“The condominium?” I repeat.
Cooke sounds practically giddy when he shouts, “Surprise!”
“Surprise?”
“Just wait.”
My God, seeing the man excited is something else. He’s like a kid on Christmas morning, so I keep my mouth shut as I follow Connie and Cooke down a long hallway, past an indoor pool, a gym, and a large party room.
“This used to be the elementary school,” Connie explains. “It’s been unused for forty years, so the owners bought the building and turned it into beautiful condominiums, as you’ll see, Quinn. They’ve added unique touches in each unit; for example, a portion of an original chalkboard hangs in each entryway.
“Cool.” It really does sound cool. But I’m still wondering why we’re here. I have my suspicions, but I’m afraid to ask.
We approach a brushed stainless-steel elevator and wait as Connie presses the button. Cooke hums as we wait. It doesn’t take long for the ding to sound, and we all enter the small box. Cooke’s size makes it feel much smaller than it really is. Hell, Cooke’s size makesmefeel much smaller than I am. It’s nice for a change.
When we reach the fourth floor, the doors open, and Connie gestures for us to get out first. “To the right, please. It’s number 410.”
We move to 410 and wait for her to unlock it. When she pushes the door open, I gasp. From here I can see floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook Ames. It’s not a New York City or even a Chicago skyline, but it’s still pretty. As I step into the entry, I see the chalkboard she mentioned. It’s framed in old wood to look original. On it, someone has written “Welcome” in chalk. It’s clever.
Moving through the entry hallway, I gasp again when we reach a huge open space with the kitchen of my dreams, a living room with a fireplace, and a spot for a television. The room itself is small but there’s plenty of space for the sofa and chairs they’ve used to stage the place. To the left of the kitchen is a small dining nook.
“There are two bedrooms and two full baths. I’ll wait here in the kitchen while you two explore.”
I slowly turn around, looking up and down. It’s mostly white, but the ceiling is high, maybe twelve feet or more. Part of it is exposed pipes, but part of it is finished in charcoal and white. There’s exposed brick on one wall in the living room, and as we walk around, I see the same brick in both bedrooms as well. But it’s the bathrooms that take my breath away. Both are enormous with attached walk-in closets about the size of my bedroom at the Beedle house. There’s a bathtub and a shower in one and a giant shower with multiple showerheads in the other. I don’t know which one is the best, to be honest. All the finishes are white, and the counters are all white marble like the sign downstairs.
“What do you think, love?”
I choke out a laugh. “It’s frigging gorgeous.”
“You like it?”
I look up at him. “What’s not to like?” I step closer so Connie doesn’t hear me. “But what are we doing here?”
He places his palms on each of my shoulders. He beams as he whispers, “I’m glad you like it, because I’m buying this apartment. For you.”
This time I really do choke. “Huh?” I squeak and cough and sputter all at once. It’s not pretty. “No. You’re not.”
“Yes.” He blinks. “Wait. What?” He looks sincerely confused.
“You’re not buying me a condo.” I feel my chin start to quiver, and then my bottom lip does the same. I can’t control it, damn it.
“Love, you can’t continue to live in that house. It’s not safe.”
My chin wobbling has intensified, and tears threaten to fall. I focus on his face and will them back. “It’s not?”
“Quinn? Love? Are you upset?”
I shrug because I’m not sure why. “It’s… I….” One tear slides down my cheek just as I hear the door close. Connie has stepped out. Good thing, because I’m about to start rambling unintelligibly, and it’s going to be embarrassing enough with only Cooke to see.
“Come here.” Cooke takes my hand and leads me to a fancy sofa that they used to stage the place. He sits, pulling me with him.
When I end up on his lap, I choke, “I’m too heavy.”
“Shh. Now tell me what’s wrong, Quinn.”
So I do. Without taking a breath, I tell him how much I appreciate the offer and that it’s about the nicest, sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, but I like living with the girls even though my bedroom isn’t private, and I’m hoping the owners will do something about the basement, especially since there’s still standing water in some spots down there.
“The water is exactly why it’s not safe. My guess is mold has already begun to grow. Have you called the landlord about it again? Because they should’ve already had that sorted out, love. It’s been almost a week.”
