After we atelunch and then visited with Grandpa a little more, I drove Magnolia home. I had been in such a rush this morning that I didn’t pay attention to much, but as we walk up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, I’m horrified.
The hallway is narrow. The carpet is thin, stained, and wrinkled.
It feels as though the walls are closing in around me. The stale smell is a tribute to the days when everyone smoked indoors.
Passing apartment 3B, I hear a TV blaring through the walls. I jump—flinch, I mean—when a dog barks from inside 3C.
Magnolia stops in front of 3A.
She smiles up at me, a curl of blonde hair resting against her cheek. “Thank you for walking me to the door.”
“It’s the least I could do after what you did for me. When you’ve single-handedly saved my butt, wrapped my grandfather around your finger, and thrown the familyinto mayhem, I wish there were more that I could do for you.”
“If you hear of any job openings, that would be great. My expensive mocha habit means I need to get back to work as soon as possible.”
She pounds her fist twice on the doorjamb, and at the same time, she turns the door handle.
The door opens.
“Please don’t tell me that’s how you unlock your door,” I groan.
She smiles brightly and steps inside the apartment. “I did not just unlock my door that way.”
If her landlord doesn’t fix her lock, I will.
When I step inside, I’m pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness. There are rugs thrown on top of the carpet, which probably helps hide any outrageous stains. I slip my shoes off and try to close the door. It takes five tries to get it to latch.
Flopping onto the couch, I pull out my phone and place a quick delivery order for some sturdier locks. Hopefully, they’ll get to my townhouse by tomorrow.
“Make yourself at home,” Magnolia says.
I’m already sitting down. It’s a little too late for that.
“I thought you were just dropping me off?” She phrases it like a question.
“I need to talk to you.”
“That’s what my parents always told me when I was in trouble.”
I confirm the order and then pocket my phone. “Well, this time, I’m the one in trouble.”
She stands there, staring at me, arms folded across her chest. “All right. I’m listening.”
“I have a proposition for you,” I say as I glare at the sorry excuse for a door.
“I may be easy, but I’m not cheap,” she snaps back.
I sigh. “Magnolia, I hope we’re good enough friends that you know that’s not what I mean.”
She nods slowly. “Of course. I meant that I couldn’t possibly accept a lowball offer. I will only settle for…” She pauses as she ticks off her fingers, as though she’s doing a quick calculation in her head. “Minimum wage?”
“Is that a question?”
“Yes.” She shakes her head. “No. I need at least minimum wage if I’m going to be able to afford a weekly mocha habit. See, even I’m willing to cut back during times of economic hardship.”
“Your apartment is held together by duct tape. Have you ever been out of economic hardship?”
She shakes her finger at me. “Look at you, getting all snobby. It’s not a good look on you.”
