by Jane Drager
All these incidents paled because of Deems. He’d become the good luck charm she desperately needed. He’d broken the pattern of bleakness surrounding her life, and thinking of him forced her to step toward the door, head high, and press the doorbell.
The door flew open before the chimes faded.
Carol Stewart looked a trifle flustered with a few golden strands dangling from her perfectly sculpted hair.
“Lauren, dear, you’re here. Put your luggage anywhere and come into the kitchen. We don’t have much time.” She waved as she hurried toward the kitchen counter.
Stepping in, Lauren placed her suitcase and backpack by the sofa and followed where Carol, like a whirlwind, picked up a coaster, put it down, grabbed a flowerpot, and then put that down until zeroing in on a sheet of paper. The kitchen, enormous in size, sparkled from stainless steel appliances and polished marble countertops. A curved counter with six stools separated the food prep area from the living room.
Carol thrust the sheet of paper into Lauren’s hand. “Here is the watering schedule for my babies. I’ve written out everything and labeled all the containers. The plant food is in the sunroom.” She waved in the direction of an open archway.
“This other list—” She thrust a second piece of paper in Lauren’s hand. “These are emergency numbers—the main desk in the lobby, and our cell numbers. We’ve already stopped mail delivery so Bill arranged for your check to go to Deems.” She touched Lauren’s arm. “I hope that’s okay, dear. We didn’t know what else to do on such short notice, but I’m sure Deems will drop off the check.” She tapped the paper in Lauren’s hand. “The phone number on the bottom is our accountant. If you want, you can make other arrangements.”
“Deems is fine.”
Bill Stewart approached while throwing on a blue sport jacket. He reached into his pants pocket and extracted his wallet. “We’re not leaving much food in the refrigerator. Here’s a couple hundred for shopping.” He fished out the bills.
At the flow of green, Lauren’s eyes widened. He withdrew more money than her monthly unemployment check. “I don’t need that much!”
“Take it anyway.” He shoved the bills in her hand then extracted two keys from his shirt pocket. “Here’s the key to the elevator and the key to the front door. Don’t give them to anyone.”
“Yes, sir.” She took the keys.
He wagged a finger in her face. “No wild parties. No drugs. I’m going on Deems’ word about your reliability. If you entertain the opposite sex, make sure he’s as trustworthy as Deems.”
Carol patted her husband’s arm. “She may prefer her own sex, dear.”
With one eye closed, he scrutinized Lauren. “All right, make sure she is as trustworthy as Deems. The spare bedroom—that’s the third door toward the end of the hall—is yours. Make yourself comfortable.” His cell phone rang. He hurriedly answered. “Good. We’re coming.” He disconnected. “Car’s here, honey. Let’s hit the road.” He turned to Lauren with fingers poised over his phone. “Give me your cell number, young lady, just in case I need to call.”
Lauren relayed the number.
He punched quickly on his keypad.
“I’ll take good care of the place, Mr. Stewart.”
Carol grabbed her purse, jacket, and straw sunhat. “I know you will, dear. We have Deems’ assurances, and because of him, I’m leaving with a light heart. Try not to call unless you’ve a real emergency, you know, like the building’s on fire.”
Lauren laughed. “Have a good time.”
While throwing open the front door, Bill gestured for Carol to hurry.
Lauren stood outside in the hall and waved as the elevator doors closed on their happy faces. Wow. A lightning bolt introduction to the world of the wealthy. I’m spending a month in luxury and getting paid for the privilege. Who woulda believed? Lauren chuckled, closed the door, and collapsed against the wood frame to catch her breath. After a few minutes to allow the quiet to settle her nerves, she let her gaze wander over the interior.
Her original assessment of a condo with a forest hit dead-on. Miniature palm trees, rubber plants, cactus, several African violets, and ferns. The list was endless. And in the kitchen along the counter stood an array of herb pots. She pushed away from the door and meandered toward the kitchen.
