The Apartment

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Authors: Debbie Macomber
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refrigerator,” she said, her gaze avoiding his. “I put your food in the lower bin…mine’s in the upper.”
    Sean felt a muscle jerk in his jaw as he grabbed his lunch and headed out the door.
    * * *
    What was so painful, Hilary realized, as she readied for work, was that Sean was right. Not only had she made a fool of herself over him twice, but he’d pointed out one all-important fact: He didn’t want her.
    It mortified her every time she thought of the way she’d thrown herself at him, how she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Never in all her life had she been so bold with a man. No wonder Sean thought she was out to gain a little experience. She’d led him to believe she was using him.
    He was older, wiser, more knowledgeable than she was. This was her first time away from home. It made perfect sense that she would spread her wings. If anything, she should be grateful he was gentleman enough not to take advantage of her.
    They’d been together nearly three weeks now. How quickly that time had passed. Soon he’d be on his own, and it was highly unlikely their worlds would cross again.
    It surprised her how much she yearned to talk to her mother. It would have been a simple matter to reach for the phone and spill out her tale of woe, but Hilary resisted the temptation. She’d made an issue of standing on her own two feet. She’d even gone so far as to ask her mother to stop mothering her. Contacting her now, at the first sign of trouble, was a sign of pure weakness. Hilary eyed the wall phone longingly as she walked out of the kitchen.
    Sean had one big advantage, she mused as she dressed. He had several friends in Portland. Because she was shy, Hilary had trouble getting to know others. She promised herself she’d make more of an effort.
    * * *
    Her chance came sooner than she expected. Arnold Wilson, who played bass violin, asked her out for coffee following rehearsal that same evening. He was tall and thin with a long, domineering nose. His smile was warm. He was a gentle man, and Hilary thought highly of him, although they’d only spoken briefly.
    â€œCoffee…sure,” Hilary answered, pleased at the invitation.
    â€œAfter practice, a number of us stop in at Lenny’s, the coffee shop on the comer. I was hoping you’d come.”
    â€œI’ll be happy to.” There were several in the symphony who were close in age to Hilary. Rita, who played fourth-chair clarinet, had asked her to join them once before, but Hilary had been exhausted and declined. Now, however, she was more accustomed to the grueling schedule of working days and then attending lengthy practice sessions.
    That evening, when they’d finished at the music hall, Hilary, Arnold, Rita and Bill gathered around the table at the all-night diner. Hilary’s new friends shared an easy camaraderie and soon they were all chattering at once, being careful to include her in the conversation. It felt wonderful to feel part of the group.
    Hilary was surprised to learn that Rita, a housewife and the mother of a five-year-old, was only three years older than she was. Hilary couldn’t imagine herself as a mother. As Rita talked, relating a recent anecdote about her daughter, Hilary’s thoughts wandered back to the need she’d experienced that morning to talk to her own mother. She’d been hurt and had instinctively reached out for the one person in all the world who would comfort her.
    Sean was right—her relationship with her mother was far more complex than she realized. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d miss her so much.
    Her mother wasn’t the only person who occupied her thoughts. Sean was there as well, bold as could be, gruff and impatient, barely looking her way. He was letting her know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he regretted kissing her. The problem was, Hilary couldn’t dredge up any genuine

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