Chapter 7 Negotiations
Negotiations
“Hi. Heidi, right?” Morgan smiled at the woman on the doorstep. She was female-presenting, which was a good start, and had an open, honest-looking face. She shook Heidi’s proffered hand.
“That’s me. I’m here about the room.” Heidi glanced around the porch and the street. “This is a great neighborhood. Have you been here long?”
“Just under a year.” Heidi seemed okay, so she stepped back and gestured for her to come inside.
“Shoes off?” Heidi asked.
“Yes, please.” That was a plus point in her favor already. Either she always did that or she was observant enough to notice the rack of shoes by the door.
Heidi slipped her Nikes off, putting them on the rubber tray and her coat on the hook. She straightened and regarded Morgan, her head tilted to one side. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”
Morgan’s pulse hammered. Was Heidi a client from Mattingley?
She didn’t look as if she could be—she was dressed very simply, with no branded fashion, just casual jeans and a loose buttoned-down blue shirt.
She didn’t project the monied air that most Mattingley clients wore like a cloak.
But she was right; she did look familiar.
Morgan’s awareness prickled. That smile, the slightly uneven teeth.
“Are you a client of Mattingley Financial?”
Heidi’s smile flashed again. “No. That’s out of my league.”
The prickle of nerves subsided. That was the main thing. Heidi had an Australian accent. Where had she met an Aussie lately? Somewhere. And that purple streak in her hair… The knowledge tapped at the edge of her mind.
“We’ll figure it out. Come look at the house.”
She led Heidi through the living area. The pale-gray walls with white trim around the windows and skirting perfectly highlighted her white leather couch.
The ice-blue rug on the floor in front of the wide-screen TV gave a pop of subtle color, as her interior designer had said, right before she’d upsold Morgan on coordinated artwork, a modern feature vase, and a large spray of artificial cherry blossom.
“It’s lovely,” Heidi said. “You have good taste. It looks as if a professional put this together.”
Morgan offered a small smile. No need to elaborate. “The kitchen, living area, and home gym will be shared spaces. Do you cook much?”
“I like to, but I haven’t had much time lately. But I clean up when I do. No dirty dishes in the sink or sauce on the counter.” She ran a finger over the counter. “You’re obviously the same. This is cleaner than most kitchens where I’ve worked.”
“You said in your email that you’re a bartender.” That had been a sticking point for Morgan. That wasn’t a professional career, in her opinion. “Have you always done that?”
“No.” Heidi leaned against the counter and crossed her ankles.
Her socks were thick and practical, worn thin on both big toes.
“I’ve always prioritized travel and experiences over a career.
But I’m thirty-two now and think I need more than a backpack and a string of poor decisions.
Yes, I should have gone to uni straight from school.
I was accepted into Sydney University to study psychology but took a gap year.
I bought an old van, did it up myself as a campervan and worked my way around Australia.
” She lifted a slim shoulder. “Somehow, I never took up that uni place. I’m thinking about it now—and it’s about time I stuck at something.
I’ve got the intake information from the University of Denver.
So bartending is a good fit around full-time study. ”
“DU’s only a couple of miles away,” Morgan said. That was potentially good. If Heidi was studying and working full-time, then she wouldn’t have much time for anything else. “Come see the room.”
She led the way upstairs. “That’s my room.” She waved a hand at the closed door. “I have the master bedroom and the bigger en suite.”
“You must have an amazing view of the mountains too.”
“I do. It’s floor-to-ceiling glass. It gets hot in summer, facing west as it does, but the rest of the year, it’s fantastic.”
She went along the hallway. “Linen closet and other storage here. “This would be your room.” She opened the door and let Heidi precede her.
“Wow.” Heidi turned a circle. “This is lovely.”
That designer again. The room was pale cream with a light-blue carpet and drapes. The view was of the house opposite. “It’s a quiet street. Not much traffic noise. The queen bed and furniture stays.”
Heidi pressed the bed. “Good and firm.”
“It was new when I moved in. If you don’t have linen, you can use what I have—my bed’s a king.”
