CHAPTER28
Chloe
I’m on my way back to Barrett’s place after work when I get a call from the seamstress who is altering my dress for Lauren’s wedding. There was a mix up and although I had asked them to switch the delivery address to Barrett’s, it was accidentally delivered to my apartment.
I tell her it’s no big deal and reroute the driver toward 116thStreet. I haven’t been to my apartment since I left nearly a month ago and it would be a good idea to check out the progress on the fix ups.
Outside the building I find a shiny new intercom system that allows residents to buzz guests in. And to my surprise, the door and handle have been changed also. I’ve got my key in my hand, but there’s nowhere to insert it. I stand back to verify that I am at the correct address. It’s only been a month but with all the sex Barrett and I are having, I might have orgasmed my old address right out of my brain.
It's the right address. What the hell has happened here?
I’m standing there wondering what to do when a familiar face opens the door from inside. It’s my neighbor Todd and he’s dressed for work in black scrubs and a backpack over his shoulders.
“Hey, Chloe, good to see you.”
He holds the door open for me.
“You, too, Todd.” I smile. He’s a big burly guy with a reddish-brown beard and bald head.
“Are you moving back in?” he asks.
“Um, I was stopping by to pick something up.” I can already see the garment bag hanging from a hook under the mailboxes. Someone must have let the delivery person in.
“Make sure you don’t lose your key fob.” He lifts his key ring to show me a small card hooked to one of the rings. “Fifty bucks for a replacement, so I would keep good tabs on it if I were you.”
“Okay.” I nod, noting to make sure I don’t lose my key fob once I actually receive it. I’m wondering if it was sent to Barrett’s place.
Todd departs and I take in the small entryway. It’s freshly painted and has new hand railings on the stairs. There’s also a heavy-duty all-weather rug and a plant in a yellow pot in the corner by the mailboxes. I throw the garment bag over my arm and head for the stairs.
Upstairs, the changes continue. New paint, floors refinished, updated light fixtures overhead. When I get to my apartment door, I have to check the number because the doors are all freshly painted and the tiny heart engraving below the peep hole isn’t there anymore. The black doors are modern and nice, but I do miss seeing that heart engraving.
I look around again before using my apartment key that by some miracle still works. I thought my landlord was going to get rid of the mice, not redo the entire building. The key works, but the lock is firm now, no jiggling in a precise way required.
On the other side of the door, I find more changes. My belongings are there, but they’ve been rearranged, likely due to the fact that the floors and wall paint are new in here, too. The brick wall looks less crumbly, I’m not sure what has been done to remedy that. The light fixture overhead is new…it has a ceiling fan now. The most startling change is the tiny window in the front isn’t tiny anymore. It’s large and takes up the upper half of the wall. It also seems quieter; did they add more insulation? Or maybe that’s the result of a window that is properly sealed. There’s no sign of Ralph, either.
I’m in shock. The place looks great. But more surprising is that according to Todd, it’s been complete for weeks, yet I’ve heard nothing from my landlord or from Barrett.
I pull up her number and hit the call button.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Chloe Anderson in apartment 2B on 116thStreet.”
“Hi, Chloe. How are you? How is everything with the apartment?” She sounds eager to please.
“Good. I was wondering where my key fob was sent. I never got notice that the apartment was ready.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. I was certain I sent everything to you. I double checked multiple times.”
“Okay. Can you verify where it was delivered?” I ask.
“Yes, let’s see. It was delivered on July 10thto the temporary address on file.”
“Was it signed for?” I ask, wondering if maybe it got lost in transit. I really don’t want to pay fifty dollars for a new key fob.
“Yes, by B. St. Clair,” she confirms. “Did you not receive it? I can send out another one free of charge. They normally cost fifty dollars, but I can make an exception this time.”
“No,” I tell her, “that’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll be able to locate it.”
