Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
To her gray-pantsuit-clad credit, Cheryl has been fielding Brad’s innumerable questions with exceptional patience.
Frannie doesn’t know why Henry has a realtor on tap, but one mention of apartment hunting and suddenly she was on the phone with Cheryl and her Long Island accent, setting up multiple viewings.
She couldn’t exactly tell Henry that she was only looking for a spot across the street, though, so they also saw some great places over on Eighty-First and Ninety-Second. But Frannie, Gretchen, and Brad are on a mission, and it’s finally decision time.
“She’s a riot,” Elsa says in Frannie’s ear.
Frannie nods and turns away, holding her phone up to her chest and spinning slowly in the airy living room. Elsa’s been quietly on FaceTime the entire time, giving Frannie commentary through one surreptitious AirPod.
“Lots of good light,” Frannie says, eyes combing over the bright space.
The third and final Seventy-Third Street apartment is a spacious, top-floor three-bedroom with huge southern-facing windows that look straight across the street at the Dakota Building.
After a few weeks of painstaking and nerdy video chats and emails, Brad and Michael are certain it used to be on the original power grid.
The living room has a wood-burning fireplace and exposed wooden beams across the thirteen-foot ceilings.
Two of the bedrooms are along the eastern wall with skylights, with the third off the front hall next to the half bath and laundry hookup.
There’s a private access staircase up to the rooftop patio, and a shared ensuite between the two primary bedrooms.
It isn’t available for two more months, but Cheryl, of course, has an in.
“The kitchen is … regrettable,” Cheryl says, emerging with Brad.
“New appliances, a peel and stick backsplash, we can make it work,” Brad says. “Do you think we can get the price down a little if we’re willing to make upgrades?”
“Maybe,” Cheryl hedges.
“It’d make Michael’s year if Brad moves in, wouldn’t it?” Frannie whispers.
“I give it six weeks. He’s, what do you call it, down bad?” Elsa asks with a snort.
Frannie ducks down to pretend to be inspecting the fireplace to cover her laughter.
“Gas or electric?” Elsa asks.
Frannie turns back to Cheryl and Brad, but they’re muttering to each other, pointing to the baseboards.
“Does one or the other win points?” Frannie asks. Elsa tuts in her ear.
“You guys have to come see the patio,” Gretchen says, popping back into the living room.
Brad and Cheryl don’t move. Gretchen rolls her eyes, waving Frannie over.
“We could really do it up,” Gretchen says, glancing at Frannie’s phone to include Elsa, which makes Frannie want to hug the stuffing out of her.
She follows Gretchen up the narrow staircase and onto the roof, blinking in the bright sunlight.
“Cheryl is magic,” Gretchen says, gesturing to the patio.
She really is. The rooftop patio is laid with terracotta-style tiles, with a matching burnt-orange false fence.
It’s half the size of the roof, with poles already installed for a tent or mesh cover.
There’s a strand of lights strung between the poles with decent bulbs, and Frannie can see light wear on the tiles from previous patio furniture.
“We could grill up here,” Gretchen says. “And maybe even have a hammock or something.”
“We could have a garden,” Frannie says.
“You want to garden?” Elsa asks in her ear.
Frannie glances toward the door to the patio.
“Brad has about five thousand more questions about upgrades,” Gretchen says, motioning to Frannie’s phone.
Frannie pops out her AirPod and flips the camera to selfie view, staring at the hazy blob that is her girlfriend. Elsa still hasn’t said yes, but she’s been with them through every apartment today, making snarky commentary.
“What do you think?” Frannie asks.
“It’s fabulous,” Elsa says, waving when Gretchen pushes up against Frannie to grin at the camera. “Cheryl deserves a raise.”
Gretchen laughs. “She really does. And did you see the third bedroom? I think we could put bunk beds in there. They’ve got a Murphy bed version that’s actually pretty cool.”
Frannie watches Elsa’s hazy blob, trying to discern her facial expressions, wishing not for the first time that ghosts didn’t interfere with electromagnetic signals quite so much. She can’t tell if the apartment is changing Elsa’s mind at all.
It should be. It’s ridiculously spectacular.
“I meant to say earlier, congratulations,” Elsa says.
Frannie grins, watching Gretchen blush. “It’s just a six-episode order,” Gretchen dismisses, waving Elsa off.
“That’s an incredible feat,” Elsa insists.
“Yeah,” Frannie agrees, reaching out to shake Gretchen’s shoulder. “Big producer in the house. With your own show. It’s huge!”
Gretchen blushes up to her hairline. “Thanks,” she mumbles.
