Ally…

His apartment was a near-seamless blend of the 1920’s décor of the building and the convenience and sleek lines of the modern day. The hardwood floors were deep, dark, and rich; the floor plan open. I turned to address the keening beep flowing from a little silver control panel on the wall behind the door as Mr. Parnell waved me forward to look.

“The code is 092715, but you press this first,” he said indicating a button with a shield symbol on it. I scrambled through my purse at my hip.

“I should write all of this down; I’m not familiar with alarm systems."

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ve taken the liberty of doing it for you, but you need to commit the code to memory, now. I won’t have it written anywhere.”

“What is it?”

“Zero-nine-two-seven-fifteen,” he repeated, and I frowned.

“A date, it’s a date… I don’t want to pry, but it might help me remember if I knew –“

He held up a hand and nodded, “That’s fair. It’s the date a friend of mine died in the line of duty; it was his birthday.”

“Oh, a police officer?”

“Fire,” he said shortly, and I shut my mouth.

“Oh-nine, twenty-seven; fifteen.” I repeated solemnly. His gaze remained cold but he nodded, and I realized it was so he would never forget. So he would remember, even subconsciously, every day. That was deep, but then again, I always suspected that he’d had hidden depths to him. It was part of his mysterious appeal, I guess.

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

“I’ve put that in writing as well. Come with me; I’ll show you around.”

Truthfully, I could see most of the apartment from where we stood. Straight ahead as you came through the door, the dining room table stood on a fancy, big, red-and-gold scrollwork area rug. The table was massive, seating eight people. To the right of it was the kitchen. Four tall barstools, all sturdy wooden legs and rich, padded black leather seats, were tucked up under the high granite breakfast bar.

The kitchen alone, with its cool gray glass-tile backsplash and modern stainless steel appliances, was easily the size of the entire kitchen, living room, and dining room of my gran’s two-bedroom apartment combined. To the left of the table was a living room area: a deep brown leather couch against the bank of windows, the back of a wingback leather chair faced the dining room at one end of the heavy, dark wood coffee table. The chair had a matching ottoman and faced the television and heavy wooden entertainment center against the brick wall. The television felt larger than a movie theatre screen to me, and was easily visible from the kitchen stove.

To the left, recessed into a nook, was a wooden desk, large, heavy, and old in that 1920’s style, the wood glowing and lighter than the rest of the apartment. There was a step up ‒ to reach it and the surrounding filing cabinets surrounding it – also made of the same rich, glowing wood. The only modern concession to the look was the laptop dock on its surface and once again, the design was perfect; everything modern and old fitting into their own spaces. Even though the floor plan was so open, it felt as if everything was its own room with walls like I was accustomed to; each space had its own personality.

He stood, stock-still, behind me as I ranged cautiously into the center of it all, turning slowly, taking it all in and I felt star-struck. It probably looked completely unprofessional, but I had never been in the center of anything so posh or so nice, not even standing in the middle of furniture displays in the store.

“You have a very lovely home,” I said nervously, suddenly self-conscious.

He smiled, and it reached all the way into his eyes and put my heart at ease. I was struck by how he managed to do that with one look, and it caused me to give a tentative answering smile of my own, “Thank you, Ms. Blaylock. This way and I will show you the rest.”

He jerked his head past what I presumed to be a closet or pantry and down a hall to the right, past the kitchen. Behind the kitchen, on the left down the hall, was a small guest bathroom ‒ just a toilet and sink, and a narrow, glassed-in shower past them both. It didn’t look like it received much use. In fact, I spied some plaster dust in the corner of the shower and realized that it probably had never been used. The toilet and sink were tidy and clean, but could use some attention and the towel on the towel bar could stand to be changed.

Past the little closet door were some massive, shuttered folding doors on rails. He opened them for me, to reveal the front-loading washer and dryer and a shelving unit to the left of them that was fairly spartan, save for the home’s linens on one set of shelves. The other set of shelves contained toilet paper, paper towels, laundry detergent and the like. It was pretty barren of the other cleaning supplies I would expect to be there, but before I could ask, Mr. Parnell was speaking.

“I will give you an allowance to start for cleaning supplies. I appear to be rather limited. Don’t bother with anything bargain-basement, unless it’s something that you know works, and works well. I prefer my home clean.”

I didn’t let his words sting. After all, they weren’t geared towards my status as one of the city’s working poor. My gran liked our apartment clean too, and I had learned plenty of things from her, old-time things that got the job done with fantastic results and at an affordable price. Some of those things could clean twice as well as the biggest and best brand-name cleaners without nearly as many chemicals.

Past the guest bathroom was the guest bedroom, which also looked as if it had never been used. I made a mental note to get in here and give it a thorough dusting, even though it didn’t look like it was too bad, but I didn’t have too much time to assess because he was already closing the door, and we were off to the door set into the wall at the very end of the hall. He opened it into the very spacious master bedroom.

