by Leigh Riker
“Sorry, people. Apartment’s taken.”
Disgruntled comments rose into the afternoon air.
“But I’ve been waiting….”
“I called….”
A man in a Burberry trench coat swore under his breath.
A blond princess type in designer jeans and a leather jacket, wearing high-heeled skintight boots, stalked off looking furious.
A young couple, disappointed like Darcie, shuffled off down the street.
When the crowd dispersed, the agent disappeared, and Claire looked at Darcie who said, “This calls for a late lunch at Phantasmagoria. My treat.”
“I can’t, Darce. Peter wants to have dinner out tonight….”
“Then I’m your baby-sitter.”
She and Samantha could read the want ads together. Like there was a reasonable apartment in New York with her name on it.
“Thanks,” Clare said, “but we already have a sitter.”
They were halfway to their favorite restaurant when Darcie pulled up short. Claire ran into her heels with the Perego stroller but Darcie didn’t even yelp. She was used to Sweet Baby Jane.
“Claire,” she said, pointing at a sign in a window.
The brownstone, two blocks farther east, didn’t look as upscale as the false lead they’d just followed closer to Fifth Avenue, but Darcie stopped to stare. The building seemed decent. No garbage littered the scrap of iron-fenced concrete “yard” where a small wrought-iron table and two chairs held a flourishing green pothos plant. The windows on the basement and upper levels sparkled in the sunlight.
For Rent, the sign proclaimed.
Claire touched her arm. “Let’s take a look.”
An elderly woman answered the doorbell. So promptly, Darcie thought, that she might have been looking out the front window.
She led Darcie, Claire and Samantha—in Darcie’s arms—into a first-floor apartment. Darcie lifted her eyebrows at the cleanliness of the living room, the light that flooded every corner.
“I’m giving up the apartment,” the woman explained. “It’s too much for me here in the city now. The noise, the traffic…my daughter convinced me to take a room in her house—and I admit, giving up this responsibility is welcome.”
“You have a lovely place here.”
“Yes, until my husband died. Now it’s not quite home.” Mrs. Lang studied Darcie who was carrying Samantha. “Are you married?”
“No.”
Pity, the woman’s expression said. “Let me show you the rest.”
By the time they came full circle from the cute kitchen—it even had a small window—and the two bedrooms, the one bath, Darcie was in love. Forget men. She’d just stay here, figuring out her life, getting her work done at Wunderthings, climbing the ladder, enjoying her own space until she too needed to move in with…well, she wouldn’t have a daughter, but one day Annie might. Or Darcie would be like Gran, who just kept going, even have boyfriends in her eighties…
That was, assuming a Mr. Near-Right even existed.
“If you don’t have offers already, I’ll take the apartment.”
She liked its location, its layout, its space and light and ten-foot ceilings. Of course she’d repaint, but she spoke too soon.
Mrs. Lang named her price. And Darcie felt her spirits tumble down a hole.
When she and Claire stepped out again, in shared misery, onto the street, Claire’s pricey stroller was missing.
Perfect.
Darcie couldn’t afford this apartment. And now she owed Claire a carriage.
“Claire wouldn’t hear of it,” Darcie told her mother on the phone that night. “Peter says their homeowners’ insurance should cover the theft. But I still feel bad.”
“The city is no place for a young family. No place for you,” Janet Baxter insisted, making Darcie fervently wish she hadn’t mentioned the subject. “Your father and I are willing to fly you home.”
“I’d rather discuss a loan.”
This being Darcie’s original reason for calling, she held her breath. She liked to believe she was an independent woman. She had left a deposit on the brownstone apartment and she hated asking her parents for money, but this was an emergency.
Janet didn’t seem as enthralled by Darcie’s “find.”
“Two bedrooms—miniscule, I’m sure, compared to what we have here—one bath. One bath, Darcie?”
“There’s only one of me.”
Her mother hesitated. “There can’t be an adequate kitchen.”