The herbs she recognized since her mother grew a variety of her own. A large aloe plant stood on a corner stand near the end of the counter. The plant underneath on the small shelf…no clue. And the plant alongside? Stretching across the counter, Lauren grabbed the list to compare names and labels. Okay, this system will work. First item of importance, find the plant food.
The sunroom was situated off the dining room in a large alcove with tables and chairs surrounded by foliage. An array of windows showed a city view—large buildings intermingling with small. A church steeple, covered with copper sheeting, sparkled in the early sunset, its distance perhaps five or six blocks away. Between the steeple and the condo was a rooftop with a raised-bed garden with two people, a man and a woman, working hoes through the dirt.
Shelving, along the front and both sides of the sitting area, contained more than two dozen flowering plants, crowding the sunroom and creating a closed-in feeling. Several flowers were in bloom—daisies, tulips, gardenias, and one over-sized miniature tea rose bush in the far corner. She sniffed the tiny red rose and, surprisingly, no scent.
Against the wall in the other corner, two tall, wooden cabinets stood. She opened one door then the next to see an array of plant food and marveled at how so many plants had their own special blend. Her mother simply fed them water and only occasionally threw on some horse manure.
Using the time to reflect on her good luck, she leaned against the window frame and stared at the sunset on the church steeple. Her parents’ house of worship floated into her mind and how the committee had willingly given her a loan. The parishioners worked so hard to raise the money for the expansion project, and yet, they agreed on a delay so Lauren Howell could go to New York. Without their generosity, she wouldn’t be here.
Oh, how I miss Arendtsville—the greens instead of concrete gray with the air crisp and clear instead of full of car exhaust. In another month and a half, she’d be living over her parents’ garage, scanning the want ads, mailing out résumés, and putting her life together again. Summer would be in full tourist swing, and many of the Gettysburg restaurants needed extra food servers. To accumulate cash, she’d try for two jobs, and if her luck held, she’d have a teaching position by fall. Whether college, high school, or grade school, art had no age limit. Even if her job search took her halfway across the state, she’d always return home on weekends to help with the fall harvest.
This peaceful, contented feeling filled her eyes with moisture, and Deems floated into her thoughts. He’d made life bearable again, and for the first time, doubts surfaced about their friendship agreement. Every time her gaze drifted to his lips, she imagined the softness brushing feather kisses along her skin. When he’d held her at the rooming house, he squeezed her to his chest, and her fingers itched to slip inside his shirt. She’d grown accustomed to his smile and his relaxed state of mind. Nothing fazed him. He was a man secure with his place in society.
Could she learn to tolerate New York? She’d be so far away from home, and the sights, smells, and sounds of the country were in her blood. How long before she yearned to walk among the hills and valleys? Deems, being city-bred, would never understand the driving force of working with nature. Short term in New York? Possibly. But full time? Unlikely.
So, she reverted to her original conclusion. A relationship with Deems would never work and shame on her to think otherwise. Case closed.
Meaningless words when her heart ached to see him again. This indecision will never do. She whirled from the window and headed for the living room, turning on whatever light she passed. The brightness of all the white furniture forced her to squint, but the green foliage helped lessen the glow.
; Three separate sections divided the main living area. The center, near a large picture window with the same view of the church steeple, contained the long, white sofa with two matching chairs. On the right, two tan recliners sat beneath a large-screen television positioned on the wall. To the left were the kitchen and formal dining area with a rich mahogany dining table and eight chairs along with matching china cabinet. In the kitchen, a white phone hung on the wall above a two-seater table, which Carol had quickly explained connected directly to the security desk.
Off the kitchen, a long hallway led to the bedrooms. Lauren grabbed her suitcase and backpack and headed for her room, passing a huge master bedroom, an enormous bathroom, a smaller bedroom, an office with computer, and finally, the end bedroom where she threw her luggage on the mattress. While running her fingers across the soft comforter, she looked around.
