by Camryn Eyde
It was her own fault. She ignored the danger signs, and let intoxication give her a taste of Tara. She was a goner after that. An infatuated fool that took whatever Tara could give, and believed every damn word the woman said before she left for the Bahamas. Months of an enriching friendship that looked like building into more had ended with a gloating ex-wife.
The sob she stifled as she locked herself in her own apartment was all the grieving she would do for the woman upstairs. She swiped tears from her cheeks. No more crying, she told herself. Spying the rose she almost took upstairs to accompany the bottle of wine Zoe took from her was the crack that broke the dam. Breaking into fitful sobs, Ricci holed up in her room to despair the loss of hope she, for one brief moment, let reign free in her heart.
That night, Tara texted her. She ignored it, and the phone calls that followed. Ignoring the knocking at the door was harder, and more than once over the next week, she nearly turned the handle to let Tara in. Ricci knew only one way out of the mess: she needed to be somewhere else.
“So…here’s the warehouse.” The agent grimaced at it as he shivered. “Such an eyesore. I can’t wait to see it torn down.”
“Torn down?” Ricci looked from the historic building to the estate agent. “Why should it be torn down?”
The agent baulked. “Ah…” He gestured to the narrow red brick building. “Are you not looking at that? It’s a wreck. You’re a property developer…right?” The man still sounded unconvinced at her role. “Can’t you see the investment here? The condominiums you could put in and the money you’d earn. Hollywood celebrities live around here…sort of.”
Ricci looked at the man. “Give the owner an offer.”
The agent grinned.
“Two hundred.”
His grinned faltered. “What?”
“Final offer.”
The man scoffed at her. “Look, lady, they aren’t going to go for that. You’re insane.”
“Maybe so. Offer it anyway. The least they can say is no.”
The man shook his head. “Crazy,” he said as he mumbled his way back to his Corvette.
Three days later, Ricci signed the paperwork for her new project in Midtown East. A run-down ex-industrial building semi-converted into office and residential space. It was ill-maintained, worn, and desperate. It was perfect, and for the final price of two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars, it was also a bargain to her mind.
Surrounded by commercial buildings, the space lent itself to trendy lofts and studios with easy access to Grand Central Station.
“So…this is the new Parkland Apartments?” Howie asked her as she stood beside him and Lawrence as winter turned bitter before it drew to a close. She had spent the past month designing the interior with architects, and sourcing materials across the state and the country. She was going to upcycle this place.
“Yeah. I’m calling it Haven.”
“It’s ugly as sin.”
Ricci chuckled. “Yes. It is.”
“And you want us to work with old crap?”
“Recycled materials, yes.”
Howie pursed his lips and looked at Lawrence. The pair had started a partnership since she had seen them last. Bessler and Wright Plumbing. Their skills ran far deeper than faucets and showerheads, as Ricci was keenly aware. Lawrence’s eye for building was keen, and Howie was meticulous at finishing.
“And you want us to…what? Invest?” Lawrence said, glancing down at Ricci.
Ricci nodded. Her bank account didn’t stretch as far as being able to pay for materials and the labor. “I need help. I want the three of us to be joint investors.”
Howie and Lawrence’s jaws dropped open. “Pardon?”
“I want to give you a third of the property to share between you. In return, I need labor…free labor.”
The men looked at one another then back at the building. “That’s asking a lot, baby doll,” Lawrence said.
“I know.”
“I have needs. Expensive needs,” Howie added after a long silence.
Lawrence scoffed at Howie. “What’s your timetable?”
“I’m hoping to get a display loft done in four to six weeks, and start selling off the other warehouse conversions from then. Completion at the end of May.”
Howie burst into laughter. “Three months? You want the whole building done in three months? Babe, you have main structure walls to install, plus an entire floor, let alone getting your little fancy lofts done.”
“I know.”
Howie stared at her for a heartbeat. “She knows,” he said to Lawrence before staring at the building again. “Christ. Show me the plans again.”
So she did. Ricci ran them through the installation of a walls and a new floor level to provide eight loft apartments. Six smaller ones at the front, and two large ones at the back. Three months, and no guarantee of payment until May at the earliest.
“You’re crazy,” Howie said, lighting up a cigarette.
“So I’ve been told.”
“I’m in.”
Grinning, she encompassed the men in a hug as Lawrence followed suit. “You guys are the best. Ah!” Ricci jumped back. “No kissing, Howie!”
The man gave her a wink.
Ugh.
Chapter Fifteen
Fixing What is Broken
Ricci’s cleaner, Valerie returned from maternity leave. Valerie, a lovely, tiny native New Yorker came back into her life like a blessing in mid-January. She worked hard, and had the Parkland Apartments building shining to a level Ricci was never able to achieve. Even Mrs. Dellaroy had praised her work and said she’d missed the quiet woman. The soft knock at her door had Ricci picking up the pay check for Valerie on the way to answering her door. Like clockwork, the woman knocked softly every Friday afternoon. Opening the door, Ricci found someone unexpected on the other side.
