The air was hazy with dust.
That’s when I saw the smashed countertop leaning against the wall in the entryway. My heart started beating out of my chest.Whowas trashing my place? And why? Even if thieves had broken in, why the hell would they go after my piece-of-crap countertop? I stormed in, more pissed off than scared now.
I froze when I saw the two men struggling to place a new countertop where the old one had been.
A newmarblecountertop.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?” I screamed.
They didn’t answer me as they huffed and puffed to maneuver the counter into position. Once it was where it belonged, the white-haired guy who looked to be at least sixty finally acknowledged me.
“Cyrus the super let us in. We’re just gettin’ started, hon.”
He pointed to the dim common area behind me, and when I turned around, I saw the new glass-front refrigerator, jaw-dropping roquefort blue La Cornue CornuFé 110 Range, and stainless-steel dishwasher.
I had to ask the question even though I already knew the answer.
“Where did all of this come from?”
“Dunno, hun, we’re just doing our job.”
“Ey,la nota,” his partner said, pointing at the envelope on the counter.
“Oh yeah, Cyrus left that for you. Might have some answers there.”
I grabbed it and squeezed through the new appliances to get to the window, so at least I could feel sunshine on my face as I navigated what Harrison Ashford had to say for himself. I took a deep breath before opening the envelope.
Gwen,
I came into your life and made it more difficult in so many ways, and for that I apologize. Please consider this gesture a small way to make your life easier, and more importantly, to bring you joy. Here’s to all the sourdough and quiche you can handle.
Truly,
Harrison
I leaned my forehead against the glass as I processed what it all meant.
Obviously, it was generous. I didn’t even want to try to tally the cost of the improvements, because the oven alone probably retailed for over ten thousand dollars. And as gestures went, it was sweet. Harrison had considered what was important to me and delivered it gift-wrapped and stress-free.
So why did it all feel hollow?
I thought back to my breakfast conversation with my dad. Would he consider the gesture a real, genuine grovel? Maybe at first, sure, but once I peeled back the layers for him, I knew he’d agree with me, and his answer would be a big, fat no.
I looked around at the chaos. It was going to turn my crappy little kitchen into a work of art. I could already see how the improvements were going to transform what and how I baked. At the very least, I needed to thank the man for his creative gift. A text or email felt impersonal. While I had no desire to talk to him, I knew only a phone call would do. I dialed, hoping he’d be too busy to pick up.
“Gwen,” he answered after the first ring, like he’d been waiting for the call. “Hello.”
The great Harrison Ashford sounded…nervous?
“Hi. Your gift is unbelievable. Absolutely beyond. Thank you.”
“Does it all fit? Because I had to engineer the whole thing from memory.”
I glanced at where the men were now sliding the gorgeous new range into the spot where the old one had been.
“Looks like it, yeah. Pretty impressive you could guesstimate that accurately.”
“It was a calculated risk, but it was totally worth it. How does it look?”
