Chapter 16
I don’t recognize the woman standing on the other side of the door. She’s in her mid-thirties, tall and slender, with an exotic foreign beauty that I can’t quite place. She has dusty-blue eyes and skin like silk.
“Hello,” I say, still a little distracted by the broken wineglass. “Can I help you?”
The woman smiles, and somehow her face becomes even more exotic. “I’m Kalina. Your neighbor from across the hall.”
“Oh.” Other than the board and Angelo, I haven’t met anyone else in the building. “I’m Jordan.”
“Jordan. Such a lovely name,” Kalina replies in a light accent that sounds vaguely Eastern European.
“Thank you.”
“I brought you a housewarming gift.” She holds out a plate upon which sits a delicious-looking cake with yellow frosting in a honeycomb pattern.
“It’s a chocolate honey cake. My grandmother’s secret recipe.
I make one whenever someone new moves into the building.
What better way to welcome a new friend than with cake? ”
What better way, indeed. I take the cake and invite Kalina in. After my scare, I’m happy to have someone around, even if it’s only for a few minutes. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Kalina looks around the living room. “This is a lovely apartment. So very well decorated.”
“It’s a mess right now,” I reply, wishing I could take credit for the decor, which I can’t, since pretty much everything came with the place.
“Catherine tells me that you’re an interior designer.”
“Fledgling interior designer,” I reply, self-consciously. “I only have a few clients so far, mostly my mother’s friends.”
“Well, you live in the right building. Between you and me, some of the people around here could use a little help with their decor. Trust me.” Kalina waves a hand in the air. “And you shouldn’t be so modest. If you’re being paid for your services, then you’re a professional.”
“I guess.” I put the cake down on the kitchen counter. “How long have you lived at the Glendale?”
“Oh, about nine years. I moved in not long after they turned the building into a co-op. I love it here, and I’m sure you will, too.”
“Honestly, I still can’t believe we’re actually here. It’s like a dream come true. I keep expecting Catherine to knock on our door and tell us that the board made a mistake, and we aren’t approved, after all.”
Kalina laughs. “She’ll do no such thing.
You are a part of the Glendale family now, and we aren’t letting go of you that easily.
” She takes a quick breath. “Speaking of which, there’s a cocktail party in the library on Wednesday evening.
We hold one every few months. There’s always so much food and drink and good cheer.
You and your husband must come. It will be a great way for you to meet the other residents. ”
I smile at her phrasing. Good cheer. There’s something endearing about the way she talks, and the accent only adds to her charm.
“We’d love to come,” I say.
“Wonderful.”
“And Sam isn’t my husband. He’s my fiancé.”
“My mistake.” Kalina makes an apologetic face that quickly fades. “The party starts at seven. No jeans or T-shirts. Strictly formal attire.”
“Really?” I suddenly feel like a slouch in my sweatpants and baggy sweatshirt.
It doesn’t help that Kalina looks like she just stepped off some fashion show runway in Milan or Paris in her black silk charmeuse funnel-neck top and matching pants that hug her hips and flare at the bottom.
She already has a good six inches on me, but the outfit, along with her slender form, makes her appear even taller.
I wonder if she baked the cake wearing those clothes and how she looks so effortlessly put together on a random Monday morning. “You mean like a little black dress?”
She clearly mistakes my quizzical look for one of panic because the apologetic face is back.
“You do have something to wear?” she asks, her gaze drifting toward the open bedroom door and the few boxes of clothes we haven’t yet unpacked still sitting on the floor beyond. “Because I’ll just die if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”
“Of course I have something to wear,” I stammer, wondering why the question bothers me so much. Am I so vain that I’m appalled at the thought of this woman thinking I don’t own a cocktail dress? “Sam and I will be at the party.”
“Wonderful.” Kalina’s eyes glint. Her gaze settles on a photograph in a silver frame sitting on the fireplace mantel. A picture of me and Sam at the Christmas bash his company threw last December. She walks over and picks it up. “Is this your fiancé?”
“Yes.”
“He’s very handsome.” She studies the photograph. “You’re a lucky woman.”
“I think so.” A faint heat touches my cheeks.
Kalina puts the picture back down and steps away from the fireplace. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’m sure that you have much to do.”
“Honestly, I’m glad you came over.” I walk her through the foyer to the door. “The apartment is so quiet; I was beginning to think we were the only people in the building.”
“It is very quiet here, isn’t it?” she agrees, stepping into the hallway and turning back to me. “It must be because the walls are so thick. They certainly knew what they were doing back when this place was built.”
“It’s almost a bit too quiet. Except for the baby.” I look past her toward the door across the hall that stands open a crack. “Is it yours?”
“Baby? No, I don’t have a baby. No one in the building does.”
“Are you sure? It was so loud earlier, and when I looked outside, there was nobody on the street below.”
“Quite sure.” The corners of Kalina’s lips lift in a slight smile. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, yes?”
“Yes.” I watch her cross the hall and disappear back into the apartment opposite.
Then I go to the bedroom in search of that little black cocktail dress.
The one I haven’t worn in ages because I haven’t had a reason to.
For all I know, it doesn’t even fit anymore.
The same might be true of Sam’s suit jacket.
When was the last time he even put it on?
His office has a relaxed dress code. He normally wears a pair of slacks and a polo shirt or sweater to work.
I search the closet first. The dress isn’t hanging up.
I turn my attention to the boxes we haven’t unpacked yet and start pawing through them, pulling clothes out and flinging them on the bed.
By the time I find it, the room looks like a rummage sale.
But it doesn’t matter, because the stuff needs to be put away anyway.
Now all I have to do is make the dress look as good on me as Kalina’s outfit looked on her .
. . not that it’s a competition. At least that’s what I tell myself.