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Harry's apartment was depressing. The walls were brown, though I couldn't say for sure if that was the color or the condition. There were piles of stuff everywhere. I did not want to start cleaning up. All I wanted was to grab a shower and crawl into bed.
The bathroom wasn't too bad, though I breathed a sigh of relief when I uncovered a stash of cleaning products under the sink. After cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen sink, I ran some hot water in the sink and washed a few water glasses, so I could at least have something to drink.
I stripped the bed and put on clean sheets I found in the closet. I could hear muffled noises from downstairs, but I was too tired to care. I sat on the edge of the bed and called my mom.
"Hi, Mom. I'm here."
"Oh Sweetie. I'm glad you made it. Is it awful?"
"I don't really know yet. The apartment definitely needs a good cleaning, but I can do that, I just need to get some gloves, so I don't ruin my manicure. I wonder if there's a place in Wilkins’ Gap that does nails."
"Are you safe? Does the door have a strong lock?"
"I'm fine, Mom. I meet with the lawyer tomorrow. I'll call you again soon. Love you, Mama."
"I love you, baby girl. Stay safe."
I propped the pillows up against the headboard and tucked my feet under the covers still wearing my heavy socks. I pulled my laptop over and did an internet search for Idaho lawyer Jim Stafford. I looked through the first few and realized I had no way to know when I found the right one. I had left my portfolio sitting on a kitchen chair I'd pulled over close to the bed, but apparently not close enough. When I leaned over the side of the bed and stretched to reach for the bag, I fell out of bed with a thud. After spewing a few words that my mother wouldn't even admit were part of the English language, I tried to get up and realized my feet were tangled in the blankets. I was laughing so hard it took a while for me to realize someone was pounding on my door.
"Are you OK in there?" a deep voice asked. "If you don't answer, I'm going to break the door down, so I can check on you."
"I'm fine. Please don't break my door," I said. "Give me a minute."
It took a minute for me to untangle my feet. When I pulled the door opened, I was face to face with a gorgeous man. He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Jim. Sorry to bother you. I was downstairs when we heard a crash. I thought I should make sure you were OK."
I shook his hand. "Thanks for your concern, but as you can see," I said, sweeping my hand over my body, "I'm fine." I saw a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. When I looked down, I realized I was wearing fleece pajama pants covered in teddy bears, an oversized Georgia Bulldogs hoodie, and multi-colored toe socks.
"Yes, I can see that," he said, barely hiding his amusement. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He looked around the room. "I'm guessing you'll be making some changes up here."
"Probably. If I decide to stay. Well, sorry I disturbed everyone downstairs. Thanks for checking on me, but I'd like to get to bed." I saw the slight raise to his eyebrows at my comment, and I felt myself blush.
"Sure. Sorry," he said.
"Good night, Jim. See you around."
I listened as his footsteps descended the stairs. I realized I was still smiling. That wasn't something I'd done much of lately. Fudge. I didn't even get his last name. As I wondered who Jim, concerned citizen, was, I realized that if he was a regular at the cafe, our paths would cross again. I fell asleep dreaming of ways to redecorate my new apartment.