Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
CO-OPTED MY HEART
HUDSON
She has become the sole focus of my day.
Even as I am sitting here at this round table, waiting for Mrs. Saraceno to pass judgment.
It’s funny actually. How this little older lady has become the single most frustrating hurdle I’ve ever experienced.
Really think about that, on any given day I am dealing with the loudest, most abrasive, cutthroat attorneys, business people, and somehow, this woman is the worst of the worst.
She treats this co-op board like it is the inherited right of her lineage, divine providence from God above. At every turn she has been the voice that rejects the application for sale, and the subsequent plans for renovation.
Board meetings are held in the multi-purpose space of this building, a rogue piece of confetti implying the last use of this room was something that looked more like a gender reveal.
She’s positioned directly across from me, with two other resident board members on either side,.
One of them lives on my floor. They really are the most neutral obstacle one could encounter.
It’s her and I locked into this death spiral of board approvals.
“Mr. Ellis,” she says, steepling her fingers in a way that is actually villainous before folding them into each other and placing them on the stack of papers in front of her. Very clearly my most recent board application.
Her hair is perfectly coiffed, Louisa told me she has a standing appointment, something I guess they covered in one of their casual hallway chats. And her tweed jacket does not indicate a profession, but a luxury shopping habit.
“We’ve reviewed your application once again.” It’s said in a tone as flat as you can imagine. Not giving away the ending means she can keep me here on the hook for as long as she wants. I don’t miss what looks like the whisper of joy on her face at the use of the word again.
“I appreciate this group’s time on the matter,” I offer.
Hoping some gratitude might further this more than it has in the past. I have everything I need to make this case.
Financials, architectural plans, anything anyone else would need to get this approval.
This isn’t even the first time such a request has been made.
In fact, Mr. Rogers, seriously, like the neighborhood’s Mr. Rogers, did something similar three years ago.
I have that readily available also. But Mrs. Saraceno’s issue was never the plans themselves, it has been and remains with me.
“And, we’ve also had the opportunity to get to know your wife,” she emphasizes, indicating the only thing that has changed between the last application and now.
Within me, there is a shift, the same one there always is when someone mentions Louisa.
“We have found her to be…. well, quite unlike you.” I don’t flinch, it’s true and the best compliment she can receive, especially from this crowd.
I press my lips together into a clearly forced smile, the compliment for Louisa wrapped in an insult to me, but I don’t care.
If Louisa’s charm is the key to unlocking my renovation, I’ll take it.
I’ll take anything. “She’s even shared you’d offered to support this board with any legal guidance or contract negotiation we may need. ”
Of course Louisa found the thing they would want from me, besides just my money, which really should be enough, and extended a peace offering I never thought to.
“Anything you need,” I say, knowing this clearly seems to be of interest to them.
Mrs. Saraceno looks to the two board members on her left, who nod in a synchronized, bobblehead fashion.
“Then the board has decided to approve your application for the upstairs unit. You can proceed with the purchase and subsequent renovation.” The relief should be instantaneous.
It should have felt like crossing a finish line I’ve been sprinting toward for years.
She folds her aged hands and places them on the table, waiting for me to kiss the ring.
Which of course I do, metaphorically, with a gross display of gratitude.
It’s clear that the gratitude I need to express is to Louisa.
“You can go,” Mrs. Saraceno’s voice breaks the thought I’ve become tangled in. Her tone shifts from flat to terrifyingly pleasant as I push back from my chair, not needing to stay now that my business here is complete.
“Now, on to our second order of business. The sale of apartment 7B.” She pulls a second folder from beneath the first. This one was thinner, but as the delayed impact of the words land, and the sight of Louisa’s unit number is confirmed, all the blood in my veins rushes to my heart.
I return my ass to the seat with a curt “I'll stay” back in her direction. She doesn’t acknowledge it, just proceeds.
Louisa doesn’t own her apartment, but she’s told me more than once how it was ‘serendipitous.’ Her word, not mine.
Our meeting, her next door, all of it, does sometimes feel that way, though that’s not what she meant.
For her, it was the perfect size, the perfect location, and the perfect amount of independence.
It was also her stipulation as part of our agreement that she get to keep it.
I’m not trying to displace her from her home when all this is done. Doesn’t matter if I’d rather her stay.
“We have received formal notice from the owner of 7B, they’ve decided to put the unit up for sale, effective immediately.
Per the bylaws, the board has the right of first refusal, but we’ve decided to waive it in favor of an open-market listing, allowing it to be sold immediately as the tenant is none other than Mrs. Ellis, whose residence since marriage has been 7A.
