Her heart lifted at her mom’s reaction. It was the quiet joy she only saw in moments like these: when she was talking about performing.
Tentatively, Natalie held out her arms and reached toward her mom, but the older woman chuckled and waved her away. “I’m a mess right now. Besides, it’s almost time for your shift, Natalie. Now hurry up and get changed.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Natalie pulled a pillow around her head to block out the present-day thumping, but she couldn’t suppress the memories as easily.
Her mom had enjoyed a brief acting career in New York City before meeting her dad, a charmer who’d occupied just about every type of sales job known to man. When their short-term relationship had resulted in a long-term problem, in the form of a baby girl, they had married and moved Upstate. Five years into the marriage, her dad had split and her mom—now a single parent—had put her own acting ambitions away, once and for all.
Not surprisingly, when Natalie had shown an affinity for the stage, her mom had been pleased. The only time it was guaranteed her mom would take off work was when Natalie had a play or recital.
An affinity for the stage. For the first time in her life, she began to wonder if that was true. She groaned. Ugh! That rehearsal! How could one scene and one uptight director completely derail her?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was getting louder, except now it sounded more like thump thumpty-thump. Thump thumpty-thump. Louder and louder, as if it were approaching her door.
It was music! Specifically, it was the pumping bass of a popular hip-hop song. The name of the rapper escaped her at the moment, but he was a chart-topper. Thump thumpty-thump.
Now overcome with curiosity, she slid off the bed, straightening the previous day’s clothing, which she’d been too tired to change out of and went to the front door.
She cracked the door open and peeked out, without removing the chain lock, but almost jumped back as the profile of a face framed with horn-rimmed glasses eclipsed the opening. The face belonged to a man, who appeared to be in his late fifties. He had to be. Nobody younger would don glasses and a sweater-vest like that. He shuffled past her door, arms loaded with a stack of pizza boxes. Beside him was a Latino teenager who was also carrying pizza boxes.
Behind them, a small, pretty teenage girl with an Afro carried a portable Bluetooth speaker. Clearly, that was the source of the music. After that, seven or eight younger boys and girls filed past, all bopping their heads and swiveling their bodies in time with the beat. The last kid in the group appeared to be eleven or twelve, and he was accompanied by a middle-aged woman—maybe the man’s wife—wearing a black and tan Chanel suit.
The boy looked at the woman and gestured to her. “Come on, Ms. D. Show us what you got!”
The rest of the kids still in Natalie’s line of sight halted and turned. “Ms. D,” as he had called her, didn’t crack a smile, but she said, “Tryna steal my moves, little man?”
The kids all snorted and giggled.
“Hey, only if I like ’em!” he said with an elaborate shrug.
The woman began to swing her shoulders with the rhythm. The boy whooped, and the two of them danced together, accompanied by the cheers of the others.
Finally, the whole group clambered away, and the thud of a closing door reverberated down the long hall.
Natalie started to back away but paused when she heard doors start to open. She finally unhooked the chain and looked down the hall. Three doors in the hallway gaped open as various residents exited their apartments and hurried to the elevator. Oddly enough, they didn’t look startled or upset by the noise. All they did was make a synchronized escape like it was a regular Saturday afternoon occurrence.
Suddenly, the cheap rent was beginning to make sense.
8
The rest of Saturday passed without any further commotion in the apartment building. In fact, things were so quiet that, by late Sunday morning, Natalie was getting stir-crazy, so she decided to find the nearest market and buy a few groceries.
She found one of those small neighborhood corner stores she loved, whose shelves boasted selections of food from all different ethnic origins. In the interest of making her money stretch, she picked out some versatile pastas and grains she could use for several meals.
On her way back to the apartment, she passed a stately church with a tall steeple that looked like it had probably been built centuries before. Despite its age, a vibrant mass of people flooded out the doors as if the service had just ended. Many of the children wore dresses and suits in bright summer colors.
One man and a teenage girl who was probably his daughter stood proudly in front of the church sign. He put his arm around her while another man took their picture with a cellphone.
Her eyes rested on the man and the girl for another minute until her heart felt an unexpected twinge. Turning, she walked down the street and away from the church.
When she was sixteen and had just started working for Betty for the first time, the kindly woman had invited her to church for Easter. It was a novelty for Natalie, so she had gone and even enjoyed it. But she’d found herself stumped by all the talk of forgiveness.
She’d told Betty, “I just don’t get how Jesus could have forgiven all those people who abandoned him and even killed him. I don’t even want to forgive my dad for running off when I was little.”
Betty had nodded knowingly. “Is this about your dad calling and asking you to have Easter lunch with him?”
“Yeah. It’s been two years since I’ve even heard from him, and now he thinks he can breeze into town and expect me to play happy family?”
Betty’s smile had turned sad, but she hadn’t responded.
“Look, I’m not the ultimate self-absorbed teen. I know my stuff is small compared to all that,” she vaguely waved at the church they were leaving.