Cool gray walls, deep dark wood that gleamed, and a bed that was the size of my entire bedroom back home. The furniture was all very modern, and there was a walk-in closet across the plush, thick carpet to the right and a dark, open doorway set in the wall to the left, leading into a spacious master bathroom.

The bathroom was incredible, the shower as big as my kitchen at home and lined on two sides with gray river-stone tiles, some long, some square, all grouted together. The other two walls out into the room were clear tempered glass and it looked like a massive undertaking to keep clean.

The vanity was meant for two and there was a deep bathtub that looked more like a hot tub, with jets and all, in the corner beyond the vanity. This was easily going to be the room that took me the most time and effort.

“I may need to come twice a week,” I murmured.

“Would you require more pay?”

“What? No! No, no… that wasn’t what I was saying at all. It’s just so much bigger than I imagined.”

“Twice a week would be fine if that is what you require.”

“I can come Mondays and Fridays, after my shift at the café.”

“As I said, whenever is convenient for you. I more than likely won’t be home.”

I was vaguely disappointed by that, but didn’t let on. I smiled and said, “I’ll get started this Friday if you’d like.”

“That would be fine. I will leave your money on the table. For now,” he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his suit pants and opened it, shelling out two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, “this should get you the supplies you need. You needn’t worry about receipts or change.”

He held out the money to me, and an odd sort of anxiety flitted in my chest. I don’t think I had ever held such high-denomination bills in my life. The amount, close to it, yes, but in twenties. I mean, Millie did the deposits at the café.

“It’s not going to bite you, Ms. Blaylock,” he said gently. I swallowed hard and took it.

“I’m sorry, I’m just nervous, I guess… I’m not used to people just handing me that kind of money.”

He smiled. “I find you trustworthy. That trust is not misplaced, is it?” he asked and I felt my eyes go wide.

“No!”

He chuckled, and I realized he was actually teasing me. I blushed, and he laughed outright. It was a good sound, light and airy and he said, “I’m sorry,” and I knew he meant it.

“It’s all right.”

“May I give you a ride home? It’s getting late.”

The sun was beginning to set, the days growing longer. I shook my head, suddenly very embarrassed by the prospect of him seeing where I lived. I mean, I know he knew, I’d had to put it on my background-check application, but knowing and seeing the deplorable, shabby conditions of my building and neighborhood were two different things.

“Oh, no, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“At least let me hail you a cab,” he said, and I thought about how much money I carried. I did the math in my head, trying to figure out if I could afford one and he saw me do it I think because he smiled and said, “My treat.”

I pursed my lips and nodded, and we went back out into the living area. He stopped and reached into the side of his briefcase and handed me a manila folder with a sheaf of papers inside.

“How to disable the alarm, plus other incidentals and peculiarities of mine.”

“Oh, okay.” I took the folder and clutched it to my chest, the money all but burning a real, physical hole in my pocket.

We went downstairs and he had Clive hail a cab for me. As I got in, he leaned in the door and said, “If you need help carrying supplies, have Clive call Jimmy, the building steward, to help you.”

“Oh, you have one of those too?” I asked and immediately wanted to clap a hand over my mouth. In fact, I did and closed my eyes. He laughed again and I uncovered my mouth and said: “I am so sorry, that didn’t come out right at all!”

I felt my face flame, and he replied, “It’s all right Ms. Blaylock. Until Friday.” He shut the door and I think I heard him mutter something about my being adorable and I felt a resurgence of heat in my cheeks as the cab pulled away from the curb.

The curb at which Mr. Parnell stood, hands in his pockets, until I was no longer in sight.

* * *

“Seriously?” Dawnie asked, one hand on the handle of the shopping cart as I wheeled it along the aisle. Her cane was clutched to her chest in the other hand.

“It was in the papers he gave me. He says he’s a very private person and asked I not share anything about his habits with anyone. He also said it was a matter of his personal safety, which he’s a prosecutor, so I can believe that.”

“So you’re not going to give me anything, not even as your best friend in the whole wide world?” she asked, but her voice was half teasing.

I laughed and said, “I’ll give you this, his apartment is like one entire side of the building, and the lobby was gorgeous. Seriously. It was like three, maybe even four, of our apartments combined!”

“Wow,” she said.

I wished she could have seen it for herself, but I would never, ever say as much out loud. She sighed and said, “Tell me more about how hot your boss is. I mean, you already told me once before, so it’s not like you’re giving out any new information. I do love my re-reads of my favorite stories, so this is no different.”

I laughed, putting a bin of laundry detergent pods, the kind his washing machine took, into the cart. Sighing, I reluctantly agreed with a long, mock-suffering, “Okay…”

I completed the shopping I needed to do and we went to the checkout, both of us dissolving into peals of laughter. The girl behind the counter rang me up and said, “Okay, your total is $132.08.”