Compared to her last residence, the room was a palace. Neutral colors of gray and white, a walnut dresser with mirror, and small-screen TV on the wall gave the appearance of a first class hotel. She fought back tears at the Stewarts’ generosity. Her thousand dollars a week plus working her butt off would help repay her loans in no time, hopefully by the end of December. Then, she’d start the new year with a clean slate. After Jo-Jo and Eric, she had doubts about trusting men, but Deems proved good men still existed. He’d done so much for her in such a short time and all without asking anything in return. Because he cared. Or felt sorry for her. She wasn’t sure which. Either way, he made her feel safe. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she returned to the kitchen.
An inventory of food staples was next, starting with the refrigerator. As expected, no perishables, not even ice cubes in the freezer. No coffee in the cabinets, only tea bags, a few cans of soup, flour and sugar in bins, salt and pepper. The basics. A bit of shopping was necessary. Since she had her ID, money, phone, and condo keys on her and hadn’t removed her jacket, she headed for the lobby.
Robert stood behind the security counter, talking to another man wearing the same blue-and-black uniform. Robert was an older man, perhaps in his fifties, in great shape with strong arms and wide chest. The other man was in his thirties, tall and trim, but without the muscles to fill his shirt. Both wore guns on their hip. They turned and smiled.
“This is Johnny, your night-shift guard.” Robert slapped the younger man on the back. “Johnny, meet Lauren Howell. She’s staying in the Stewarts’ place while they’re away.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me, I need to do a security round so Robert can leave.” He disappeared into the elevator.
Lauren turned to Robert, a brow raised. “Security round?”
Smiling, he nodded toward the computer screens. “Security cameras can only do so much, so we do a visual inspection of every floor from the penthouse down via the stairwell. Fire regulations prevent us from locking the doors to the stairs, but each door has a motion-activated sensor that lights up our board. Here, take a look.” He gestured for her to come around the desk. “Johnny’s already on the fifteenth floor and will climb the single flight to the penthouse then walk his way down.”
The videos were crystal clear and in color. When Johnny arrived at the stairwell door marked with a big P, he jerked on the handle.
Robert nodded at the screen. “The fire escape access to the penthouse is always locked because opening the door puts someone directly into the resident’s living room. There’s no hallway like the other floors.” He pointed to a video square. “Johnny will use the stairs and stop on every floor for inspection. We follow this procedure on each shift change.”
“Who lives in the penthouse?”
Wagging a finger, Robert gave her a polite smile. “Sorry, ma’am. We can’t disclose who lives in our building. Company rules.” His gaze twinkled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How’s it feel to live like the wealthy?”
Sighing, she placed a hand over her heart. “Ask me another time. I’m still in shock.” She cocked her head toward the entrance doors. “I suppose we’re standing in one of those costly high-rises I’ve read about?”
Smiling, Robert tugged on his ear. “Oh, yeah. We’re not the most expensive building in the city, but to give you an idea, the fourth floor condos sell for ten mil apiece. The higher you go, the more expensive. The penthouse goes for twenty-one mil.”
The numbers were mind-boggling. Her mouth lifted to one side. “The Stewarts trusted me that quick?”
“Well—” He tugged on his ear. “Mr. Lambert had something to do with their decision.” He glanced at the monitors. “Johnny’s almost done. He’ll check the hall behind me and then the alley. Everything must follow company code. Any questions?”
“Just one. Where can I do some quick grocery shopping?”
He checked his watch. “At this time of the evening, your best bet is a mom-and-pop store on Eighty-Second Street, two blocks off Fifth Avenue. Some of the bigger stores deliver since most of the residents in this building won’t know the inside of a supermarket if they fell through the roof. Shall I call you a cab?” He reached for the desk phone.
New York cabs cost a heap of money, and she’d rather spend her stash on food. Besides, with just a three to four block walk, she’d be back before Eric or the Hispanic found her. She smiled at Robert. “No, I’ll walk. I won’t buy much tonight.”