“The Langs lived there for forty years. They had plenty of time to furnish the place. In fact, Mrs. L wants to sell me the living room set, some end tables, outdoor furniture…”
“Is there a refrigerator?”
“Yes, Mom. A stove, a dishwasher, too—it’s one of those narrow ones, but just right for the space beneath the counter.”
Janet sighed into the receiver at the Cincinnati end of the call.
“Here in Symmes township you could rent a lovely place with three bedrooms, a dining area, even a garage. Or in Montgomery. Landen, too. What is the rent there again?”
She named Mrs. L’s price—well into four figures—and Janet gasped.
“It’s New York City, Mom. The cost of living isn’t cheap. But it’s exactly where I want to be.”
“And your father and I are supposed to fund this madcap adventure?”
“I have a job. I have friends here. Now I’m a small loan away—a few months’ rent, Mom, that’s all I need—from having a place of my own.” She paused for effect. With a partial rent subsidy, she could concentrate on Wunderthings, dazzle Walt with her creative input on the Sydney project and perhaps get a bigger raise.
“You want me to get away from Gran’s influence, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Janet paused. “Very well.”
Darcie’s pulse stopped. “You’ll send the money?” This seemed way too easy. “It doesn’t have to be all at once. A monthly stipend would be great. Tell Daddy to add interest to the loan.”
“No loan, Darcie.”
“But you said…”
“Your father and I—” one of her favorite phrases “—are willing to spring for part of the rent, provided…”
Uh-oh. When Janet paused again, Darcie realized her comments had been leading to some condition she wouldn’t want to consider. Lost in euphoria, she’d forgotten one thing. Filled with sudden dread, Darcie held her breath.
“…that you take Annie as a roommate.”
Darcie groaned. “Oh, Mom. No. Please.”
“We talked about this when I was in New York. Only last night your father concurred. Annie’s job here is a dead-end. That boy she’s been dating—Cliff—has nothing to offer her. He’s still in grad school. Perhaps this change of scene is what she needs after all.” Janet lowered her voice. “Frankly, your sister has been driving me mad since I first spoke to you. She is absolutely the most persistent twenty-three-year old girl I know. She’s obsessed with the notion of moving to that city.”
Darcie felt an unusual surge of empathy for her sister.
“Woman.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Annie’s a woman, not a girl, Mom. So am I.”
Even when she needed a loan to float her boat. Her mother made a sound that could mean agreement, or disagreement.
“Annie has improved. She’s really not as messy as you remember.”
This did not reassure Darcie. She had no doubt in her mind that Annie had been playing their parents like a Stradivarius to get her way. Cleaning up her room once or twice wouldn’t seem that much of a stretch.
Darcie’s new apartment, or Annie, certainly didn’t thrill Eden.
But Julio wasn’t around—he was on duty in the lobby—and she had to do her own talking without an interpreter. Back stiff, hands laced together, she eyed Darcie with disfavor.
“You have a nice big room here. A small rent. No utilities. You don’t need a loan from Hank and Janet. I can’t unde
rstand why you need to move.”
It was the first time Gran had spoken to her in more than monosyllables since their quarrel (or through Julio) and Darcie hated to upset her again. But she’d called Mrs. L the instant her mother hung up and would sign the lease tomorrow. Her stomach fluttered. There was no going back.
“It’s not a loan.”
“No, it’s a pound of flesh. Janet does nothing without a motive—as you’ve discovered. Do you want Annie living with you?”
“Not really.” Still, flush with joy at her own first apartment, Darcie refused to face that yet. She flashed a look at Sweet Baby Jane, napping on the sofa. “But then, maybe it isn’t such a bad idea.” Safety in numbers, Darcie thought. “We’ll keep each other company.”
The cat would never again—except when Darcie visited—take swipes at her tender skin. Eden wouldn’t want to hear that reason for her move, either. She pursed her lips then pressed a hand to her heart.
“I need my digitalis. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I love Annie dearly but she’ll drive you insane. I give it a month, tops.”
“If that happens, you can say ‘I told you so.’”