We foresee no reason this should not be a swift sale. ”
The room seems to tilt, this will break her heart. Her space has been her safety net, one she wove together herself. More than that, this apartment has been her home. She even told me she had talked to the owner about purchasing it herself.
“Wait,” I say, my voice sounding tight, even to me. “The owner is selling, now? It was my understanding he planned to sell it in a few years.”
“Ah, yes, we spoke to him about that, but given your plans, it seems unnecessary now,” she says as a slow, shark-like smile spreads across her face. “After all, you’ve just been approved to double the size of your own residence. Surely your wife has no need for a separate lease now.”
Inadvertently, in getting what I’ve wanted for so long, it’s come at the expense of Louisa.
The approval for the upstairs purchase, the victory I’ve been chasing, tastes bitter now that I know the cost. The arrangement we made, the tidy temporary deal we’d struck, had this flaw. And I totally fucking missed it.
I straighten in my chair, calming my voice to convince this board. “7B was my wife's home, before she was mine. She has a right of first purchase the owner verbally extended. I’d like to honor it.”
“Mr. Ellis, we cannot allow for another purchase of a unit on your behalf. This is a co-op, not a monopoly.” The handful of other people at this table all nod in agreement. It’s been Mrs. Saraceno and I in this death spiral for so long, I forgot anyone else was even here.
“You all know her,” I say. Trying to sound like a man making a reasonable point rather than what I actually am, which is a man who has run out of ways to pretend this is about anything other than her. “You know how much this space means to her.”
I turn to Mr. Ambrose. “She’s carried your groceries once a week since she moved in, and the only time you FaceTime your grandchildren is when she comes over to help you.” His lips press together, not disagreeing.
I shift to Ms. Aguilar, seated directly beside me. “When you spent three weeks in Europe on your eat-pray-love journey, or whatever you called it, Louisa watered your plants. Even bought you a new one because the snake plant ‘looked lonely.’” A pause. “Her words,” I say quickly and clarifying.
I turn back to Mrs. Saraceno. “And you.” I say it with more aggression than is helpful, but marginally less than she deserves.
“When your—” I gesture at the yapping fluff in the stroller, “—was sick, she made dog biscuits. And when you were in the hospital with pancreatitis, she not only visited you. She brought scones to the nurses.” I let that sit for a moment.
“This apartment means something to her that predates me, I want to make sure it remains hers.”
If that apartment sells, she won’t just be moving out of my apartment at the end of this, she’ll be moving out, gone completely from my life.
And while there may have been a brief moment in time when I thought I’d rather her be gone, now?
I can’t imagine not seeing her even in passing.
No matter how painful it will be to see her move out and move on in all the ways I wish I was able to give her, I can’t just let it happen.
“I’m sorry, Hudson,” Mr. Ambrose says, speaking for the first time this meeting. “She’s been a wonderful neighbor, she’s a lovely person. But that doesn’t change anything.”
The sound of my own heart beating in my chest with guilt is only drowned out by the screaming in my head. Rapidly thinking through every alternative.
“If there is nothing else, I move to adjourn," she says, as the small group around her hums and nods in agreement.
“Actually, one more thing…”
I have to tell her. Not just about the sale of the apartment, about all of it. The other thing, underneath every decision I've made since I’ve met her, that I’ve been calling strategy, practicality, a fucking liability, when it has never, she has never been, not once, any of those things.
My phone goes before I’ve finished the thought.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Where are you?” Lucas asks urgently.
“Wrapping up the co-op stuff,” I say. “What happened?”
“Cal fucking Sterling.” Lucas, for all he is, reserves a swear word for only the most critical moments, which tells me everything I need to know. “He made a move this morning, it's aggressive and it's going to hold up the whole acquisition if we don't get ahead of it.”
“I’ll be there,” I say. It’s fine; by lunch we will have figured out whatever move Cal made and how to ensure it doesn’t turn the whole deal into a house of cards.
Just means that the morning conversation I had motivated myself to have I now can chicken my fucking way out of. Again. This time, worse.
I pull out my phone and type quickly before I can think too carefully about it.
Co-op board approved the purchase
I look at it, and quickly send another that says ‘heading to work for an emergency, we should talk about it when I’m home.
’ It's insufficient for everything it has to carry.
But it's true, and it will have to hold until I can say the rest of it properly, in person, with her looking at me so I can watch her face when she understands what I mean.
I take the elevator down and by the time I hit the lobby, her response has come through.
Louisa
Congratulations, you won’t have to deal with me for much longer! :)
Little does she know, I’d like to deal with her for the rest of my fucking life.