He held up a finger. “Before you leave, miss, you should know the main doors lock promptly at nine every night and stay locked until seven in the morning. A buzzer by the door alerts the guard on duty.”
Security plus. Impressive. She might have the best night’s sleep since leaving Jan’s.
After thanking Robert, she passed through the double doors, stepped onto the sidewalk, and promptly collided into Deems.
Chapter Fourteen
Lauren’s breath hitched as two strong hands gripped her arms, causing all thoughts to disappear. On the surface, Deems hadn’t the appearance of a muscular man, but she stared with a new appraisal, sucking in the scent of his musk aftershave while locking her knees to prevent an inadvertent slide to the sidewalk. In a flash, she conjured images of the physique beneath the business suit with his slim build transforming into a muscle-bound champion of justice. That vision accelerated her heart rate. Deems Lambert was her hero, because he always appeared when she least expected. The vision burst into a puff of smoke as a car horn blared her into reality.
His light brown eyes glowed. “Sorry about that.”
In the twilight, his iris had the color of honey. Funny how she hadn’t noticed until now. And he had cute ears, too. What more would she uncover as she leaned toward dissolving their ‘only friends’ arrangement?
He dropped his hands but not without a gentle caress along her arms. His touch caused an erotic shiver straight to her core. Since she wore a short-sleeve T-shirt under her jacket, she almost wished she’d left the jacket upstairs. “I’m equally at fault.”
Oh, God, help me. Her mouth had gone bone dry, and her heart thumped so hard, she swore he’d hear. Resisting the urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, she fussed with her jacket sleeves. Deems unknowingly excited all the right buttons. Dare she tell him? Or worse, show him how his touch affected her?
She really should be sensible about her feelings. Deems might as well be from another planet. They had disparities wider than the Grand Canyon and definitely too numerous to list. If he would only stop gazing with eyes as beautiful as a honeycomb. Smiling, Lauren stretched to kiss his cheek. “Hi.”
His gaze brightened. “Hi, yourself. What’s the kiss for?”
“A friendly kiss. For looking out for me. I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“That’s what friends are for.” He stepped back. “Bill called and told me you looked a little overwhelmed.”
Since they stood in the middle of the sidewalk with people walking around them, she urged him to move toward the building. “Stunned is the word, Deems. I’m a farmer’s daughter, and a woman used to
barns and tractors and not all this opulence.” Was she crazy to fight the desire building inside? She’d believed Jo-Jo was the perfect man and look what an idiot he’d made her. What if Deems agreed to a short-term affair? No commitments. No strings. Hmm.
He looked around. “Where are you heading?”
Thankfully, his voice broke her train of thought. “I need food. Robert told me of a place on Eighty-Second Street. Want to come?”
“I’d like that.”
She slipped her right arm through his left and allowed herself the luxury of a companion. No one could possibly mistake them for being on a date. She wore blue jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, and Deems, as usual, had on his impeccably-tailored suit with silk shirt and tie. He wore a diamond-studded gold watch on his left wrist, which glistened under the street lights, and a ruby-adorned pinkie ring on his left hand. And here she wore a common variety watch and her gold ring from graduate school. As different as night and day. “Where are the Stewarts going?”
“A month-long cruise. Caribbean. Panama Canal. Mexico. California. They’re flying home from Oregon.”
She smirked. “Must be nice to have money. My parents barely scraped by with the fluctuation in apple prices from year to year. That’s why they encouraged me to go to college.”
He glanced her way. “But your brother will suffer the same fate.”
“Oh, he knows, but he’s also a good machinist and one of the best tractor mechanics in the county. He’s in high demand.” She met his gaze. “Even if he sells the orchards, he’ll still make a decent living.”
At an intersection, they stopped for a red street light. When the light changed to green, and they crossed with the crowd, he nudged her arm. “Bill’s computer is password protected, and he asked if I had a laptop to loan you. If you’re interested, you can connect to his Wi-Fi.”