Heidi opened the door to the bathroom. “This is like a hotel.” Her gaze wandered over the tiled shower, the vanity unit. “If you’re comfortable with me as a roomie, I’d love to move in.”
“Let’s go downstairs and chat.”
Back in the kitchen, Morgan made a fresh pot of coffee. There were a couple of beige flags about Heidi, but so far nothing that was an automatic no. She was pleasant, although, if anything, a bit too casual.
“Where are your mugs?” Heidi started opening cabinet doors.
Definitely a bit casual.
“Here.” Morgan brushed past her and took two matching white mugs from a shelf. She and Heidi were similar heights, and the fleeting touch of Heidi’s arm against her own wasn’t awkward. That had to be good. Casual touches weren’t normally her thing.
“Ask me anything.” Heidi cradled the mug Morgan handed to her. “I’m queer—pansexual. You said you wanted queer only in the ad, so you’re…?”
“Lesbian,” Morgan said. “I’m not obvious about it. Work doesn’t encourage personal interactions, but I’ve been out since I was a teenager.”
“Me too,” Heidi said. “Had my first girlfriend at fourteen. Then a couple of boyfriends. I came to the States with a girlfriend. She’s American, from California.
We went there first, but we’ve since split up.
I don’t know where she is now.” That smile again, but this time it flickered, a bit off-kilter.
“So, no baggage, no exes appearing on the doorstep. I’m single and not looking. ”
“What brought you to Denver?” Again, the feeling that she knew Heidi from somewhere tickled at the corners of her consciousness.
“A friend of a friend offered me a job in her queer bar in Denver. But when I arrived, the bar had closed up. Left me literally standing on Broadway with no job, knowing no one.”
The memory landed with a thump in her mind. “That’s where I know you from! I met you outside Foxies; you asked if I knew where it had moved to.” Relief trickled through her that Heidi wasn’t connected to Mattingley in any way.
“Oh! I remember you now. You had a gorgeous snuggly-looking scarf, but you didn’t know about Capitol Hill Backpackers. It is safe for solo women, by the way, if anyone asks you again. As safe as anywhere these days.”
“Good to know.” A hostel? She’d never set foot inside one, even in her college days. Morgan led the way into the living area and sat in the recliner. “We might as well be comfortable while we chat. So, you’re working somewhere nearby?”
Heidi grimaced. “I have good hours at the Fly Inn, just south of downtown. I’m sure you don’t know it—it’s almost certainly not your sort of place.
The boss is a shit, but it’s okay apart from that.
I’m looking for somewhere better, though, and in the meantime, the pay’s okay.
I can afford your rent, if that’s what’s worrying you. ”
“It wasn’t,” Morgan lied. “So, why do you want to share rather than get your own apartment?”
“It’s cheaper, and I’ve always shared houses.
Made some good mates that way. Met a few housemates I’d rather forget about too, but more good than bad.
I won’t steal your food, drink direct from your container of milk, or lie on the carpet at three in the morning, stoned out of my mind and blasting prog rock at full volume. ”
“People do that?” It seemed there was a lot to learn about the roommate world.
“Prog rock is at least pleasant. One housemate liked heavy metal.”
“So, what do you listen to at three a.m.?”
Heidi laughed. “Whatever I can hear through my earplugs. In the past, I’ve listened to housemates snoring, a dog barking because he was left outside, and couples fighting.
Here, I would hope that all I hear is silence.
But, of course, it’s give-and-take. It’s your house, so maybe you have parties or listen to Van Morrison on repeat. ”
“No to Van Morrison, and while I sometimes have friends around, I’m not a party person.” It was like a negotiation. Each party set their cards down one by one until the full picture was revealed. “And you definitely have no kids or anyone who’ll be moving in with you?”
“It’s just me. Although, what are your thoughts about guests staying over?”
The beige flag popped over the parapet again. “What sort of guests?”
Heidi shrugged. “The usual. A friend who stops over rather than drives home after a night out. A regular lover sometimes, or the occasional casual hookup.”
