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Carlos Angelo, a sixty-two-year-old Italian man, worked as an elevator operator at a luxury apartment complex in Lower Manhattan. When he moved to America forty years ago, it was his first and only job. Carlos, dressed in a red uniform with gold trim, had spent his day operating the levers and opening the gates of his wood-paneled cab, shuttling tenants up and down twenty stories. It was the last of New York’s few skyscrapers with an elevator operator.
Some people believe being an elevator operator was straightforward, and just hitting the button up and down all day without resulting in innovative work. Sure, it may be a little boring, but Carlos loved his job and wouldn’t exchange it for the world. He was a natural charmer who didn’t strive to be anything other than himself. Carlos was kind and inviting, with a genuine smile on his face, and he was ready to interact with everyone he met. Even if it was only for a minute, he engaged them in pleasant conversation. He received several exceptional customer service awards for his dedication to his career and upbeat personality. There was no one else like him.
They stationed Carlos in elevator three for the morning rush hour. Carlos was ready to start his shift. He had several favorite residents in the building.
The fifteenth-floor bell rang. Miss Bower was forty-two years old, single, and lived with two pet cats named Angel and Binx. She worked as an ad executive for an advertising firm, and she was always on the go, with little time for a date or romance. Carlos was likely the only male in her life. She trusted him enough to give him a key to her apartment, so he could monitor her cats while she was away.
"Good morning, Miss Bower," Carlos cheerfully said as he came to a halt on her floor.
"Ah! Good morning, Carlos," she said in response. "Isn’t this a gorgeous day?"
"A beautiful day, indeed!"
"Would you mind checking on Angel and Binx, Carlos? They’ve been behaving oddly recently."
"Sure, I’ll check up on them during my lunch break."
"I appreciate it, Carlos. I’m not sure what I’ll do without you," she murmured as she exited.
The 17th floor bell rang. He grinned. It was Edith, a sixty-one-year-old widow. Her husband had died ten years before, and she had never married again. Christopher was her son. He and his wife, Melody, paid her a visit once a month, accompanied by her two spoiled grandkids, who disliked her. The elevator ride was the only thing the children found enjoyable in the building.
"It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?" Carlos said to Edith. Carlos had feelings for her since the day she moved into the building five years ago. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Edith was refined, while he was only an elevator operator. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it a secret from her.
Edith nodded, recognizing what he had stated. "Yes, it is a beautiful day today."
On the sixteenth floor, the elevator came to a halt, and a guy entered.
"Mr. Jefferson, good morning," Carlos remarked. "Are you going to work?"
"Yes, Carlos. One of my employees called. One piece of equipment isn’t working. I’ll have to look into it."
"Please let me know if you need my help," Carlos said.
"Thank you, but I’m sure it’s nothing."
Mr. Jefferson, a tall, bald guy in his early fifties, owned a pizza parlor a few blocks away. He was married to Mrs. Jessica Jefferson, who was also in her early fifties and helped run her husband’s business. Mrs. Jefferson volunteered at an orphanage on weekends because they had no children. They longed for a child, but God had other plans for them. She even organized a fundraising campaign so that every kid at the orphanage could have their favorite clothes and gifts for the holidays. Mrs. Jefferson regularly involved him in her charitable activities. She considered him a close friend.
Mr. Tripper lived on the twelfth floor. He was a former Army general, divorced, and the father of three children. He used to be full of life, but after a stroke, nothing was the same. His children had only visited him once in three months, leaving him lonely for his grandkids. Mr. Tripper felt unhappy while seated in his wheelchair. He had secluded himself, never left his apartment, and had only ordered from the market, which had provided what he needed. Carlos delivered his morning newspaper at precisely seven o’clock in the morning and picked up his mail in the afternoon. Apart from his children and grandkids, Carlos was the only person allowed in Mr. Tripper’s apartment.
Thanks to his wealthy parents, who had purchased it as a birthday present a year earlier, Michael Hamilton, who was just twenty-two years old, already had his own apartment on the tenth floor. Carlos had to turn a blind eye, because he had a different date every night. Although Michael was a womanizer, he was friendly towards him and even gave him gifts for no reason.
Blair and Joe Ramsey, together with their two children, Melissa and Cindy, lived on the eighteenth floor. Blair ran a flower shop on Fifth Avenue, while Joe worked as a stockbroker on Wall Street. They constantly invited him to their parties, whether with family or business acquaintances.
Then there were Tilly and Dusty Bonaventura, residents on the twentieth floor, a globe-trotting, multi-millionaire power couple who were influential leaders in philanthropy in their own right. They moved into the building a few years ago when Dusty bought the apartment for his wife as a wedding present, but they never stayed more than a week. They had various homes around the country, but their primary residence was a million-dollar estate in East Hampton. It was Tilly's family home since she was a young child. Tilly's parents had been gone for a few years, and Dusty was pleased with her decision to make the house their permanent residence. Carlos’ favorite people in the building were Dusty and Tilly. They were exceedingly generous, especially around the holidays, and treated him as if he were a member of their family.