Eden only smiled, but with a sad edge.
“If you needed a loan, dear, why didn’t you ask me?”
“That’s what Claire said, too.”
“And you told her ‘no’ because…?”
“Same reason I didn’t ask you.” Darcie couldn’t. She and Gran weren’t on the best terms, even now, but at eighty-two Eden needed her nest egg. More than she needed a too-young boyfriend. “Keep your money,” she said gently. “I’ll be fine.”
Eden started to smile again, then her lips went straight as a walking stick.
“This moving. It’s not because of Julio, is it?”
“Moving Day,” Darcie muttered.
She sure couldn’t call it a party, wild or otherwise. Yet this was her day and she made the most of it.
Struggling up the stone steps with yet another carton of junk, she ran smack into Claire’s behind. “Ouch,” they both said at once, then laughed.
“Look at yourself,” Darcie said. Claire’s sloppy sweatshirt, her torn jeans, her raggedy sneakers didn’t suit her VP image, or that of Peter’s wife or Samantha’s mom. “This is so not you.” She gestured at herself with one hand, then grabbed for the corner of the box again. “Or me,” she added. “Too bad the weather didn’t cooperate.”
“I’m glad it’s cloudy today.”
“I won’t ask why.”
“Because it’s a good omen. It always rains on moving day.”
“It’s not raining yet.”
“It will. Ask Peter.”
“Ask me what?” He appeared in the open front door, and propped one hand on the frame. Holding a beer, he grinned at Claire, looking boyish and sexy. “If I have time for a quick tumble on that big new bed Darcie bought?” He waggled his eyebrows at Claire. “With you, my love, of course.”
“It hasn’t been delivered yet. Don’t be crude.”
Peter gave Claire a look Darcie couldn’t interpret, just as she couldn’t keep juggling the heavy carton.
“Could you two settle your problems without me? If I don’t put this stuff down in the next two seconds, my arms will fall off.”
“Then you’d be no good to us at all,” Peter agreed and stepped back. “I’d help you with that box, but I’m replenishing my precious bodily fluids.” Another pointed look at Claire.
First through the doorway, she jabbed him lightly in the ribs.
Right behind Claire, Darcie found Merrick in the kitchen unloading a batch of housewares Gran had insisted on sending with her. Dumping the last box beside his feet, Darcie straightened with a hand at the small of her back to massage away the kinks.
She looked around.
“Not bad.”
“Me?” Merrick said with a smile for his favorite subject.
Darcie rolled her eyes. “No, this apartment.” She was beginning to wonder just how many beers the two men had consumed while they “helped” her move. But then, that comment could come from Merrick any time. “It’s looking good.”
Courtesy of Mrs. L, she had living room furniture, her kitchen would soon be equipped enough to cook the simple meals that were all Darcie knew how to prepare, and with luck, her bed would arrive by 5:00 p.m.
“Who’s going for pizza?” she asked. “I’m hungry.”
“Lift a few more cartons,” Merrick suggested, “while I run to the corner. Pepperoni? Mushrooms?”
“Everything.”
“Double cheese,” Claire ordered. “No anchovies.”
“More beer,” Peter said. “I’ll go with you.”
Claire stepped in his path. “No you won’t. You can drag the rest of those boxes off the truck. Darcie and I will unpack.”
He looked at Merrick. “Worth a try.”
“Give me your wallet,” Claire said.
“Robbery. What’s next? I’m now a pauper, at the mercy of two women.”
Merrick said, “I promise not to open the beer before I get back.”
“Good man.”
Darcie grinned at her friends, so happy she could hardly speak. Within the week she’d be organized, well before Annie arrived. Annie had stayed in Cincinnati even after their parents’ check winged its way to New York. She had to give notice at her job—not much, but some, she said—and handle Cliff, her disgruntled boyfriend. Oh, then pack her belongings. Darcie mentally groaned. She could imagine the boxes yet to come.
By the time Claire and Peter took the sleeping Samantha home hours later, Darcie felt exhausted but still content. Elated, in fact.
