of sand and cigarette butts. This was all outside the windows and side door of what I assumed was Adele’s apartment. It was kind of a cute set up, if somewhat plain.
The voicemail from the insurance agent sounded like a pretty decent job, so I added them to my list of stops. I was about to get in my car when I noticed Adele walking back from the Winn Dixie with a plastic shopping bag. I waved.
“Adele,” I said jovially. “Just the woman I wanted to see.”
She eyed me. “Is that so?”
“It is indeed. I have a question for you.”
“And what would that be?” She took a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and shook one out, sticking it in her lips while she felt for a lighter.
“I was wondering if the storefront here might be available for rent as well? I’m in the market for an office, and I was thinking that space might work out for me.”
She took a long drag while she appeared to consider it, blowing smoke up toward the sky. “Well now, I don’t know exactly. We’ve got some things in there we’re storing. I’m not sure what we’d do with that. Tell you what, let’s go see what it looks like.”
She had me wait while she got the keys, and we went into the shop through a side door connecting with the hall. It was essentially a large room with a couple of offices in back. The air was stale and smelled like dust. The floor was littered with scraps of paper, old price tags, and the odd cigarette butt. Brown grime covered the windows and filtered the sunlight, making it hazy.
I wandered through the room, looking at the furniture and old cardboard boxes scattered around, and turned back to Adele. “You know, I don’t need all that much space. If you let me build a couple of walls in here, you could still use part of it for storage. This stuff is kind of spread out, and if it were arranged better it would fit in a much smaller area.”
“Hmm,” she said, thoughtfully. Streams of smoke blew out her nose. “You’d have to do the work. And the cleaning. We’re not interested in getting this place all fixed up for you.”
“Of course not, ma’am, I’m sure I could arrange to have all the work done.” She sounded skeptical, but there wasn’t more than a couple days’ work involved. “You wouldn’t have to be troubled with it at all, other than to approve the plans.”
She nodded and flicked her ash on the floor. “I’ll have to talk it over with my sister-in-law, Fern, and see what the other girls think. Don’t know what we’d charge for the rent yet. Have to figure that out.”
“Why don’t you do that,” I told her as I picked my way back over to her. “Maybe let me know in a day or two? If you think it’ll work out, I’d like to get started right away.”
“All right. We’ll see what we can come up with.”
As she walked out, I said, “Hey, Adele, can I bum a smoke off you?”
“Yeah, sure.” She pulled the pack out of her sweater, shook a couple loose and held it out for me to take one. “Need a light?”
“I have one. Thanks,” I told her, reaching in my pocket for a book of matches. I try to always carry one, because you never know when they might come in handy.
On my way out to the car, I flipped open my phone and dialed Seth’s number. He answered with, “Talk dirty to me.”
“Okay,” I said. “How does an afternoon spent getting all hot and sweaty grab you?”
“Dude, that’s not bad. We might just make a pervert out of you yet. What did you have in mind?” The tone of his voice was pure sex, and I think I blushed for the second time that morning.
I gave myself a shake and said, “I think Adele will rent me that storefront for an office, and I need your help cleaning it up and building a couple walls.”
“Oh, you were so close.”
“Yeah, yeah. Can I count on you?”
“Sure. I have a few accounts I could use help collecting on, you take care of that for me and we’ll call it even.”
* * * *
Later that evening, I returned home with a bag of actual groceries since my food supply was in dire straits and I’d been overdosing on the takeout lately.
Inside the entryway, the smell of pot roast was so strong I started to drool immediately. My stomach growled, and I was glad I had food with me. Before I could reach the stairs, Della came sweeping down them with a china bowl in her hand. “Why, sugar, what a lovely surprise! You’re just in time for supper. Come with me.”
“Oh, no thanks, Della. I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense, honey, we’re having a little dinner party, and it just wouldn’t be complete without our newest tenant.” She took me by the arm and pulled me down the hall to Adele’s apartment with a smooth style that didn’t brook resistance. So I didn’t try.
I let her lead me through the living room into the dining room and kitchen area, where there was a cozy scene. They had Glen Miller playing on the record player while Ruth and another old woman fussed around in the kitchen making salad and mashed potatoes. Adele sat at the counter with a drink and a cigarette, telling some story about her late husband and how men are. The table was set with old-fashioned china, nice silverware and a pot of flowers. I smiled and felt like I was a kid back home in New York with Ma and my grandma cooking Sunday dinner.
“Look what I found, girls,” Della announced with a broad smile. “Shall we set another place at the table?”
Ruth turned around, sucking mashed potatoes off her thumb, and lit up. “Mr. Martini, what a nice surprise. Yes, please stay, we have a ton of food here.”
Ruth had silver gray hair cut short in a man’s style, rimless glasses, and wore jeans and a plain sweater. She looked like the type to ride her bicycle everywhere and she was probably in better shape than I was.
The other woman, a powder-faced lady older than any of them, looked fairly sour at the prospect of a strange man joining the party. I assumed she must be Fern.
Adele said, “Sure, come on in, I’ll make you a drink. What’s your poison?”
This was old-fashioned entertaining of the kind they just don’t do anymore, and it wouldn’t have taken much to make me believe I’d stepped back about forty-five years. I think I fell in love on the spot.
“You know, ladies, I would be honored to join you. Just let me go upstairs and put my groceries away.”
There was a chorus of approval from all but Fern, so I took my bag up to my apartment and grabbed a bottle of wine and the last of my Disaronno. I know what’s expected of men at dinner parties like these—they bring liquor and they flatter ladies. And I was in a mood to flatter ladies.
When I returned, they had Peggy Lee playing and they were putting dinner on the table. Fern was just taking a pan of white rolls out of the oven, and my stomach growled at the smell of fresh bread.
I looked at Adele. “Do you have a corkscrew?”
She
