Chapter 34
Catherine’s thinly veiled threat does not escape my attention.
I want to protest further, since none of this is my fault.
But I suspect that it wouldn’t be a good idea.
And my instinct is right, because the mean-spirited woman who appeared at my door quickly evaporates, to be replaced by the Catherine of my previous encounters.
I expect her to ask about my progress on the coffee shop design, but instead she takes up the next two hours of my time, chatting about all manner of things that have nothing to do with it, despite my best efforts to steer the conversation back to work.
She tells me about the history of the building, and how her family built a Boston real estate empire before selling most of it off during the Great Depression.
When she rises to leave and we haven’t even touched on the coffee shop, I ask if she’d like to see the mood board I’ve put together, but she declines, saying it would be better if we waited until the next executive board meeting so I could present my ideas to everyone.
When that meeting will be, she doesn’t say.
After she leaves, I sit on the couch, lost in thought and wondering what the hell just happened.
Is Catherine right? Did Judy only agree to meet with me because she didn’t know how to turn my mother down without upsetting her?
I’ve never suffered from a lack of confidence before, but Catherine’s words have gotten under my skin.
I briefly consider calling Judy back and canceling altogether, telling her that I’m too busy, but then I would just hear about it from my mother, who would surely find out, so I don’t.
I turn the TV on instead and find a documentary on Prime.
Not one of those endless shows about people remodeling their home, which I would usually choose—that feels a bit too ironic—but the other staple of reality television.
Violent crime. Specifically, a program about a pretty young grad student who went missing eight years ago and hasn’t been seen since.
It’s dark and disturbing. It fits my mood, even if I’m barely paying attention.
At six o’clock, I’m still sitting there, watching as yet another young woman goes missing on the idiot box, and expecting my fiancé to walk in at any moment. Two hours later, it’s Sam who is missing. He always calls or texts to let me know if he’s held up at work, and he’s done neither.
At one point, I think that I hear his voice out in the hallway.
I expect him to come walking in at any moment.
When he doesn’t appear, I go to the door and look out, but the hallway is empty.
I return to the couch and wait. When he still hasn’t come home forty-five minutes later, my concern boils over.
Grabbing my phone, I tap out a worried text.
Where are you?
He doesn’t reply right away. I stare at the screen, waiting for a response. Then, just as I’m about to call him, he replies.
Sorry. Ran into Kalina in the elevator.
Talking about the Wainwright Building. Be right over.
Several more minutes pass. I resist the urge to text him again. Nagging girlfriend isn’t a good look. But after another quarter of an hour, he’s still absent. I go to the front door and press my eye against the peephole.
Kalina’s apartment is directly across from ours.
The hallway is empty, and her door is closed.
But then it opens, and Sam appears with Kalina right behind him.
He steps out and turns to her. She leans in, slips her arms around him, and they hug, her cheek pressing briefly against his.
When she pulls away, the barest hint of a smile touches her lips.
She says something that I can’t make out, delivered with a look that borders on sultry.
Then she vanishes back inside her apartment and closes the door. My stomach clenches.
Sam turns toward our apartment.
I don’t want to get caught spying, so I scurry back into the living room and plunk myself onto the sofa, just as Sam opens the door.
His voice drifts from the foyer. “Hey, honey, I’m home.”
I don’t reply, because I’m not sure that I trust myself to answer.
What have I just witnessed? Sam’s been looking into the Wainwright for a couple of weeks now, spending hours on the computer after he comes home, because he can’t do it at work.
He’s also been spending time with Kalina.
They’ve even met for lunch a couple of times.
Which is fine. At least it was when I thought they were just talking about some moldy old building. Now I’m not so sure.
“Sorry I’m late. I should have called. But Kalina was in the elevator, and I wanted to share what I’ve found out about the Wainwright.
” He’s still talking when he walks into the living room.
“We were still chatting when we got up here, and she invited me in. I guess I lost track of time. You know what it’s like.
” He stops in his tracks, seeing the look on my face. “Everything okay?”
I nod.
He stares at me for a long moment. “You’re being very quiet.”
And now I have no choice but to answer. I think happy thoughts and fake a smile. “Just pleased that you’re home . . . finally. How’s Kalina?”
“She’s good.” He settles next to me on the sofa and kicks his shoes off.
“And so grateful for my help with the Wainwright. I really think we can get through the red tape so she can finally finish that conversion. I’ve already convinced the city to take another look at rezoning the building as residential, and I’m hoping to hear back about the interior changes at any time.
Honestly, it’s a lot more work than I imagined, but hey, that’s why I got into this line of work.
To save our heritage for future generations. ”
“Doesn’t she want to gut the place and turn it into high-priced lofts?” I ask. It seems to me that what Kalina intends for the Wainwright is exactly the opposite. “How is that saving our heritage?”
Sam laughs. “You make it sound like I’ve gone over to the dark side. It’s nothing like that. The building is in appalling condition. It’s sat empty for decades. Ripping out the interior and modernizing is the only way to save the facade.”
“I suppose.” I still don’t see why the interior can’t be renovated without destroying it. But I don’t argue the point. “Just don’t disappear into Kalina’s apartment too often, okay? Remember, you have a fiancée sitting across the hall waiting for you.”
“Point taken,” Sam says. “Anyway, I can update her on Friday night if I hear back from the zoning board.”
An icy cold envelops me. “What do you mean?”
“I invited Kalina over for dinner.”
“You did what?”
“She pointed out that the two of you haven’t really hung out together, so I thought it would be nice.”
“Oh.”
“We can make it a full-fledged dinner party. Ask Dawn and Jamie if they would like to come. Maybe invite some of the other neighbors, too.”
“Sure,” I say, even as an image of Kalina wrapping her arms around Sam and pressing her cheek against his forces its way into my head.