hear it…”
They came up onto Fifth Avenue and headed for the corner of 65th Street. She hefted her briefcase and groaned. “Mind if I stop off and dump this thing?” she said. “It’s on our way.”
“Sure, why not?”
They crossed Fifth and walked almost the length of the short block down 65th. There Harry the doorman saw Caroline coming, swung the door open for them. “Be back down in a sec, Harry,” Caroline said, giving him the quick look she normally gave him when going up to her place with someone for the first time. Harry nodded, saying nothing, merely touched his hat to Mike. The message was plain: if Caroline didn’t come back down “in a sec”, Harry would quickly be checking to find out what was the matter.
“Nice building,” Mike said. “It’s really good for the bus from work.”
“Yeah,” Caroline said. “Usually I take it when I think I’m not going to get steamed to death…” The elevator door opened: she hung a left, with Mike in tow, and got her keys out. Several locks later, Caroline pushed the door open. “Come on in—”
Mike stood in the hallway, looking around, as Caroline disabled the alarm system, then headed into the living room and chucked her briefcase on the couch. She slipped out of her work coat and pulled a waxed Burberry jacket off the back of a chair. “Nice place,” Mike said, glancing around.
She could just hear him thinking: And how can you possibly afford it on what the company pays you? “Rent control,” said Caroline, slinging her purse back over the Burberry. “My mom left it to me in her will after my dad left it to her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They both loved it: I love it too. They’re always with me, kind of…” But more Mum, really, Caroline thought. Out of habit she glanced across the living room at the window with the couch where her mom had loved to sit, looking down over the city where she had never really felt at home, though she’d done her best. I have too much of the old country in me, she remembered her mother saying. I just wonder if you have enough…
“Does the fireplace work?”
He sounded wistful now. “Yeah,” Caroline said, heading for the door, and Mike went out into the corridor to wait for her as she locked up. “That was the main reason my dad bought it for my mum. Most Irish houses had fireplaces when she was growing up: she refused to live in any house that didn’t have one.” And she smiled again all the way to the elevator, and all the way downstairs, hearing her mother’s voice: Only a heathen would live in a house without a hearthstone. What protection’s there against the night, and the things of the night, without fire?
Out on the street, Caroline turned to the right again. “Down this way,” she said. “You ever been to La Finezza?”
“No,” Matiyas said. “Italian?”
“You got it. And a nice bar.” They headed around the corner, past the cleaner’s and the newsstand and the pet shop. And there Caroline had to pause for a moment, peering in the store’s bay window, which was filled with wood shavings, and pet food dishes, and fluffy striped kittens. “Awww!”
“I didn’t think they were allowed to have pet stores like this any more,” Matiyas said, smiling down at the kittens, and then peering past them into the dimness—the store was closed now—at the softly lit aquariums full of bright fish, or in some cases lizards or tarantula, and nearest the window, the still, black, coiled silken rope of a single dark rat snake.
Caroline followed his glance, shivered one last time. “I could do without those,” she said, “but the kittens are great. I always want to buy them all. It’s a good thing my building’s no-pets.”
They walked on down to the door of La Finezza, went in. The whole front of the bar and restaurant was glass, a set of wide folding shutters. “In the summer they fold all this right back,” Caroline said, and had no time to say more,
They came up onto Fifth Avenue and headed for the corner of 65th Street. She hefted her briefcase and groaned. “Mind if I stop off and dump this thing?” she said. “It’s on our way.”
“Sure, why not?”
They crossed Fifth and walked almost the length of the short block down 65th. There Harry the doorman saw Caroline coming, swung the door open for them. “Be back down in a sec, Harry,” Caroline said, giving him the quick look she normally gave him when going up to her place with someone for the first time. Harry nodded, saying nothing, merely touched his hat to Mike. The message was plain: if Caroline didn’t come back down “in a sec”, Harry would quickly be checking to find out what was the matter.
“Nice building,” Mike said. “It’s really good for the bus from work.”
“Yeah,” Caroline said. “Usually I take it when I think I’m not going to get steamed to death…” The elevator door opened: she hung a left, with Mike in tow, and got her keys out. Several locks later, Caroline pushed the door open. “Come on in—”
Mike stood in the hallway, looking around, as Caroline disabled the alarm system, then headed into the living room and chucked her briefcase on the couch. She slipped out of her work coat and pulled a waxed Burberry jacket off the back of a chair. “Nice place,” Mike said, glancing around.
She could just hear him thinking: And how can you possibly afford it on what the company pays you? “Rent control,” said Caroline, slinging her purse back over the Burberry. “My mom left it to me in her will after my dad left it to her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They both loved it: I love it too. They’re always with me, kind of…” But more Mum, really, Caroline thought. Out of habit she glanced across the living room at the window with the couch where her mom had loved to sit, looking down over the city where she had never really felt at home, though she’d done her best. I have too much of the old country in me, she remembered her mother saying. I just wonder if you have enough…
“Does the fireplace work?”
He sounded wistful now. “Yeah,” Caroline said, heading for the door, and Mike went out into the corridor to wait for her as she locked up. “That was the main reason my dad bought it for my mum. Most Irish houses had fireplaces when she was growing up: she refused to live in any house that didn’t have one.” And she smiled again all the way to the elevator, and all the way downstairs, hearing her mother’s voice: Only a heathen would live in a house without a hearthstone. What protection’s there against the night, and the things of the night, without fire?
Out on the street, Caroline turned to the right again. “Down this way,” she said. “You ever been to La Finezza?”
“No,” Matiyas said. “Italian?”
“You got it. And a nice bar.” They headed around the corner, past the cleaner’s and the newsstand and the pet shop. And there Caroline had to pause for a moment, peering in the store’s bay window, which was filled with wood shavings, and pet food dishes, and fluffy striped kittens. “Awww!”
“I didn’t think they were allowed to have pet stores like this any more,” Matiyas said, smiling down at the kittens, and then peering past them into the dimness—the store was closed now—at the softly lit aquariums full of bright fish, or in some cases lizards or tarantula, and nearest the window, the still, black, coiled silken rope of a single dark rat snake.
Caroline followed his glance, shivered one last time. “I could do without those,” she said, “but the kittens are great. I always want to buy them all. It’s a good thing my building’s no-pets.”
They walked on down to the door of La Finezza, went in. The whole front of the bar and restaurant was glass, a set of wide folding shutters. “In the summer they fold all this right back,” Caroline said, and had no time to say more,
Similar Books