“Tara?”
“Hi.” She gave a shy smile. “You’re home.”
Ricci frowned. “I usually am.”
“Not lately.”
Tara was right. She’d been all over the city scouring for materials for her new venture for weeks now. “I’ve been busy.”
“Apparently so. Happy New Year.” Tara leaned in and kissed her cheek, temporarily stealing Ricci’s oxygen supply.
Ricci blinked. “It’s just gone February.”
“And you’ve been noticeably absent.”
“I didn’t really want to get in your way.”
It was Tara’s turn to frown. “Excuse me?”
Valerie rounded the privacy wall separating Ricci’s apartment from the lobby and halted. “Oh.”
“Hi, Val.” Ricci held out the paycheck. “See you next week.” The woman smiled and left as quickly as she arrived.
“May I come in?” Tara asked.
“Haven’t you got someone else you should be spending time with?”
“Someone else?”
“Zoe perhaps.”
“Zoe?”
Ricci dropped all pretense of politeness. “She told me about your holiday together.”
“What? Who? Zoe did?”
“She was there, in your apartment, when you got back. I came up and it didn’t take me long to realize I was intruding.”
“What?” Tara looked shocked, then instantly concerned.
Ricci pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I get it, you know. I’ve seen it a thousand times. You break up, get back together, and so on. I’m happy for you. I hope you and Zoe sort things out.” Ricci started swinging the door shut. “I’m sorry, I’ve got a lot on tonight.”
“Stop.” Tara stuck a foot in the door, jeopardizing shoes worth hundreds of dollars. “This is why you’re avoiding me?” Ricci didn’t answer and looked away. “I’m not reconciling with Zoe. Whatever she’s told you is untrue.”
“Either way, I don’t have time for this.”
“For what? Our friendship?” Ricci didn’t answer fast enough for Tara, and after a huff, she pushed her way inside. “I’m
not having this conversation through an open door.” She strode into the kitchen and fetched two glasses from the cupboards. Filling them from the bottle in hand, she thrust one at Ricci. Brushing her blonde hair back from her face, she said, “Start talking.”
“About?”
“For starters, where have you been? I’ve tried to see you several times, and have left a multitude of messages on your phone. Even Alicia doesn’t know where you’ve disappeared to.” The face Tara made advertised her reluctance to have asked one of her staff about Ricci.
Ricci shrugged. “I’ve been around.”
Tara scoffed. “Fine. Play it however you want.” She took a swig of wine. “But I trusted you. I trusted this.” She indicated between them. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to do that?”
Ricci bit her lip. She understood.
“I spent my entire vacation looking forward to seeing you again, and what happens when I return? You disappear. You won’t answer your phone. You don’t answer your door. You left me.” Tara pursed her lips together. “If there’s anything I know about, then it’s how to deal with being left out on my own.”
Ricci’s eyes widened and she forgot how to breathe. “No,” she said on a gasp. “That’s not—”
Tara bumped into her on the way out. Ricci cursed herself and realized what she had done was what everyone Tara cared for had done—abandoned her. Idiot!
Ricci rushed to the elevator and found it was already closed. With a deep breath, she entered the stair well and ran all the way to the top floor. Bursting out of the stairwell, she saw Tara at her door. Falling to her knees, she tried to catch her breath as a startled Tara looked on. “I’m…sorry…I thought…I’d…lost you. I didn’t…realize. I’m not leaving you.”
Tara sniffed. It sounded like she’d been crying. She entered her apartment, leaving Ricci ruing her stupid self. Noticing the door was left ajar, she picked herself up off the floor and let herself in.
“When did you see Zoe?” Tara asked all formal and business-like.
“The day you got back from vacation. She answered the door.”
Tara frowned and looked at her door.
“She was wearing a towel.”
Tara cocked her head. “A towel?”
Ricci rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath that turned into a yawn she unsuccessfully tried to suppress. She felt a low thump start in her temples.
“You’re exhausted,” Tara said as she reopened her eyes.
Ricci blew out a breath of air. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly.” Tara pursed her lips. “What did Zoe say, why are you avoiding me, and why do you look like death warmed over?”
Grinding her teeth for a moment, Ricci dived in figuring the sooner this was over with the better. “She said you’d sorted it out between you. I’m not avoiding you, and I’ve been busy.”
“Try again.”
Ricci deflated. “What do you want to hear, exactly?”
Tara stared at her for a moment before stepping an inch closer. “Let me make something clear to you first. Zoe lied to you. She was there because I finally convinced her to sign the divorce papers. Which she did. I was asleep, I believe, when you came up to visit. I barricaded myself in my room after she asked to sign the papers at my apartment. Apparently she took liberties with my shower. She wasn’t there when I woke. It was a trying vacation, and I didn’t expect Zoe to be there. What I want to hear, is the truth from you. I know you’ve been evading me and I don’t understand why. I thought…” Tara took a breath. “I thought we had come to an agreement before I left.”
