“Now that you know the owner, just say the word. I have a table in the back corner reserved for me that can accommodate friends at a moment’s notice.”
“Noted.” She nods. “I might have to take you up on that offer, because this is the best grilled chicken I’ve ever had in my life. The smoky and charred taste is out of this world. Don’t get me started on the charred carrots drizzled with honey or Number 22’s house bread and the marinated mixed olives we had for starters.”
“Glad to hear we have a new fan.”
“Definitely.”
“Open fire cooking makes all the difference.”
“I believe you.” Her eyes roam around the kitchen. “For someone who lived in a dilapidated and stinky basement micro apartment only a few hours ago, your oasis on a quiet street in Brooklyn Heights is idyllic—” She shakes her head. “Wow. From Jamaica, Queens to Brooklyn Heights in one day. Talk about moving up in the world.”
“Nothing wrong with taking the express train.”
“You can take the All-Star hockey player off the ice, but you can’t take the winner’s attitude out of him.”
“Professional hazard. It’s in my DNA.”
She smiles. “I’ve heard of the historical stables dating back to the 1840s turned into multimillion-dollar homes located in picturesque Grace Court Alley. I even walked by a few carriage houses in Greenwich Village, but I’ve never been inside one. This isn’t what I expected.” She stares up at the original beams interspaced with track lighting and hanging, sphere-shaped lights. “The juxtaposition of modern and old is stunning.”
“The renovation was supposed to take six to nine months, but it ended up being over a year. It was worth it. I love my carriage house. To your point, I applauded the designer for keeping old beams that weren’t sound enough as ceiling beams to use them for open concept shelving.”
Since Harley passed out like a light when we got to my place, I didn’t have time to give her a tour. To alleviate the unease after the job proposition she hasn’t accepted yet, I suggested I show her around. Given the time, it made sense for us to have dinner after that.
“I agree,” she says. “But I think my second favorite feature is the fact the entire back wall—made of floor-to-ceiling windows—opens up and leads to a sprawling terrace.” She points to it. “What a treat to enjoy dinner under the stars in early May.”
“The best part is that, at this time of the year, the bugs aren’t out yet.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“You said the folding glass door is your second favorite feature. What’s number one?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“I have many talents, Harley, but I’m no mind reader.”
“It’s good to know you have shortcomings,” she says.
It’s a long list, sweetheart, but glad to know you hold me in such high esteem.
“The fourteen-foot ceilings on the first level, which doubles as your home office-slash-den-slash-garage, are impressive, but they pale in comparison to the massive, sunken fire pit wrapped in gunmetal gray steel and glass that drops down from the backyard, which is the focal point of your three-level carriage house.” She points to it. “That’s a showstopper.”
“The sunken fire pit isn’t only for aesthetics. It allows sunlight to pour in from the massive skylight to the lower level. Other than the three windows at the top of the tall garage door, there are no windows in that space, for privacy reasons.”
“I had one small window in the dungeon I no longer live in, so I totally understand your desire not to feel like you’re trapped in a tomb.”
“Speaking of which, did your landlord get back to you?”
She shakes her head. “No, not yet.”
“You need to be relentless. You want to break out of your lease without penalty.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I could bulldozer my way into getting her landlord’s attention, but given the violation of her privacy, this complaint needs to come from a woman.
“Did you buy the carriage house before you were married?” She changes the subject.
“Yes, I did. During our three-month marriage, it was in full renovation, which is why I moved in with Devlyn.” I wish I had known when I said ‘I do’ that her grown ass son would camp at his mother’s house, despite the fact he had his own penthouse.