Betty raised a finger. “It’s not small to God. Remember that. And also remember that today is about renewal and hope. Jesus forgave to give us new life and to set us an example of forgiveness. Now maybe you won’t be able to accept it all at once, but I sense that there’s a chance for some renewal here. Personally, I think your dad was a dodo bird for running out on you and Diane like he did. But he’s still your dad, and maybe he’s remembered that, too. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”
In the end, Natalie had agreed with Betty and gone to the restaurant her dad suggested, still decked in her Easter finest. She’d thought about what it would be like to have him back again while she waited.
And waited. And waited.
After an hour and a half, with no message and no sign of him, she’d finally gone home.
At her house, she’d been greeted by a note from her mom saying she’d be working an extra shift to cover for a coworker who’d wanted to be with his family for the holiday.
What a joke.
She had sat alone and sulked for all of an hour before calling her boyfriend Blair, who was willing to escape his family for some alone time with her.
Up to then, she’d kept him at a commonsense distance, but that night she’d ignored sense in favor of closeness.
A police siren wailed past, shaking her out of her memory. She looked up, startled to see she’d made her way back to the apartment without even paying attention.
Once she got off the elevator, she shuffled back to the apartment, her footsteps sounding heavy and hollow despite the hallway carpet.
Whatever she had or hadn’t done in the sixteen years since that Easter, none of it had prevented her from winding up in the same place over and over again: alone in an empty room.
She pulled out the keys, found the right one then paused as the heavy, noxious smell of smoke accosted her nostrils. Glancing around, her gaze caught on the door at the end of the hall.
Unmistakable wisps of smoke were puffing under the door.
9
Natalie dropped her groceries and hurried down the hall toward the smoking door. She placed the back
of her hand against the wood and found it wasn’t hot. Not yet anyway.
She slapped her palm on the door several times and yelled, “Hey, is anybody in there?”
No answer.
After knocking again, she finally tried the door handle. It gave immediately and the door swung open.
“Hey! Anybody home?”
No one seemed to be around. The entire apartment was slowly filling with a thin cloud of smoke, but it was worse in the kitchen. She coughed and covered her mouth with her sleeve, slowly making her way further inside while she searched the room.
There! A small flame was blazing on the stovetop.
She quickly scanned the kitchen and spotted an open canister of flour. Snatching it up, she rushed to the stove and sprinkled the flour over the fire until it was extinguished. Then she turned off the burner.
From the looks of things, a couple of wrappers from sticks of butter had landed on the stove burner while it was still on, and they had caught fire.
She waved her arms to clear the air, suddenly noticing the light was on inside the oven. When she opened the door, the smell of burning food seeped out, so she grabbed a potholder and pulled a tray from the oven.
The tray held three neat rows of what appeared to be lumps of coal, but were probably meant to be cookies.
She set the tray down with a thud. “Yuck.”
Just then, a glass door leading from the kitchen to a back lanai swung open and the man in the horn-rimmed glasses appeared.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed, and took a step back when he saw Natalie. His eyes, already magnified by his glasses, grew even larger.
Although she needed to explain herself, for some reason, she couldn’t resist taking that moment to study him better. First of all, he wasn’t fifty-something after all. Up close, it was clear that he was no older than forty. But his mannerisms, glasses, thin tie, and sweater-vest conveyed an older personality.
The old dude trappings notwithstanding, he was actually tall and slim with a nice full head of dark hair cropped neatly in a schoolboy haircut.
“Is there something I can help ya with?” His words spurted out in staccato-like rhythm. He probably grew up close by—Brooklyn or New Jersey, maybe.
“Your cookies were burning,” she explained flatly.
The man turned to the stove and gasped. “Aww, man! Would ya look at this mess! Why, oh why did I take time to answer that call?”
For several seconds, he continued mumbling to himself and poking at the blackened cookies, Natalie’s presence all but forgotten. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” she interjected, “I think I’ll be going now.”
She turned on her heel and navigated back toward the front door.
“Hey, hold it a minute. How’d ya know my cookies were burning?”
She faced him again to see his brow furrowed in confusion. Was the man really that oblivious? She gestured around the still smoke-filled kitchen. “The smoke! I could see and smell it all the way down the hallway. I thought the apartment was on fire!”
His eyes widened even more. “You thought the apartment was … Oh, geez. Was there a fire?”
“There was, actually. A little one on the stove, but I put it out before I got the cookies out of the oven.”
“Gee, that was awfully good of you. A lot of people wouldn’t have even noticed.”
He wiped his hand off and stuck it out to her.
She hesitated a second, then walked over and accepted it. He closed his large fingers around her hand in a firm yet gentle grip that seemed to emanate warmth. Looking straight into her eyes, he smiled. “Thank you.”
Never in her life had she met anyone who actually had a twinkle in his eye; it always sounded like something made-up. But this man’s large brown eyes actually twinkled when he grinned, making his whole face seem youthful and alive.
He pumped her hand up and down. “Seriously. Thanks very much, Ms. …”
“Rivers. My name is Natalie Rivers.”
His smile broadened. “Nice to meet ya. I’m Glenn Valenti.”
