lexa leaves the next morning, her cheeks flushed pink and her knees unsteady like they’re about to buckle. I’ve taken both of her work uniforms and her everyday wear to have them dry cleaned, so she’s improvised an outfit. She looks adorable wrapped in one of my shirts, secured around her waist with one of my belts. With a needle and a thread she found in my first-aid kit and a pair of scissors from the kitchen, she’s transformed my collared shirt into a dress fit for 5th Avenue.
I don’t know much about fashion, but I know what looks good on a woman. My shirt was made for her. If I’m not careful, I’ll lose all of my clothes to her makeshift seamstress work.
It’s about time I refreshed my wardrobe, anyway.
She disappears into a cab, my money in her purse. She peers back at me through the window as the cab pulls away from the curb. The smile on her face reminds me why I keep her coming back for more.
It’s not until I’m back in the elevator, heading up to the condo that’s only going to be mine for one more week, that the anger and frustration start to build inside of me. They creep through my chest, distilling in my blood until they’ve become so potent I’m shaking.
What the hell am I doing? Why the hell has it come to this?
That old house in Brooklyn isn’t right for her. It isn’t right for any woman, but for my Alexa? Our life is here in Manhattan, bound by luxury and extravagance. I want to see her against the New York backdrop at night while she looks out the floor to ceiling windows, and I want her to know exquisite peace and quiet above the hustle and bustle of the city every morning.
She won’t experience a second of that in the Brooklyn house.
The elevator rises. My frustrations rise with it. All of this is my fault. Alexa depends on me, counts on me, believes in me, and I’m letting her down.
I slam my fist into the metal door. The sound of my knuckles meeting stainless steel echoes in the tiny cabin. I shake my hand out, but I can’t shake off my frustration.
The house is too big and it needs too much work to fix it in a week, so I compromise. I order security cameras installed inside the house, with a live and archived feed I can get on my phone. The front lawn is sodded and seeded so that at least it’s presentable.
The grass is weeded and laid out with lush green plants and strategically planted with flowers that will bloom throughout the spring well into the fall. There isn’t time to fix the facade, but I see to it that the porch is sanded and primed. One day it will be replaced. Today is not that day.
The front lawn and the porch are transformed on day one. I won’t have time to oversee all of the renovations, but I take the foreman through the house and explain to him step by step what has to be done in the days that follow.
“The wood floors are in good shape,” he tells me when we come in through the front door. “They look old and worn, but with a little buffing and some polish, you’re going to think they were just installed. That’s not what’s going to take time. What’s going to take time is getting these stairs redone.”
The foreman knocks his fist on the railing of the handrail. One of the balusters tumbles from its place and clatters to the ground. I scowl.
“We’ll have to go in and fix the railing, but the wood supporting them is starting to get brittle. We’re going to go in, tear them out, and relay them so they don’t make a noise when you put weight on them. If you’d let it go any longer like this, I’d call it a safety hazard.”
I know he wants me to hear how hard they’re going to be working. I don’t have time. I’m paying top dollar and I expect the best. “I don’t need a description of every screw and nail. But you will get it done,” I tell him.
The foreman laughs. He slaps a hand onto his stomach like I’ve told a joke so funny he can’t take it. “Yeah, yeah, we’re gettin’ it done. There’s no doubt about it. What I quote you in the time frame you gave me is what you’re gonna get.”
“Upstairs, too,” I press him.
“The upstairs, too,” he assures me. “I’m gonna have half my men down here working on these stairs, and the other half are going to be living and breathing the upstairs project. As soon as the guys on the stairs are done, they’re joining my team upstairs. This isn’t our first rodeo, Mr. Long.”
“As long as you’re in and out before she steps foot in the house, it doesn’t matter if it’s your first time or your hundredth time.” I nudge the baluster away from the base of the stairs. “That’s what I require.”
“And it’s what you shall receive, and then some.” The foreman leaned back against the wall. “When you get back home, you won’t recognize the place.”
I have a hard time letting go of control, but I’ve done everything that I can. Now I just nod but I made no effort to hide my impatience. According to every review I can find, Stinson Remodeling is the best in the business. If the foreman says they’ll have the renovations complete, I need to believe him.
There’s only so much that I can do from forty thousand feet.
The plans are in motion. The stage is set. Next week, the house will be different. Alexa won’t know this place was ever so far beneath what she deserves.
All I need is to let go and let it happen. I’ve seen it through as far as I can, and now I’ve got a plane to fly.
“If there’s an issue, you call me immediately,” I tell the foreman. “I don’t care how small it is. You have my personal cell number, and if I’m not in a place where I can answer your call, you’ll leave me a message I can listen to when I’m able.”
“Not our first rodeo,” he reminds me.
“Unpredictable circumstances can crop up, even on the most familiar routes,” I reply. “If a circumstances arises, you call me.”
“You’re the boss.” He nods. “I’ll got you on speed dial.”
There’s humor in his tone I don’t appreciate, but I let it go. I’ve got other things to worry about. The renovations are out of my hands.
“I’m on the way to the airport now,” I tell him. “I’ll be unavailable for the next twelve hours.”
“Enjoy yourself.” He stretches and nods his chin toward the door. “The sooner you get out, the sooner I can get my guys in to start to rip this place apart.”
I’m in a car to the airport when the Stinson team rolls in to start the renovations. I watch, mute, from the feed of my security cameras until we arrive at LaGuardia.
It might not be the future the way that I’d planned it for Alexa, but by the time I’m done, what we’ll have in Brooklyn will make the Manhattan penthouse look paltry in comparison.
She’s going to love it.