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Icheck to ensure I’mas prim and proper as ever in my rearview mirror—my hair perfectly in place and my pale pink lipstick smudge-free.Once I climb out of my car, I smooth down my skirt and adjust the lace collar on my white blouse.
I purse my lips, signaling that I mean business, and turn to glance up at the magnificent building in front of me.The sidewalks are immaculate—no vendors and not a scrap of paper on the polished stone ground.An engraved brass plaque, entwined with roses and lions, reads "The Kings Fort" in elegant script.Of course.
I step into the private recessed entrance, where tall planters of black stone with gold veining hold glossy leaves that look almost artificial, lining either side of the entry.
As I pass through the revolving door, a cool, softly scented breeze greets me.The lobby is vast, featuring marble flooring, dizzyingly high ceilings, mahogany finishes, and priceless art.A crystal waterfall stands in the center, its melodic sound soothing.
I greet the impeccably dressed doorman in his livery-like suit and march up to the concierge sitting behind a desk that gleams so much I can see my reflection in it.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the young-looking man says, standing up.“How may I assist you today?”
“Hello,” I say, glancing at the name tag pinned to his jacket.Oscar Turner.“Oscar,” I continue, “My name is Genevieve Quinn, and I’d like to see Mr.and Mrs.Grant, please.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t a Mr.and Mrs.Grant here, Ms.Quinn.”
“Yes, there is,” I insist, determined not to be deterred.“This is very important.I’m here to talk to them about their son.I’m Jake’s first-grade teacher at Valley Bright Elementary.”
“Oh, Jake’s parents.They aren’t here,” he responds before his eyes light up.“Wait a minute.Did Carver send you?He did, right?He told me to be on the lookout for you.”
“I don’t know a Carver, and no one sent me.I’m here on my own accord regarding their son.”
“Oh, okay.Okay,” he says, drawing out the "okay" for a full breath.What is going on right now?
“Oh, you’re good.An uptight teacher?Brilliant,” Oscar remarks, then winks awkwardly at me.
What a strange man.
“Ah, they’re going to love you, Ms.Quinn,” he adds, winking again.“Carver said to take you right up immediately.Come on, I’ll take you myself.”
I have no clue what all that was about, but it doesn’t matter if my objective is being achieved.He’s taking me to see the elusive Grants.
“So how long have you been into it?”he asks.
“Into what?”I frown.
“Making house calls as a teacher,” he replies, winking again.
“This is my first time.”I’ve never had a reason to visit parents before.All my students’ families so far have been lovely people.I love my job—or perhaps I just want to make my parents proud.Anyway, I’m here now, and I enjoy it.
“Wow.First time?You’re that new as a teacher?”Again with the damn wink as we step into a gold- and chrome-plated elevator.My stomach drops as we ascend to the penthouse.
“Just because I look young doesn’t mean I lack experience, Oscar.Ask my students’ parents,” I say haughtily.
“You do the kids' parents?”Oscar asks incredulously, his eyes widening.But before I can analyze that weird conversation further, we step off the luxury elevator into a corridor and stand before a huge white double door, embossed with gold.
I’m completely shocked when Oscar uses his key card to open the door instead of knocking and waiting to be allowed in.That feels like such an invasion of privacy, and I have a mind to tell him so, but he ushers me into a foyer that resembles a space dome.The ceiling is glass, and the white marble floor gleams so brightly that I tighten my legs, worried the tiles might see under my skirt.
I turn to address the strange concierge, but he’s already closing the door behind me, leaving me alone in the Grants’ apartment.
Well, I’m here now.Seeing the Grants is all that matters.I’ll have this wrapped up and be gone before Jake returns home from swimming lessons.
“Hello,” I say tentatively, walking carefully across the slippery tiles to avoid falling on my behind, despite my sensible three-inch heels.
“Mr.and Mrs.Grant,” I call out as I step into the empty living space.The theme is consistent: stark white furniture and marble floors.
It’s so pristine that I can’t help but wonder if a first grader actually lives here.But then again, what do I know about how rich people live?This is my first time stepping into a penthouse.
