Chapter 7
HANNAH
W hen Hannah returned, still rattled from her second unexpected encounter with Cannoli Guy, the building’s evening doorman, Bruno, was on shift. A friendly New Yorker in his sixties, he greeted her with a smile then reached down to pick up an oversized skincare hamper, setting it on the countertop.
‘Delivery for Courtney. Mistakenly dropped up to penthouse-one by the courier earlier when no one was here,’ he said, raising an eyebrow, ‘who sent it back down with some choice words and this note.’
Hannah’s stomach dropped as she read the words, which were pretty much a carbon copy of the note she’d received earlier. She’d intended to pick up what was evidently one of Courtney’s PR drops, but hadn’t had a chance to do so any sooner, so what was the guy’s problem?
‘Ugh,’ she groaned, frustrated. ‘Why is it that when some people get old, they get mean and sour and just seem to hate the world?’
Bruno gave her an odd look and Hannah worried then that she might have insulted him.
‘Age has nothing to do with it,’ he said. ‘It’s just his personality.’
‘Well, thanks so much for keeping it safe,’ she muttered, picking the package up and heading to the main elevator. ‘Have a great evening.’
Riding back up to Courtney’s apartment, Hannah thought about what Bruno had said. Was it possible that P-1 was just mean and angry by nature?
Rob always used to tell her she was way too naive about human nature and that, given the chance, people nearly always tried to screw you over. But her ex existed in a world driven by competition.
She sighed. Though he was definitely right about her being naive.
As she set down the hamper and went to input the apartment entry code, Hannah glanced toward Penthouse-1 and, without thinking too much about it, strode over and knocked on the door. Then knocked again. Obviously, he was home. She could hear music coming from inside. The guy – Ed – was ignoring her.
Oh no wait he had mobility issues, she recalled, wincing at her impatience, so of course it would take him that bit longer to answer the door. But still, no reply.
Hmm . . .
Hannah scooted back to her own door.
One way or the other, she was going to make sure P-1 responded to her.
A little later, Zoe called again for a catchup.
‘You caught me right in the middle of making Rice Krispie buns,’ Hannah told her friend.
‘Yikes, what’s the occasion? Or should I say, who made you mad?’
Whenever she was feeling anxious or off-kilter, Hannah resorted to making a beloved Irish childhood treat that was impossible to mess up – a simple mixture of Rice Krispies and melted chocolate poured into paper bun cases and left to cool in the fridge. And, after today, she was definitely both.
‘I thought I’d take your advice and try to break through next door’s walls,’ she retorted airily.
Zoe laughed. ‘You truly cannot stand someone not liking you, can you? It’s cute, of course, but it can also be a little intense, and I’m talking from experience here. You take people-pleasing to a whole new level.’
‘I’m not that bad,’ Hannah argued, though the comment hit a nerve. ‘I just think that maybe Ed is angry and lonely because no one’s taken the time to get to know him, so he’s turned away from the world. It’s like that movie with Tom Hanks, where he plays that grumpy old dude who’s actually got a heart of gold?’
‘Unless it’s a movie with Momoa in it, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, if he’s that ornery maybe you might want to take it slow all the same? Some folks don’t like other people butting into their lives. New Yorkers especially.’
At this, Hannah found herself smiling.
‘But,’ her friend conceded with a sigh, ‘if you’re truly going to engage in one of your culinary charm offensives, then I also know that poor guy doesn’t stand a chance. Literally. Just try not to poison him, OK?’
‘Very funny.’
But the call (and the baking distraction) had the requisite effect of lifting her spirits, and a little later, once the treats had sufficiently cooled, Hannah clutched a plate of Rice Krispie buns, her pulse quickening in anticipation as she once again approached her not-so-friendly neighbour’s door. She could still hear muffled sounds coming from inside, like the TV was on or something, but when she knocked there was still no response. Undeterred, she took a deep breath and decided to scribble a quick note of her own, once again calling on her trusty diplomatic skills.
Sorry about the recent mistaken deliveries – guessing the delivery people don’t realize there are two of us up here. Made these Rice Krispie buns as an apology? Hope you like chocolate. :)
P-2
Then carefully folded the slip of paper and slid it under the door, leaving the plate outside by the architrave. But just as she was about to leave, she heard footsteps approach and a burst of panic shot through her as she realized her neighbour must have company.
Hannah hurried back to her own door, not wanting to meet him for the first time in such circumstances, or perhaps needing to explain to complete strangers (perhaps even more of the angry residents’ group?) why she needed to make a peace offering. With the lawsuit in the offing, she also needed to remember she was on somewhat delicate ground here.
Back in her apartment, she was running water for a pre-bedtime bath accompanied by a long-awaited glass of wine when the doorbell rang. The unexpected intrusion startled her, to the point that she almost spilled her wine.
Ed from P-1?
Having since changed out of her work clothes, Hannah looked down at her current attire of fuzzy pink robe and a pair of comfy rainbow-coloured socks. She debated whether she had time to go and change back into daytime clothes, then decided against it. Actually, it was probably a good thing she looked so non-threatening, it meant there was less chance of anyone yelling at her.
But when she opened the door, there was no one to be seen. She was about to close it again when she looked down and saw her now-empty plate resting on the carpet. The treats were gone, and in their place was another note.
Thank you. At first, I had no idea what the hell you’d put on my doorstep so to speak, but these were something else. The perfect combination of crunch and chocolate. Rice Krispie buns, you say? Just what my soul needed, actually. Seems like you’re a woman of many talents after all.
So, I’m going to be honest here. I know your generation seems to permanently live online and thrives on being in the spotlight – as you can probably guess, I’m not a big fan of social media stuff. I’m one of those guys who likes the safety of people not knowing who I am or what I do every minute of the day.
I’ve been in the spotlight myself once or twice in my time. Not quite the same thing I know, but either way I didn’t like it.
So anyway, thanks again for the treats. Made a bad day a helluva lot better – and I guess I should say that I’m sorry if in the past I came across as a total jerk. I’m not a total asshole.
Maybe just a half-asshole.
P-1
Hannah put down the note and smiled. Result.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t what she’d just read. There was humour and intelligence to the message that completely caught her off-guard.
‘A half-asshole.’
Smiling afresh, she grabbed a pen.
Dear Half-Asshole,
I’m glad you liked them. If I’m being honest (and I am), they’re about the only thing I’m able to cook without totally destroying it.
I actually agree with you about the online world. People are a lot braver when they can hide behind their words and don’t have to see the results. There are times when I’ve been hurt by what someone’s written about me and I’ve had great intentions to track them down and confront them face to face. (Of course, I’d never do that because I’m a total chicken really.)
Don’t think for one minute I like any kind of attention either. You know how when in school the teacher called on you to read something out in front of everyone? I used to hate that. I had this one teacher who’d always call on me to read out my English homework. My stomach would clench into this tight ball of worry and my mouth would go dry. The weird thing was that once I started reading, it wasn’t that bad at all.
I suppose my worry was more about the idea of reading than the actual reading.
It’s nice to hear from you though, and if you’d like to chat more that would be lovely since we’re neighbours now. Or if you’re someone who feels more comfortable communicating at arm’s length, I completely understand. Too many people wanting to get into your business can be overwhelming, I know that only too well.
Either way, I’ll be baking more Rice Krispie buns. :)
P-2