Oh. Morgan nibbled her lower lip. Every nerve in her body was screaming No!
A friend, maybe. But a romantic partner could end up moving in by stealth: a night here, a night there, until it was four, five nights a week, and then they were in.
And hookups… Strangers. Probably drunk. What sort of filters would Heidi have if she, too, was intoxicated?
Would they wake in the morning to find the house ransacked?
“Friends are okay, except they’d have to sleep in your room. If you moved in, I’d want to set a limit on how many nights a regular partner could stay.”
“Fair enough,” Heidi said. “And you’d let me know if you find a partner?”
“I guess.” She barely remembered what it was like having a partner.
The couple of brief relationships she’d had in the last seven years hadn’t approached that status.
Mattingley had swallowed her life in a big gulp and was only now spitting her out.
She drew a breath. “But I’m not comfortable with people I don’t know—a hookup—staying over. ”
“Okay. I don’t have many hookups, but if I do, I’m okay with going to theirs.”
Wow. As easy as that? Heidi’s life was light-years from her own.
She took a sip of coffee. Maybe she should say to Heidi that she didn’t think they were compatible and keep looking for a roommate.
The professional woman she’d advertised for in the first place.
Someone who didn’t hook up and didn’t know what prog rock was.
She opened her mouth to say that but stopped.
Heidi was studying her. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She’d pushed her shirt up to her elbows, revealing defined forearms, lightly sprinkled with brown hair. Even now, at the start of winter, Heidi had a light tan. But, then, she’d recently come from California.
“You’re unsure about me, aren’t you?” Her smile crinkled the edges of her eyes.
“We’re obviously quite different. But your advert’s been up for a few weeks now, and you haven’t found anyone to share, despite this being a gorgeous place.
And I need somewhere to live, and I’ve lived with enough people to know that I’m really not the worst. Why don’t we give it a trial?
Say, one month? Then, at the end of that month, either of us can end the arrangement without further debate.
It could be enough to say that it’s just not working. ”
Morgan nibbled her lip again. Heidi was right. Her ad had been up for weeks, and the responses were fewer and fewer. Of the people who had come around, no one had come close to being the sort of person she was looking for. Heidi was the best of a bad lot, although that didn’t say much.
“Two weeks,” she said.
“Three.” Heidi tilted her head, and the purple streak fell over her forehead. “I’m job hunting, and checking into enrollment at DU. I really don’t want to have to hunt for another room as well.”
“Okay, three.”
Heidi extended a hand. “Shake.”
Morgan grasped it. Heidi’s hand was softer than she’d expected, and her firm grip didn’t linger. One pump and she withdrew her hand.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to move in as soon as possible,” Heidi said. “Save me finding a new hostel for a couple of nights. I’ve reached the time limit where I am now.”
“Tomorrow?” No sense dragging this out. And what did she have to do, anyway? Find the sheets for the bed, clear a shelf in the fridge and in the pantry.
“That works. How do you want me to pay you? Cash? Venmo? Direct to your bank?”
She hadn’t thought. She really was na?ve about all of this. “Um… cash for these trial weeks. If we take it past that, direct to my bank would be easier.” By then she’d know if she could trust Heidi.
“No worries. Do you want the first week now?” Heidi pulled a wallet from the back pocket of her jeans and opened it. Without waiting for Morgan’s reply, she counted the bills out and set them on the coffee table.
The wallet was a lot thinner once she’d done that. Morgan mentally shrugged. Who carried much cash these days? Heidi doubtless had a credit card or two.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” She rose and picked her spare key from its hook and held the ring out to Heidi. “This does all doors. I keep the house locked, even when I’m home—I’m often working on my computer.”
Heidi nodded and pocketed the key. “Thanks, Morgan. This will be great, I’m sure of it.” She flashed a smile as she padded to the front door to slip into her Nikes. She bent to tie the laces, then shrugged into her jacket. It didn’t look very warm.
“See you tomorrow.”
And she was gone.
Morgan blew out a breath. So she had a roommate. This would be…interesting.