“No, no, you have to stand there and take our praise graciously,” Frannie says, laughing at Gretchen’s resulting scowl. “Aren’t you always telling me to—”
“Okay, Cheryl’s calling in about the updates to the kitchen and whether or not we can get you guys a free month’s rent,” Brad announces, stepping out onto the patio with a little hop. “Damn.”
“Isn’t it great?” Gretchen enthuses eagerly, scurrying over to him to lay out their plans and escape Frannie and Elsa’s praise.
Elsa laughs softly over the phone.
Brad wraps his arm around Gretchen’s shoulders, nodding as she explains. He starts gesturing as well and Frannie feels her heart clench just a bit. She looks back at her blurry girlfriend, rallying.
“So, I’m thinking we could grow flowers, and some vegetables. It’ll help with the heat index up here, and it might be good for Michael and Bridgette to learn how to—”
“Frannie,” Elsa cuts in.
But Frannie can see it in her mind’s eye, undeterred. Anything Elsa and the kids want. Anything they need. This is going to be their home. They won’t ever be just like Brad and Gretchen, but they’ll be together, kissing on the patio, and that’s more than enough for Frannie.
“Do you want hydroponics in the living room?” she goes on. “I think we could do it with the northern-facing light. Or maybe in the kitchen. Or the kids’ room. That might be cool. They could grow ghost peppers.”
That gets her a true laugh and Frannie grins at her phone. But then the patio door opens and Frannie turns, popping her AirPod back in. She grimaces at Elsa’s face and flips the camera view before pulling her phone back to her chest.
“Okay, I’m waiting on a call back, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’ve got this place if you want it. They might even be able to update the kitchen for you, though it would push move-in by another few weeks,” Cheryl says, shading her eyes to look at the three of them.
“That’s not a problem,” Gretchen says.
“Gives the girls time to find all the right furniture,” Brad agrees.
“So, I can tell them you’ll take it when they call back?” Cheryl asks.
“We want it,” Gretchen says immediately.
Even though it’s a thousand more than they planned. Even though it’s three thousand more a month than they reasonably need to spend. Even though it’ll take two and a half months.
Gretchen looks over at Frannie, an eyebrow raised. “Right?”
Frannie glances at her phone. Elsa’s not moving, but she’s still there. They can do this. She just needs to get everything into place—overpriced and absurd as it may be.
“Right,” Frannie says, meeting Gretchen’s eyes before looking to Cheryl. “We’ll take it.”
“Do you mind if I ask why you picked the title you did?” Gretchen asks.
Frannie blinks over at her in the low light from the lone, bare bulb hanging from the ceiling in the filthy little basement room.
Brad, Bridgette, and Michael are tracing the far wall, with Michael and Bridgette half in the wall, half outside of it, tracking an electrical wire.
They’ve been at it for over an hour, and it hasn’t gotten any less strange to see the kids partially encased in cracking plaster.
Gretchen and Frannie are rather superfluous to the operation.
It’s been four months and, so far, no one has commented on the title. Given what it references, Frannie hasn’t wanted to bring it up with Elsa. It feels too much like capitulating to her point. There’s always something else to talk about, or a much better way to spend their time, anyway.
She’s not sure Elsa would agree they’re making good use of today, but still.
“Elsa chose it. I think it’s meant to highlight the messy middle before the happily ever after. The meanwhile of a relationship, before that final happy kiss. But I haven’t asked.”
“It’s evocative,” Gretchen says, nodding.
“I hope so,” Frannie agrees, forcefully pushing down the anxiety that surges up at the thought of her book. At the thought of her own meanwhile ticking down.
She’s got a month before Henry’s new assistant starts training. Hardly any time at all. And they still haven’t found the old breaker box.
“I think it goes that way,” Bridgette says, stepping out of the wall to point at another spot.
“Yeah, deep between the rooms,” Michael agrees.
Brad pulls off a section of red painter’s tape from the belt around his waist. Both Brad and Gretchen are wearing their ghost-hunting overalls. Frannie keeps meaning to buy herself a pair.
Brad places the tape along the cracking baseboard, then rips off a second piece and holds it out to Frannie. She turns to mark the room and stumbles back.
Elsa stands in the doorway to the empty basement hallway, hands on her hips. “I’d be surprised, but that seems like wasted energy.”
Frannie notes both Michael and Bridgette stepping in front of the pile of extension cords they’ve been lugging around, apparently trying to use their see-through feet to hide them.
“We’re playing hide-and-seek,” Bridgette says quickly.
Elsa snorts while Gretchen and Brad fake coughs. Frannie rolls her eyes and nudges Bridgette. “I don’t think we look innocent enough for that kind of subterfuge, but good try.”