In the living room, after waving goodbye to the Spencers, Darcie crawled onto Merrick’s lap in the big armchair she’d inherited from Mrs. L.
Merrick gently pushed her away.
“Do I smell bad?” Darcie frowned at him, but Merrick had his eyes closed and couldn’t see her. “I must smell bad. Thank goodness it wasn’t ninety-five degrees today with humidity to match. I mean, it’s bad enough to lift all those cartons, and moving my desk from Gran’s apartment was no easy feat—”
“Are you talking to yourself again?”
“No.”
“Because I’m not listening. I’m asleep.”
Trying not to feel hurt, Darcie slid off his lap. “If I get you another beer, will you wake up?”
Shaking his head, Merrick laughed. “Darce, relax, will you?”
“This is my first night in my first home. My home. I want it to be special.”
“Then throw on a dress. Something racy. We’ll go out to eat, have a few drinks—I’ll buy you champagne—” He groaned softly. “Except I can’t move.”
Did she smell bad?
Darcie sniffed under both arms. Not too shabby, omitting her torn T-shirt, her ripped jeans. But she was moving, the world’s messiest chore. So what was his problem? She couldn’t quite figure it out.
“Tell me. Do you miss Jacqueline?” she asked.
“After what she did?” He snorted in apparent surprise, as if he were totally blameless. “I’ve learned my lesson. If I ever get married again, we’ll sign a pre-nup.”
“You and me?” Darcie said. “That won’t happen.”
He half smiled. “That’s one thing I like about you. You’re honest.”
“What’s another thing?”
“Excuse me?”
Suddenly this seemed important. “Tell me something else you like about me.”
His hesitation told her more than she wanted to know. Still, she’d asked. “Don’t be a witch tonight,” he said. Merrick went into the kitchen, flicking off the living room light switch on his way. In the darkness, Darcie seethed.
Then she strode after him.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?” he said, his gaze blank when he turned from the refrigerator. He’d been perusing its contents.
“Every time you leave a room, you shut off the lights. On me.”
He sighed. “The rich don’t get wealthy from squandering every dollar. We turn off lights, we drive used cars…”
“I bet you never drove a used car in your life.”
Merrick owned a Lexus. No, two of them. One was an SUV model, for weekends. The other had every gimmick and accessory known to materialistic man. But Darcie had to take his word. She’d never seen either of them. Just like his apartment—the one his wife had left along, Darcie supposed, with all her reminders of Merrick.
“What concern is it of yours if I make enough money—which I damn well do even in this market freefall—to buy myself a few trinkets?”
“I’ve never had a trinket,” Darcie murmured. “Maybe a diamond and ruby bracelet…matching earrings for my birthday? When is my birthday, Merrick Lowell?” She singsonged the “tick-tock” of a game-show clock. “Beep. Time’s up.”
“Christ. Are you punishing me again for some reason?”
“Sorry. Only one of us is playing now.”
He plunged back into the fridge and came out with a beer for himself. “What the hell do you think it felt like, Jackie taking the kids and running off like that?”
So it did matter to him. “Even if you weren’t perfect for each other.”
Darcie thought of Claire, of how difficult she found being a new mother. But for Merrick to lose his kids, even part-time…
“This isn’t easy for you, I know.”
Tonight, Darcie refused to feel irritated. Argument exhausted her, and it was getting late. In more ways than one. Was she going to spend the rest of her life having phone sex with Dylan instead of the real thing? Or was it time to really mend her fences with Merrick? Overlook his shortcomings? Soothe both their egos, at least for a while?
“You want a slice of this leftover pizza?” he said, apparently unconcerned.
“I thought we were having dinner at Luccio’s.”
“Pizza, Luccio’s. It’s all Italian.”
“Let’s order in, then. They’ll deliver.”
“See? I’m the big spender you always dreamed of.”
“I was actually more interested in Pierce Brosnan tonight. Brad Pitt. Ben Affleck…definitely Ben.”