It Happened One Night(6)
Author: Melinda Curtis
Nora stopped at the grand, arched gate to the historic apartment building on 86th Avenue. It was just two short blocks from Central Park. There was an interior courtyard with a mermaid fountain bubbling in the midst of meticulously groomed, rose-blooming gardens. The Ercoli put her cramped, plain brick apartment building to shame.
“Don’t be intimidated,” Nora mumbled to herself. Because of her mother, she’d met wealthy and famous people before. Heck, her current step-father was wealthy and famous. Nora knew how to mingle and make small talk. She wasn’t impressed by grand homes or apartments, by showy jewelry or designer handbags. Or she hadn’t been when introduced as the daughter of Hildy Flowers.
But this was different. Now she had a wealthy client. Best case? This could be huge in terms of referrals for her business. Worst case? Everyone who was anyone in New York City would hear about her failure and she’d be blackballed.
“Don’t fail,” Nora mumbled, entering the property.
She found the uniformed bellman at the front desk and gave him her best smile. “Hi. I’m here to see Dotty Summer.”
“Twelve C.” The doorman was an older gentleman with a thick head of white hair. He chuckled. “That Dotty. She gives Mr. Summer fits.” He crossed the lobby toward the elevators, hard-soled shoes ringing on green marble tiles.
“Should I…” Nora’s tote felt as heavy as the task ahead of her. “Should I be worried?”
“About Dotty? No.” He keyed the elevator to bring her to the twelfth floor, the top floor, where she assumed all the grand penthouse suites were located.
And a prickly Mr. Summer, who had to be the father Dotty said her little grandson tried so hard to please.
The elevator ride was short and smooth. The doors opened to a grand hallway on the twelfth floor. That hallway was easily twice as wide as the one in her building and twice as intimidating. There was framed artwork on the walls.
Nora swallowed her nerves and stepped out.
The door to 12C stood open.
A petite, elderly woman in a purple tracksuit and yellow sneakers waved. “You must be Nora. I’m Dotty, the one who called.” Dotty had short gray hair that had partially escaped her attempts to make two little pigtails behind her ears. She handed Nora a check. “And good, you brought food. Maybe the boy will eat. I’m so worried.”
“Help has arrived,” Nora said in a too-chipper voice. And then she didn’t dare speak because of the opulence of the room behind Dotty.
The apartment looked as if it had been lifted from the pages of a magazine as an example of modern minimalism. The exterior wall was made of glass and extended two stories upward. The floors were dark hardwood, laid in a herringbone pattern. The seating was modern, tan, chrome, and leather. There were paintings hung on the walls, one of which looked like a Van Gogh Starry Night. An original? A large television hung over the black marble slab fireplace. To the left of the living room was an open kitchen with slick white cabinets and black marble countertops. The place lacked warmth. It didn’t have as much as a fuzzy throw or a soft pillow.
Nothing about the apartment felt like Dotty, who led her toward the kitchen. It certainly didn’t look like the home of a young boy. It felt like an austere home, one designed to impress. This was the home of a man who had no patience or time for imperfections, sub-standard, or celebrities who milked the press.
Nora’s breath suddenly burned in her lungs as if she’d eaten pasta for breakfast and run all the way over here.
The words, “Don’t tell them about mom,” echoed in Nora’s head like a bad voice-over in one of her mother’s horror films.
“How do we get this party started, Nora?” Dotty took a seat at the massive kitchen island. “Not just for me, but for my boy.”
“Nutrition is a key to my program.” Nora set her purchases on the counter and began unpacking bags. “So, I’d like to take inventory of your pantry and refrigerator. And then we’ll begin to purge and replace.”
“Have at it.” Dotty waved a hand. And then she swung around in her bar stool and called out, “Whiskers, where are you?”
“Whiskers.” Nora smiled. That sounded like the name of a friendly cat. It followed that whoever Mr. Summer was, he couldn’t be all bad if he owned a cat. Nora opened a cupboard door to what she assumed was the pantry.
The shelves were bare. Likewise, the refrigerator had nothing of consequence in it besides a bag of exotic coffee beans.
Nora frowned. Where were the staples little boys devoured? Cookies? Potato chips? Ice cream? Soda? “Does your grandson live here?”
“Yes. I’m just visiting.” Dotty called out again, “Whiskers!”
“I’m confused.” Nora gave a little laugh, placing two glass bowls she’d brought on the counter and filling them with steel-cut oatmeal. “Who lives here?”
“I do.” A tall, handsome man emerged from a doorway at the back of the kitchen. He had classic, if somewhat hollow, features – a strong chin, defined cheekbones, bright blue eyes – and nearly-black hair that was pushed away from his face. He had an air of sophistication and privilege that ran counter to his blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and bare feet.
Bare feet shouldn’t be sexy, but they struck Nora as such, reminding her of beaches and sunsets.
“Whiskers, this is Nora.” Dotty smiled as if all was right in the world. “She’s going to help us get healthier.”
“Whiskers?” Nora choked out.
“That’s me,” the man said in a weary voice. “I’m Chadwick Summer and for some reason when I was a boy, Grandma Dotty started calling me Whiskers.”
“You had many playdates with your cousin Kitty at my house.” Dotty sniffed as if her rationale should make sense to anyone and everyone. “Chadwick became Wick and evolved to Whiskers. Kitty and Whiskers.”
“Most people call me Chad.” He set an empty coffee cup in the sink and extended his hand to shake.
There was something about the timbre of his voice and the way he moved that awakened a memory inside of Nora.
Oh, no.
It’s him.
Chapter Three
Nora couldn’t move. She could only stare.
This man – my Hamptons mistake – is Mr. Summer, the man Dotty gives fits to.