After a minute, she flexed her fingers, and his eyes darted down to their joined hands. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled away but continued smiling. “I really am grateful.”
“Don’t mention it. But while we’re still on the subject, do you mind my asking what this is all for?” She swept her arm over the cluttered countertops.
“Ha. It’s a long story. My church recently started sponsoring a group of youth from poor—well, from economically disadvantaged areas in the city. So far, it’s been a bunch of random things: school supply shopping, field trips, ya know. They come by here for pizza every other week, too. But next week, we’re going to take them on a two-week camp retreat, and I thought they might like some cookies for the road. It seemed better to make them instead of buying them.”
Natalie frowned. “Better how? You mean because they’re poor kids, it doesn’t matter if you give them subpar cookies?”
His face fell. “No. It’s not that. It’s just ... some of these kids don’t have much of a home life. Ya know how it is: single parents, working parents, and all that. And nobody has the time to bake something just for them.”
Her jaw went slack at his words. But before she could even start to formulate a response, he distracted her by hanging his head and sinking onto the kitchen barstool. “I guess it was stupid, especially when I didn’t know what I was doing.”
His forlorn reaction tore at her heart unexpectedly. “Hey, don’t say that. I shouldn’t have criticized; it’s really a great idea. In fact, what if I help you remake the batch?”
His head shot up, and he slid to his feet. “Really? Are you a baker?”
“No, I’m an actor, but I know how to make cookies without killing anyone.”
He blinked for a second then threw his head back and roared with laughter. “That’s great!”
His mirth was cut short by a rap on the door, which was still ajar. An irate-looking man in his sixties stood in the doorway and pointed at Glenn. “This is the last straw! The entire hallway filled up with smoke! And how did you keep from setting off the smoke alarm? You didn’t disable yours, did you?”
Glenn’s posture drooped once again, and he trudged over to the angry man. “I’m sorry about all this, Tyson. I don’t know what to tell ya except I was being an idiot and got it in my head that I was going to make cookies for the kids. Obviously, I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean to disrupt anything or cause any harm.”
By now, Glenn had the look of a schoolkid who always got picked last in the PE baseball game.
Tyson nervously shifted from foot to foot. “Well—well, don’t take it to heart, but please, please … try to be more careful next time. We don’t need the fire department called out.”
He started toward the door. “And don’t worry about the others on the floor. If anybody complains, I’ll deal with them, okay?”
Glenn suddenly straightened and moved to clap the man on the shoulder. “Aw, that’s very decent, Tyson. You’ve got to be the most patient superintendent I’ve ever dealt with. That’s why I love living here. You really care about the residents.”
Tyson’s face reddened at the praise. “Yeah, well I try,” he mumbled. “I’ll see you around.” With that, he hurried from the room.
Glenn waved at the man’s retreating figure, then turned to face Natalie.
She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her sleeve. “Well, well. That was quite the performance!”
His head jolted back. “Whaddya mean?”
She explained, “Ever since yesterday afternoon, when I looked out my door to see you and those kids parade by, I wondered how you kept from getting a dozen complaints from the other residents. And I especially wondered when you said this happens every other week. But now I get it! If anyone complains, you do your hangdog routine like you just did, and they feel so bad that they back off. Shoot! You even fooled me with it the first time.�
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She probably sounded snarky to him, but she was genuinely impressed. Nine times out of ten, the old saying held true: You can’t con a con. Clearly, Glenn Valenti was the exception.
He frowned as he seemed to ponder her words, but then, that twinkle sparked to life in his eyes again. Abruptly, he tossed up his hands. “Okay. Okay. Ya got me! I have to say, Ms. Rivers, I admire your perspicacity.”
Natalie raised an eyebrow at him. That was a new one.
He sat down. “I may guilt-trip the neighbors into letting me have the kids here now and then. Is that so wrong?”
“I’m hardly one to judge,” she replied.
He gestured around the room. “Look at this place! Anybody that lives in this building is doing okay, just like me. It may not be Fifth Avenue, but people here are a bunch of fat cats compared to most of the world. It’s not gonna kill anybody to put up with a little noise every two weeks so some kids that really need a break can have a place to hang out besides the street. Now is it?”
The warmth that had briefly wrapped around her when they first shook hands returned. “No, I suppose not,” she murmured.
The front door squeaked open wide. “And that’s exactly the attitude that helped him convince the executive leadership of his company to take a pay cut two years ago. Good thing, too. It helped the bottom line and boosted the company image.”
This time, Natalie wasn’t startled by the interruption; she was coming to expect it, really. Glancing up, she saw the woman in the Chanel suit from the day before.
“Darla! How are ya?” Glenn greeted her with a kiss to the cheek.
“Did you know your door was open?” she asked, returning his gesture with an air kiss.
“Yeah, it’s been a hectic afternoon,” he explained.
“So I see.” Darla’s amber eyes focused on Natalie, and she extended her hand. “Darla Mayhew.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I should have made the introductions,” Glenn exclaimed.
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