I swallowed hard and handed over the two one hundred dollar bills, and she tested them with that pen for counterfeit. I couldn’t blame her, I mean, my clothes, while not shabby, were from the local discount fashion store and cheaply made. I felt self-conscious but tried not to let it show. Dawnie held around my arm after I took the change and the girl asked, “You want your receipt with you or in the bag?”

“With me, please.”

She handed it over, and I wrapped it around the money and put it in an empty pocket of my purse. Dawnie held my arm and carried some of the bags with me in the other hand.

“You should totally take me out to dinner with the change,” she said, and I made an exasperated sound.

“I can’t,” I said. She smiled and turned her head, chin tilting slightly up in that way she’d acquired after losing her sight, a cross between listening to what I had to say and a signal, to me, that said she wouldn’t hear it.

“Look, I shouldn’t even be taking you with me to drop this stuff off!” I cried.

“I said I would stay downstairs, not like I can see where we’re going, either,” she said dryly. I was silent too long and she laughed, “Oh come on, Ally-cat! You said there was a bench and a doorman out front. You’re going to be what? Twenty minutes, tops?”

“Maybe a half an hour, I have to put all this stuff away. It’s not like I can just drop it on his dining room table until tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine. Set me up on an audio book and do your thing, sister.”

We went out to the street and up the block to the bus to wait, laughing and talking. I was uneasy. The city could be a dangerous place, and two young girls, one of them blind, hampered by a bunch of heavy grocery bags were a prime target out here. The bus came and we were on a route that would take us to Mr. Parnell’s street, dropping us a block away. I’d plotted the route carefully, and was grateful I could not only spend time with Dawn but to have the help schlepping this stuff to the Calvert building’s front door.

We got off the bus and had a block to walk: half a block to the corner, then half a block more to the Calvert building’s door. Clive greeted me when we were within calling-out distance with, “Ms. Blaylock! Back so soon?”

“Uh, yeah! I had to buy some supplies and bring them. Clive, this is my best friend, Dawnie. Is it all right if she sits on one of the benches here with you while I run upstairs?”

“Sure, sure!” He eyed my best friend up and down and smiled, “Pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“Likewise,” Dawnie said, and let her cane unfold, letting my arm go.

“Oh, hey! Why don’t we put these down over here, Jimmy’s helping Ms. Fournier right now, but as soon as he comes down, I’ll have him bring these up to Mr. Parnell’s.” He took Dawn’s bag and she followed the sound of his voice as he went over to the bench and set the bags down off to one side. He was kind to her, putting his gloved hand under hers and saying for her benefit, “Turn right here, that’s it, and sit down. Good, good!”

I smiled and standing near the jovial older gentleman and my bestie said, “I’ll be down as soon as I can. Do you want me to hook you up?” I asked.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep Clive here company. I’m sure he has some stories to tell.” Clive smiled and nodded, realized she couldn’t see it and said, “That I do! Let me get the door for you, Ms. Blaylock.”

“Ally, please!” I said laughing, and he chuckled.

“Force of habit, Ally. My apologies.”

“Thank you,” I said, slipping past him into the lobby, calling out to Dawnie, “Be back in a minute!”

“Take your time,” she called back, “Clive’s got me covered!”

I laughed and had to admit since she lost her sight, Dawnie had a way with people. She was shrewd before, even at fourteen, but now? It was like she had a radar, a sixth sense about people. Like she detected their energy or something. Her instant liking to Clive told me something I already knew. He was good people and a nice man. I would have to do something to say thank you for looking out for her while I got this done.

I hauled as many of the bags as I could up the stairs to the third floor and went to Mr. Parnell’s door and unlocked it. Stepping inside, I stopped at the panel, realizing the alarm had already been deactivated. I heard his voice from his study area a moment later.

“Hold on a moment; someone is here.” He peeked around the corner and I waved my hand in a halfhearted wave. He held up a finger, asking me to give him a moment. I brought the bags in that I’d set down out in the hall to unlock the door and held them up, waving them in the direction of the pantry. He nodded and went back to his call.

I shut the door, drifting up the hallway to the linen closet and laundry, sliding open the doors. I worked quickly to put everything away neatly in an order I liked and heard his smart dress shoes clicking up the hall. I leaned back to see him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt; I just will need this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said.

I fished in my little purse at my hip, the strap crossways over my chest and body. I came up with the receipt and change from my purchases and held it out. He curled his hand around mine, pressing the paper and coins into my palm firmly, but not painfully.

“I told you to keep that,” he said.

My heart seized in my chest; he was close. Stepping into my personal space with the action and I swallowed hard. Not because I was intimidated by him, though there was a slight touch of that, too. It was more because I liked having him this close. The moment was dispelled by a knock at the door.

