everywhere she went. I loved it there. Mother hated it. She felt the whole thing, especially the people, were beneath her. She’s a terrible snob for someone who swindles people for a living. The only reason we stayed so long was a contract she couldn’t get out of. As soon as the contract was up, she left without a backward glance.
I was heartbroken. Traveling with no one but my mother for company can be incredibly lonely.
I turn the corner onto our block and slow as I see someone come out of our building. I know it’s Cole not only by his height and broad shoulders but also by his distinctive walk. I hold my breath but instead of coming in my direction, he crosses the street and turns at the next corner. I hesitate, but only for a moment. Something about Cole makes me uneasy, and my cranky neighbor may have the answers. Considering the visions I’ve been having, I can’t afford to leave any stone unturned. It’s time Mr. Darby and I had a little chat about his mysterious houseguest.
Seven
O nce back in my building, I do a quick check on my mother to make sure she’s still happily sleeping before heading back downstairs. I waver before knocking on Mr. Darby’s door. But then I take a deep breath and knock softly. He answers within seconds.
“That’s the problem with neighbors,” he says in greeting. “You’re nice to them once and you never get rid of them.”
I hide a smile, refusing to let him intimidate me. I’ve always wanted to live in a place long enough to have neighbors, and a crotchety neighbor is better than none at all. Besides, Mr. Darby’s grumpiness is nothing compared to some of the stage managers I’ve worked with. I put one hand on my hip and raise an eyebrow. “Just when were you ever nice to me? And you should be nice. I brought you some of that tea you said you wanted.”
He eyes my basket. “I see that. And croissants, too?” He opens the door wider. “Well, come on in, girl. It’s cold out here in the hall.”
Hesitating only a moment, I follow him into his apartment, not bothering to correct his mistake. If my mother can give my tea to Jacques, I can give her croissant to Mr. Darby.
I glance around as I follow Mr. Darby into the kitchen. The rooms are neater than I’d expected for a bachelor apartment, and I wonder which of its residents is the tidy one.
I slow as I pass a desk with an envelope on it. It is addressed to Cole in a flowery, feminine script. The return address says London.
“Well, come along.” Mr. Darby waves his hand at me and I blush, hoping he doesn’t think I’m snooping. Even if I am.
“You might as well sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
I sit at a small table and watch as he puts the water on the stove and adds more coal to the fire. Like the sitting room, the kitchen is clean and comfortable. The furniture looks worn and less expensive than our brand-new set but far more homey. As if someone actually lives here. Sometimes I wish our apartment looked a little more lived in. Of course, lived in isn’t really good for business. Not now that we’re trying to attract a ritzier clientele.
Mr. Darby places a cup and saucer in front of me and then adds a plate. “You’ll probably want to be served, too.” He furrows his forehead in disapproval.
“Well, I did bring the tea and the croissants,” I say, sarcasm seeping through my smile.
The corner of his mouth twitches as he sets the tea down in front of me. “You don’t fool me, missy. You’re just hoping to run into Cole.”
My head jerks up. “I am not!”
He snorts and takes the seat across from me. “Anyway, you’re out of luck. He’s gone already.”
I shift in my seat, my face flaming. If Mr. Darby thinks I’m interested in Cole, maybe he’ll be a bit more forthcoming with information. All I have to do is swallow my pride.
“When did Cole move in with you? I didn’t see him when we first came here.” I widen my eyes, trying for fake innocence.
He flashes
I was heartbroken. Traveling with no one but my mother for company can be incredibly lonely.
I turn the corner onto our block and slow as I see someone come out of our building. I know it’s Cole not only by his height and broad shoulders but also by his distinctive walk. I hold my breath but instead of coming in my direction, he crosses the street and turns at the next corner. I hesitate, but only for a moment. Something about Cole makes me uneasy, and my cranky neighbor may have the answers. Considering the visions I’ve been having, I can’t afford to leave any stone unturned. It’s time Mr. Darby and I had a little chat about his mysterious houseguest.
Seven
O nce back in my building, I do a quick check on my mother to make sure she’s still happily sleeping before heading back downstairs. I waver before knocking on Mr. Darby’s door. But then I take a deep breath and knock softly. He answers within seconds.
“That’s the problem with neighbors,” he says in greeting. “You’re nice to them once and you never get rid of them.”
I hide a smile, refusing to let him intimidate me. I’ve always wanted to live in a place long enough to have neighbors, and a crotchety neighbor is better than none at all. Besides, Mr. Darby’s grumpiness is nothing compared to some of the stage managers I’ve worked with. I put one hand on my hip and raise an eyebrow. “Just when were you ever nice to me? And you should be nice. I brought you some of that tea you said you wanted.”
He eyes my basket. “I see that. And croissants, too?” He opens the door wider. “Well, come on in, girl. It’s cold out here in the hall.”
Hesitating only a moment, I follow him into his apartment, not bothering to correct his mistake. If my mother can give my tea to Jacques, I can give her croissant to Mr. Darby.
I glance around as I follow Mr. Darby into the kitchen. The rooms are neater than I’d expected for a bachelor apartment, and I wonder which of its residents is the tidy one.
I slow as I pass a desk with an envelope on it. It is addressed to Cole in a flowery, feminine script. The return address says London.
“Well, come along.” Mr. Darby waves his hand at me and I blush, hoping he doesn’t think I’m snooping. Even if I am.
“You might as well sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
I sit at a small table and watch as he puts the water on the stove and adds more coal to the fire. Like the sitting room, the kitchen is clean and comfortable. The furniture looks worn and less expensive than our brand-new set but far more homey. As if someone actually lives here. Sometimes I wish our apartment looked a little more lived in. Of course, lived in isn’t really good for business. Not now that we’re trying to attract a ritzier clientele.
Mr. Darby places a cup and saucer in front of me and then adds a plate. “You’ll probably want to be served, too.” He furrows his forehead in disapproval.
“Well, I did bring the tea and the croissants,” I say, sarcasm seeping through my smile.
The corner of his mouth twitches as he sets the tea down in front of me. “You don’t fool me, missy. You’re just hoping to run into Cole.”
My head jerks up. “I am not!”
He snorts and takes the seat across from me. “Anyway, you’re out of luck. He’s gone already.”
I shift in my seat, my face flaming. If Mr. Darby thinks I’m interested in Cole, maybe he’ll be a bit more forthcoming with information. All I have to do is swallow my pride.
“When did Cole move in with you? I didn’t see him when we first came here.” I widen my eyes, trying for fake innocence.
He flashes
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