Chapter 31
I hurry to the elevator and press the button, then wait anxiously, hoping the doctor won’t follow me out into the lobby. He doesn’t, and soon the elevator comes.
When I get to the fourth floor, I step out to see that our apartment door is open a crack.
Sam appears in the doorway. Jennifer and Frank are standing behind him in our foyer.
“Hey, hon. I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” he says.
I step into the apartment. “I was downstairs measuring for the coffee shop.”
“Ooh. We’ve heard about that,” Jennifer says. “Such a good idea. I hope they don’t go all modern and stark like those nasty chain coffee shops, with uncomfortable seats and no soft furnishings to dampen the noise.”
“I can promise you that isn’t going to happen,” I tell her, with a note of pride. “I’m in charge of the design.”
Sam steps close to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Jordan’s an awesome interior designer. You should see some of her work. It’s fantastic.”
“Stop.” My cheeks burn. “I’ve mostly done residential stuff until now. You know, bathrooms and kitchens and things like that. This will be my first real commercial job.”
“Well, we can’t wait to see what you’re going to do,” Jennifer says. “You’ll have to tell us all about it on Sunday.”
I look at her blankly.
“Brunch?” Frank says. “We made plans at the cocktail party.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.”
“That’s why Frank and Jennifer came around,” Sam says. “To make sure it hadn’t slipped our minds.”
It absolutely had slipped my mind, but I fake a smile and look like it hadn’t. “We’re looking forward to it.”
“As are we.” Frank pushes his hands into his pockets. “I have to say, we’re so happy that you’re here. It’s not often that we get new blood at the Glendale.”
“And right next door to us,” Jennifer adds, her eyes sparkling under the recessed lights set into the foyer ceiling. “How lucky is that? I was beginning to think this apartment would sit empty forever.”
“How long has it been empty?” I ask, confused. “Catherine told us the previous occupants only moved out a couple of months ago.”
Jennifer looks flustered. “Oh, well, what I meant to say was—”
“What my wife meant to say was that sometimes the board can be picky about who they allow to move into the Glendale,” Frank says quickly.
“We were concerned they would take a long time finding new tenants, which would leave the apartment unoccupied for an extended period.” He puts an arm around Jennifer. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
“Yes, of course. That’s what I meant to say.” She drops her gaze briefly toward the floor. “Sometimes I get a mite confused. Perils of old age.”
“Did you know the previous occupants well?” I ask her.
Jennifer shakes her head. “Not really. Addison and Mark were—”
“A polite young couple,” Frank cuts in, “but they mostly kept to themselves.”
“How long did they live here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe six months. I guess their situation changed, and they moved back out. I believe it was something to do with a job offer in California, although don’t quote me on that. Like I said, we really didn’t know them very well.”
“Their loss is our gain,” Sam says. “You won’t be getting rid of us so easily.”
His comment reminds me of the paperwork we signed, and the rules about selling our shares back to the cooperative. “How were they able to move out so soon? Our contract says that we have to be here for five years before we can resell.”
Frank stares at me for a moment. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.
I’m not a member of the board, but if I had to guess, there were extenuating circumstances, what with them having to move for work and all.
” He casts a glance toward the front door.
“We should probably leave you to your evening. We’ve taken up enough of your time. ”
“Nonsense,” Sam says. “It’s nice to have friendly neighbors.”
“It is,” I agree. Our neighbors in Jamaica Plain barely spoke to us.
We mostly just heard the Culvers next door when they were playing their music too loud or screaming at each other when they got into a fight.
The only other neighbor on our floor was Mrs. Johnson, the old woman across the hall.
She might as well have been a ghost. We only saw her occasionally, peeking out at us as we passed by on our way to the stairs through her cracked-open front door, which she would quickly shut if we so much as looked her way. “We’re so happy to be making friends.”
“That goes for us, too,” Frank says, steering his wife toward the door. They step out into the hallway, then turn back to face us. “See you on Sunday.”
“Nine o’clock sharp,” Sam says. “Don’t want that brunch line getting too long.”
“We absolutely do not.” Frank grins and starts toward their apartment.
I cross to the door and watch him go, with Jennifer trailing behind.
They reach their apartment, and he disappears inside.
But right before she steps across the threshold to follow, Jennifer hesitates and casts a furtive glance back toward me.
Our eyes meet, and in that moment I sense something I hadn’t noticed before.
A coldness, almost as if her friendly demeanor is a mask.
A facade that has briefly cracked to let me peek at the emptiness beyond.
Then the look is gone and so is she, leaving me staring out into the empty hallway and wondering if it was just my imagination.