Ricci’s eyebrows rose. “An agreement? What? You mean to screw each other just because we can.”
Tara’s nose crinkled with disgust.
Ricci huffed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Their conversation that day, and the road it took to get there didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect. “It doesn’t matter about Zoe, but it’s just not something I can do anymore. I can’t.”
“Oh?” Tara lifted her chin and tried to look disinterested. “Why not?”
Ricci ignored the question. “I’m busy because I have a new investment property.” She quickly added, “Tell my mother that and I may consider kicking you out.”
Tara gave her a droll look. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Fine, I’ll raise the rent.”
Again, Tara gave her a look of disbelief. “What new investment property?”
Ricci straightened. “Nothing. Just an old industrial building.”
“You’re renovating it?”
“No, I’m upgrading.”
Tara raised an eyebrow at her. “Funny, that sounds like a synonym of renovate.”
“I’m upcycling…in a way.”
“Pray, what is upcycling?”
“Using old unwanted materials to make something new.”
Tara straightened and considered Ricci for a while. “You’re not unwanted.”
Ricci’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help a burst of nervous laughter. “I’m sorry?”
“You like to fix things, and now you’re trying to mend materials someone threw away. Sorry, but that’s a flashing neon metaphor if I’ve ever seen one.”
Ricci shuffled her feet and scowled at the floor. She was right, and that had Ricci’s mind reeling.
Tara continued. “It’s curious, but I found myself missing your company these past weeks.”
Ricci cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to abandon you.”
Tara gasped in surprise. “That’s not—”
“Zoe…she was very convincing. It didn’t want to intrude.”
“And now you want nothing to do with me?”
Ricci wanted to say no. “I…” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. Tara was too risky. She already had the power to destroy her. “I…” She exhaled again. “Want to see the warehouse?”
Tara’s eyes held hers for a moment as if considering whether to continue probing or go with Ricci’s change of topic…again. “Where is it?”
“Midtown East.”
“Which is?”
“Come on,” Ricci said, snatching her keys and walking over to the coat rack. “I’ll show you.”
“It’s—” Tara tripped.
“Watch it,” Ricci said, helping to right the woman.
Tara scowled at the lump of metal that had tripped her. “It’s delightful.” Sarcasm dripped like treacle from her words.
“It used to be a mechanic workshop, then a tool shop, and it closed up shop a few years back as a car restoration joint.”
“And none of that explains that.” Tara pointed to a mirror ball hanging high above them.
“It may have been some grungy night club at some point.”
“Hmm.”
Ricci spread her arms out wide two thirds of the way into the building. “This, is going to be six loft apartments. One bedroom functional spaces designed for ease of access to the heart of the city, whilst providing secluded respite in a stylized setting.”
Tara’s lip quirked up at the marketing spiel. “Meaning a small quiet space built with reused materials.”
“Exactly. Behind me, there’ll be two floor to ceiling apartments. The penthouses of the Haven so to speak.”
“What’s your intended demographic?”
“Single workers, or couples without kids. Mid-range earners.”
“What are you selling each apartment for?”
Ricci cocked her head. “Why? Do you want to buy one?”
Tara, initially startled by the question, looked quickly contemplative. “How big will they be?”
“Six hundred square feet. Living, dining, and bathroom downstairs, with a mezzanine bedroom and closet space upstairs. The ones at the back, around a thousand square feet with a separate floor for the bedroom, and a mezzanine study.”
“Sounds cozy.”
“That’s the point. Out the back, there’s a private courtyard, and for the
lofts at the back, a private balcony. Prices start from four-hundred.”
Tara began to walk around the large empty space. “That expensive?”
Ricci shrugged at her back. As Tara walked around, Ricci re-familiarized herself with the woman’s shape. She looked impossibly slimmer. In the muted light of the winter’s sunset, she was almost radiant. A curious offset to the dusty, dirty room. “You look good,” Ricci said before her brain engaged with her vocal cords.
Tara jerked to a stop and looked over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said after a pause. “You don’t.”
Ricci laughed for a moment in shock. “Gee. Thanks.”
Tara walked back to her. “You look tired.”
“So you said.”
Tara studied her for such a length of time that had Ricci averting her eyes and shuffling. She felt exposed and guilty. “I’m sorry. About Zoe, I mean. I didn’t know she’d…I thought you were avoiding me because you changed your mind.”
“I have.”
“So you said,” Tara said, echoing her words back at her. Both women smiled. “I’ll take one.”
Ricci’s smile fell away. “What?”
“A loft. I want the best one.”
“You…do?” Ricci blinked. Tara was going to move out?
“I lost my house to Zoe. The only way she would settle, was to have the condo.” Tara took a deep breath. “I need to start again.”
Nodding, Ricci said, “It’s further from your work. This place.”
“I suppose it is.” Tara shrugged the fact away. “Do I get some say about the final look?”
“Yes.”
“Then I look forward to working with you.”