Chapter 3
Elle
When Sarah called to tell me that her father had agreed, I was shocked. When she showed up at class with keys for me, I realized it was happening. I had placed the thought out of my mind, assuming he would tell her no. What man would let some stranger live in his place?
It seemed sudden but after spending another night sleeping in the library, I was ecstatic and pleased.
The thought of sleeping in a bed, an actual bed, even having a good shower, one that wasn’t in the college gym, was too good to pass up.
I had a backpack that had some changes of clothes and toiletries.
I had learned quickly how to pack light for a week if need be.
As such, I didn’t even need to go home to get anything.
“Are you sure he’s okay with this?” I asked Sarah when she gave me the key.
“He is. I promise. He thought it was a wonderful idea,” Sarah gushed.
I tilted my head and looked at my friend. “Wonderful? Really?”
Sarah tended to see the best in everyone and everything. It was sweet but it gave her rose colored glasses at times. I worried this was one of those situations.
“Okay, well, maybe not wonderful. But he’s happy to help. He appreciates all that you’ve done for me, and I do, too. This is our way of thanking you.” She smiled reassuringly at me.
“I don’t want to impose. I’m supposed to meet a guy later this week about a place. I could wait and see how that goes. I may not even need to stay with your father,” I countered.
“You can stay with my dad until you figure out other living arrangements. If it’s two days or two months. It doesn’t matter.”
“Two months? I hope not. I bet your father would agree.”
“We’ll worry about that if or when the time comes. All that matters is you have a place to stay. Are you going to go tonight?” Sarah asked.
“Can I?” I asked.
“Of course. You have a key; go whenever you want. It’s your place now too.”
It was with the confidence and belief that Gabe, Sarah’s father, was expecting me that I walked into the lobby of his building. Only to have the doorman look at me like I was crazy or worse a prostitute.
“Yes, I’m supposed to be staying with Mr. Harrison. Did he not tell you to expect me?” I asked Ronald, the doorman.
“Oh, Mr. Harrison does not need to tell us who his guests are. I take it you are his niece?” Ronald asked, leaving little doubt that he didn’t think I was his niece but there to warm his bed.
“No. I’m a friend of his daughters. We go to school together. I will be staying in his guest room while I finish my MBA. Now, if you would let me go, I would appreciate it.”
“Mr. Harrison is not here,” Ronald said.
“He doesn’t need to be. I am his roommate. I have a key. Can I pass or do we need to call Mr. Harrison? I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to hear how you were so rude and unhelpful to his roommate.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my key and my phone.
Ronald blanched at my comment and seeing my phone. I didn’t have Gabe’s number but Ronald didn’t need to know that.
“No, ma’am. My apologies, if you have a key, then there is no need to bother him. Have a good evening.” With a tip of his hat, he walked away from me.
I watched him go and shook my head. I couldn’t believe how he treated me. I didn’t dwell on it and was happy that I was going to be able to get inside. The idea of a long, hot shower and a bed with more than my sweatshirt as a pillow brought a smile to my face.
The penthouse apartment was on the west side, near NYU.
Sarah’s father had bought it soon after he and his second wife had divorced.
Sarah had lived there until she had moved in with Steve a little less than six months ago.
I had been there once and had been impressed with the place starting with the grand foyer adorned with marble flooring.
The foyer opened to a spacious living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that provide an uninterrupted panorama view of the Hudson River. The living room was furnished with plush designer sofas and armchairs, a large flat screen television and coffee tables.
Next to the living room was a formal dining area that comfortably sat ten.
A stunning chandelier hung above the dining table.
I had been so overwhelmed by seeing such a large chandelier I had been afraid to go into the room the first time I was there.
I couldn’t imagine ever having a meal there, much less knowing enough people I would want to have over for such a grand occasion.
The kitchen was expansive. Complete with top-of-the-line appliances, sleek countertops, and custom cabinetry.
I ran my hands lovingly along the counter and eyed the state-of-the-art stove and oven.
I loved to cook and hoped that I would get a chance to use the kitchen and even make a meal for Sarah’s father.
I wanted us to find a way to co-exist. I didn’t want us to be strangers and if we could share a meal as a way for me to say thank you, I would gladly do it.
There were four bedrooms including the master bedroom that was off to one-side while the other rooms had their own wing.
It was one of the reasons I felt comfortable staying with Mr. Harrison.
I knew the chances of us running into each other were slim.
I picked one and put my bag down, smiling at the bed before continuing my exploration.
I walked out to the terrace. It was beautiful and expansive. It had a high-top table and chairs off to one side and two loveseats on the other with a table between them. I longed to sit out there and study or just sit and watch the world go by. I hoped I would be able to.
Sarah had said that her father was fine with me staying with him, but I wasn’t sure what if any rules he would have for me. Since he wasn’t home and I had no idea when he was going to be. I would have to wait to find out.
I walked back into the kitchen. I couldn’t help myself; I looked in the cabinets and was pleasantly surprised to see good and used pots and pans.
I got excited thinking that I would have wonderful equipment to cook with.
A sound behind me had me turning around.
I saw a man standing in the archway between the kitchen and the living room.
He was tall, way over six-feet tall, with brown hair that was cut short, not quite military cut but close.
He wore a three-piece suit that clung to him like a second skin.
Even in the late afternoon sun, I could see how well made it was and how great he looked in it.
He had one hand in his pocket as he leaned against the frame and looked at me.
He didn’t seem annoyed or worried that I was there, but more intrigued. I had met Sarah’s father once, but it had been so brief that I hardly remembered what he looked like. Still, I knew it was him standing in front of me, looking anything but pleased.
My suspicions were confirmed when he said, “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?”