***
IT WAS A WONDERFUL day in New York. Mrs. Jefferson entered the apartment building carrying several shopping bags. To her astonishment, the doorman was not around. Carlos had just returned from his lunch break when he noticed Mrs. Jefferson struggling to open the door. He dashed towards the door and flung it open. As they headed to the elevator, he took the bags from her grasp.
"How are you, Mrs. Jefferson? Have you had a good day so far?" Carlos inquired as he pushed the sixteenth-floor button.
"It’s already been a fantastic day for me. My husband and I agreed to foster a child for the holiday season. They called while I was out shopping, and they’re coming over tonight to talk to us and perhaps snoop around our house," Mrs. Jefferson joked.
“That’s great. I’m confident you and Mr. Jefferson will ace the interview."
"I hope so, too, Carlos. Unfortunately, Mr. Jefferson is not in town. He wants to be here, but he can’t get an early flight home and won’t make it in time."
"Oh, that’s a shame."
"Say, Carlos, what time do you get off work today?"
"Around 5 p.m. Why did you ask?"
"I’m nervous and I’m at a loss about what to do. I could use your help. Do you think you could come by and keep me company? I’m worried I’ll make a mistake because Mr. Jefferson isn’t here."
"Well, I suppose I could drop by for a few minutes."
"Wonderful, that settles it. We’ll eat supper together. I’ll prepare my special lasagna."
"That sounds great. I haven’t eaten a decent, home-cooked meal in a long time."
"Seriously? I assumed all Italians loved to cook," Mrs. Jefferson said. "You don’t cook for yourself when you come home?"
"Oh, I love to cook, especially Italian food. But the last thing I want to do when I get home is cook for myself. It’s not enjoyable to dine alone. So, I make do with sandwiches, soup, and crackers occasionally."
"Well, tonight you will not eat alone."
Carlos grinned. For a change, it would be good to have dinner with a friend. He had clocked out early and whistled as he prepared to leave. Carlos checked himself in the mirror on the wall, before taking the elevator to the sixteenth floor. He knocked, and Mrs. Jefferson opened it. She grinned.
"You’ve arrived just in time, Carlos. I was just informed by the desk clerk that a lady from the orphanage was on her way up here."
"That’s excellent. How can I help?" Carlos inquired as he stepped into the kitchen.
"Everything is under control. Just sit down and relax," Mrs. Jefferson remarked as she stepped into the kitchen and began preparing the dinner table. Her hands were trembling with nerves.
Carlos noticed it. "Please relax, Mrs. Jefferson. It’s only an interview, not an execution," he laughed.
"I’m so scared, I’m not sure if I should sit or lie down. Fostering a child during the holidays is important to us."
"Don’t worry, everything is going to be OK. I promise."
Mrs. Jefferson eventually calmed down.
A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. Mrs. Jefferson hurried to the door, and Carlos motioned for her to relax. Mrs. Jefferson took a deep breath before opening the door.
"Mrs. Jefferson?" the lady said, presenting herself as Mrs. Darlene Miller from the orphanage.
"Yes, I’m Mrs. Jefferson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Miller."
The ladies shook hands.
"And this is Carlos, my friend," Mrs. Jefferson added.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller," Carlos remarked. He extended his hand to shake her hand.
Mrs. Miller smiled as they shook hands. "It’s also a pleasure to meet you."
"Shall we start with dinner?" Mrs. Jefferson stated.
"Oh, you shouldn’t have bothered," Mrs. Miller said.
"It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Miller. We haven’t had company in a long time. I’m sorry my husband isn’t here. He wanted to be here, but he’s on a business trip. He couldn’t book an early flight back home and won’t make it in time."
Mrs. Jefferson made a gesture for Mrs. Miller and Carlos to take their places at the table, and they did so. There was a lovely spread of lasagna, bread, and a green salad. Everyone enjoyed a hearty meal. The interview began after they had finished their meal.
Mrs. Miller remarked, "I understand, Mrs. Jefferson, that you and your husband have never fostered a child before."
"That’s right, this will be our first."
"When did you and your husband decide to become foster parents?"
"We have tried for a long time to have our own children, but we have not been blessed with one. My husband and I run a successful business together. We live in this large apartment, but have no one to share it with. We thought this Christmas we could share our good fortune with an orphan child and make him or her happy. All we want is to bring joy and happiness into a child’s life."
"Have you ever raised a child before?"
"I, like my husband, am an only child."
Mrs. Bradley nodded and scribbled something in her notebook.
"Mrs. Jefferson, are you forgetting that you’ve been babysitting Melissa and Cindy?" Carlos, who was listening, interjected.
"You’re absolutely correct. I’d forgotten about them."
"Who are Melissa and Cindy?" Mrs. Miller asked.
"They’re our neighbors from the eighteenth floor. Melissa is eight years old, and Cindy is six. Their parents work downtown, and when they have to be someplace else and can’t bring their children, I babysit for them."
"How did that go?" Mrs. Miller had inquired.
"Watching those children inspired us to become foster parents."
Mrs. Jefferson received a wink from Carlos.
Mrs. Miller informed her that the interview was over a few moments later. She stated she would hear from them. Despite Carlos's assurances, Mrs. Jefferson was dubious whether she had passed the interview or not. It would have been nice if her husband could have been there to support her.