“That must be the rest of the bags,” I breathed, “and thank you,” I said, unwilling to reject the money a second time. “I can take Dawnie to our favorite noodle shop to make up for not spending time together yesterday.”

He stepped back with a nod and went to the door, but his eyes had hardened and turned chill in the light cast from the laundry area. I swallowed hard; had I said something to upset him? I couldn’t for the life of me fathom what.

I went out to the front door, stuffing the money in my jacket pocket this time, and reached for the bags Mr. Parnell had taken from the mysterious ‘Jimmy’, who turned out to be a gentleman even older than Clive, who I thought was somewhere in his fifties or sixties. Jimmy was a black man, his brown eyes cloudy and almost tinged blue in that way older people sometimes got. He smiled and said, “You all have a nice night, now.”

“Thank you, Jimmy,” Mr. Parnell said kindly and I felt so guilty.

“I didn’t realize that was Jimmy,” I said. “He was busy helping someone else when I arrived.”

“And?” Mr. Parnell asked, perplexed.

“And if I’d known, I would have run right back down to get them,” I said. Mr. Parnell smiled.

“Jimmy has been with this building since before time, Ally. He’s still here because he wants to be here and none of us have the heart to make him retire. He likes to help; this place gives him purpose.”

I considered what he was saying, twisting my lips in indecision. Finally, I nodded. I took the bags from him, and he let me, saying, “I need to return that call, you can see yourself out?” he asked and I nodded. “Have a nice dinner,” he said and I swear I could detect a hint of displeasure, that he had forced the pleasantry out.

“Thank you,” I said faintly.

I rushed to finish putting everything away and slid the doors on to the laundry room closed. I blinked, something just dawning on me, and slid the doors open again. “How cool,” I murmured to myself and slid the doors closed. The recessed lights in the ceiling above everything turned out, like a refrigerator. I hadn’t realized they’d done that.

I jammed the bags into the trash can under the sink labeled recycling, closed those doors, grateful that he’d laid things out in great detail in his written instructions as to where everything was and how he liked things done. I peeked around the corner into his recessed office space and raised a hand, curling my fingers in goodbye. He was scowling at whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying and gave me a curt nod.

I backed out silently and beat a hasty retreat to the door, letting myself out. When I got back downstairs, Clive was laughing at something Dawnie had said, his white gloved hands clutching his belly beneath his dark green coat, with its gold trim and twin rows of brass buttons. I opened the door, and he jumped, looked startled and rushed to hold it open for me.

“It’s fine,” I said and he shook his head.

“No, Miss. It’s my job.”

I smiled and nodded graciously, saying, “Then I’d best get Dawnie out of here before she gets you into any real trouble.”

Clive grinned, and Dawnie got up her white, red-tipped cane unfurling. “Homeward bound?” she asked and I smiled.

“Actually, I can afford dinner after all. Noodle shop?”

“Ooo, yeah! You’re on, Sister.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Clive.”

“I look forward to it, Miss Ally.”

I smiled; I supposed ‘Miss Ally’ was an improvement from ‘Ms. Blaylock’ and I would take it.

Dawnie and I drifted up the sidewalk, back towards the bus stop. She heaved a melodramatic sigh and said, “Spill it, girlfriend.”

I smiled, “I’m not sure,” I said.

“About what?”

I looked up and back at the building one of the windows on the third floor held an indistinct figure and I paused. Was he watching us? I dismissed the notion. I probably had the wrong set of windows.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It was almost like he was upset I was taking you to dinner.”

She laughed at me and asked, “How did you phrase it?”

“What?”

“How did you say it? ‘I’m taking my best friend, the Queen of my universe, my absolute soul sister, out to a fabulous dinner of her favorite pho in the whole wide world’ or ‘I’m taking my friend Dawnie to dinner?’”

“I don’t know, does it matter?” I said when I could catch my breath from laughing. That was Dawnie, ostentatious as always.

“Oh, it matters. Seriously, think about it.”

I did and finally said, “The latter, I think.”

She got all excited and squealed as we reached the bus stop, “Oooh, your new boss has the hots for you!” she declared.

“What are you, nuts?” I cried.

“Not at all,” she said. “Girl, you tell a man ‘I’m taking Dawnie to dinner,’ they don’t hear ‘Dawnie’ and picture a hot blind chick. They hear “Donnie” and picture Donnie Wahlberg. Dude got pissy because he was jealous.”

I scoffed at the notion. “You’ve been reading way too many Timber Philips novels,” I said.

“They don’t come in braille; she’s indie published. I listen to her books; she has them in actual audio now. So much hotter than the mechanical voice.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Bus is coming.”

“Excellent. Favorite noodles here we come!”

I loved my crazy best friend.