The First Law of Love by Abbie Williams Page B

him. “Thank you again.”
    Clark said to Wy, “Buddy, grab Tish’s bags. Let’s get her into her new place.”
    Between the four of us, all of my things were carried up the stairs to the second floor with one trip; my apartment was 206, and Al unlocked and swung open the door.
    â€œOh, I love it,” I heard myself say. I set the two bags I’d hauled up onto the carpet and spun in a slow circle, admiring the sunlit space.
    â€œBrand new building,” Al explained. “This is a nice little place.”
    â€œI like your porch!” Wy said, darting across the living room with its brown leather couch (saggy and well-used, but probably comfortable as hell), small TV on a cube-shaped stand, a recliner upholstered in faded blue denim, and a lone bookshelf, empty of any reading material. Wy unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped out into the sunshine, admiring the view from a narrow balcony overlooking the parking lot. But the mountains were visible in the distance, and I pictured sitting right there tonight and smoking a couple of celebratory, welcome-to-my-own-place cigarettes.
    The living room was to the right, the kitchen straight ahead, both with west-facing windows. The entire place was small, but it was mine, and I felt a delicious thrill at the thought of this. Already I was envisioning where I would put my things, the plants I would have to buy for the windowsill and top of the fridge. There was a little round wooden table with four mismatched chairs, a patchwork quilt hanging on the wall above it, along with a framed picture featuring mountains at sunset. The table was graced with a set of four yellow placemats.
    â€œWhere do you want these things?” Clark asked. He was burdened with two more of my bags.
    â€œOh, right on the carpet there is perfect,” I said. And then, “Clark, thank you so much for your help.”
    He winked at me as he set the luggage on the floor. He said, “I’m already looking forward to dinner this next Friday. I can’t wait to hear all about your week.”
    Al said, “Patricia, here are your keys. And here are directions to my house. We live just off of the old highway, maybe a mile out of town. Can’t miss it. Should we say dinner at six?”
    â€œThat sounds wonderful,” I said, reaching to shake his hand once more. “And please, call me Tish. I don’t usually go by Patricia.”
    â€œTish,” he said agreeably. “You’ll have to explore Jalesville a bit this afternoon. The grocery is a block over from the law office. There’s a bank near that. The office is three blocks from the official town square and the city council building, the courthouse.”
    â€œI will, and thank you again,” I told Al.
    â€œUntil this evening then,” Al said, taking his leave.
    Clark called to Wy, who was still on the porch, “Let’s give Tish a chance to settle in, son.”
    â€œI’m coming!” Wy said, ducking back inside. He caught me in an exuberant hug on the way out the door. He added, “I work at Nelson’s Hardware right near the law office, so come see me if you want. Maybe we can have lunch sometimes!”
    Clark said, “Call us if you need anything this week, won’t you?”
    â€œI will,” I said, and then, since Al was not in earshot, added, “I’m sorry about getting drunk last night…”
    Clark laughed at this, saying, “Never you mind about that. You’d obviously had a long day.”
    A minute later I was left alone in my own place. Feeling like the little girl in The Secret Garden , I explored every last closet (of which there were exactly two), prowled down the short hall and checked out my bedroom, which featured a full-size bed (I had brought along my own pillows, sheets and blankets from Minnesota) and a chest of drawers, not so much as a mirror. The adjacent bathroom was itty-bitty, hardly large enough