don’t get that woman and why you two have become so friendly. You should come out with me and Cee Cee some weekend! We go all over the city and it’s always so much fun!”

  “Zoe is a little different, I must admit, but she has been nice to me.”

  “So far! Just wait. I think she wants something. She just seems evil.” Kerry involuntarily shuttered.

  Sarah laughed, “Well, I have seen her mean streak, I must admit.” Wanting to change the subject, Sarah asked Kerry what she did over the weekend. Kerry perked up and told her about the late nights, crazy people she met, and a great new band they found over the weekend. Sarah was tired just listening to Kerry recounting her social life.

  As she picked up her bag to leave Kerry remembered, “Oh! I forgot to tell you when you walked in . . . your friend Lisa called. Now she seems nice. Give her a call at work.”

  After dropping all her stuff at her desk, Sarah picked up her phone to call Lisa. As she dialed, she was thinking that they had not spoken since she saw her Thanksgiving weekend. At
the time, Lisa had mentioned trying to call her a few times and that she didn’t get through to her cell phone. Her mom had said the same thing. She would need to look into changing her service now that she moved to Boston.

  Lisa picked up on the first ring, “Sarah! I have been trying to reach you.”

  “I was just thinking of changing carriers.” Sarah said as she dropped her pocketbook into her bottom desk draw and slid it closed with her booted foot.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about plans for Christmas week. I was going to go skiing for a few days and wanted to make sure we got to see each other. What days will you be home?”

  Sarah sat down, swiveling around to her desk to turn on the computer. “I’m thinking I’ll leave Saturday afternoon and be there in time for dinner. I’ll probably stay through late Wednesday or Thursday morning and then I was going to come back up here. I actually want to use some time researching some archives here in Boston while it’s quiet with the holidays.”

  “Great! There’s a Christmas Eve party Sunday night. Maybe we can grab drinks after Christmas, too, before you head back.”

  “Sounds like a plan! I am looking forward to it.” The familiar jingle sounded on her computer notifying her that it was booting up and Sarah wrapped up the conversation, “I will give you a call when I get home Saturday.”

  

  Wednesday became bitterly cold and Sarah was becoming frustrated with the constant interruptions. Stanley and Izzy, both in a frenzy to wrap up their multiple projects before the holidays kept asking Sarah to tie down last minute items. Izzy had forgotten to get two approvals for pictures to be used in a book, and Stanley had a couple of people to track down and needed a runner to the Registry of Deeds over at One Ashburton.

  When her phone rang again she muttered under breath, but then she saw it was Kerry.