The Apartment Read online

  “I know you’re so afraid of her finding out about me that I dare not answer the phone.”

  “I’m not afraid of my mother.”

  “Heaven forbid she learns her sweet little girl is living with a man.” His voice raised in a strained falsetto.

  “Leave my mother out of this,” Hilary cried, stamping her slipper-covered foot.

  “Gladly. If she’s anything like you, I’d prefer not knowing anything about her.”

  Hilary wrapped her hands around her middle to ward off the chill his words produced. He was right. As much as she wanted to be on her own, live her life as she chose, she remained tied to the apron strings.

  She was worried about her mother finding out about Sean. It shouldn’t matter what Louise thought. But why was Hilary so concerned? There certainly wasn’t anything romantic going on between Sean and her.

  What troubled her more was what Sean said about her being a neat-freak. Her mother was like that. All her life, Hilary had hated being constantly followed around and picked up after. Now she found herself doing the very same thing. It boggled her mind.

  “You keep me up half the night practicing that flute of yours, then complain if I so much as turn on the television,” Sean continued.

  “All right, then let’s end it right now,” Hilary stormed, slicing the air with a karate-chop motion that was so full of anger she nearly lost her balance. “I’ll move. Gladly. If you wanted me out of here, then congratulate yourself, because you’ve succeeded. Write me out a check for the deposit and my fair share of the rent—then I’ll be more than happy to make other arrangements.”

  Sean went silent. He lifted the towel dangling from his neck and wiped the perspiration from his face. “I don’t have it.”

  “You don’t have it,” Hilary echoed, and to her horror her voice cracked. “Then what am I supposed to do now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re making it impossible to live here.”

  “Living with you hasn’t exactly been a bowl of cherries, either,” he growled.

  “But I don’t fiddle around with your radio station.”

  “I didn’t use your shaver on my legs,” he snapped.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose—I thought it was my own.”

  “How was I supposed to know three tiny shrimp on a bed of lettuce was your entire dinner?” Sean asked, his voice growing less irritated. “Admit it, there’ve been sins committed on both sides. What you said earlier makes a lot of sense.”

  “About me moving?”

  “No,” he said reluctantly. “That we call a truce. We’re both mature adults—at least, I’d like to think we are.”

  “So would I,” she murmured, surprised to realize her hands were trembling. She hid them behind her back, not wanting Sean to notice.

  “We can make this work if we’re both willing to put forth the effort,” he said after an elongated sigh. “Are you willing to give this another try?”

  Hilary nodded slowly, hesitantly. “All right.”

  “Good, then I will, too. It won’t be for much longer—just how long can five weeks last?”

  “I don’t think I want to know,” she muttered under her breath. There wasn’t time to discuss this armistice, since she had to be at work within the hour. Twice a week she went directly from work at the music shop to the symphony. She wasn’t sure if Sean had figured out her schedule yet. On her way out the door, she hesitated.

  Sean was seated at the table, eating a gigantic breakfast of eggs, toast, fruit and cereal. In one meal he consumed more food than she downed in a week.

  “I’ll…be late tonight,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound defensive. “I have practice with the symphony after work… I thought it might work better if we let each other know our schedules.”

  “Good idea. So, you won’t be home until late, then?”

  Hilary nodded. “Sometime around eleven.”

  He nodded. “It makes for a long day, doesn’t it?”

  Hilary smiled. “I don’t mind. I really love what I do.”

  Sean set aside his fork and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “You’re good at it, too. I don’t have much of an ear for music, but I can’t help hearing you practice nights. It’s really beautiful.”

  Hilary couldn’t keep from smiling. “A compliment, Sean?”

  He looked mildly surprised at himself. “Yeah. You’re one hell of a musician.”

  “Thank you. And you’re one heck of a…a muscle man.”

  He grinned almost boyishly. “In other words, if I don’t find a job soon, I could always get hired as a bouncer.”

  Hilary laughed. “Sure, why not?”

  Sean returned her laugh with a wide smile, and Hilary couldn’t help responding with one of her own.

  “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asked gently.

  “No.” Hilary didn’t have a clue how Sean kept himself occupied. It was one reason she’d volunteered the information about her work schedule. She’d never asked what he did and he’d never volunteered the information. If they were ever going to form a bridge of trust with one another, it would be now. She hesitated, not wanting to ask, yet yearning to know.

  “I’ve got a job interview at one o’clock,” he said, his gaze linking with hers. “It looks promising.”

  Hilary felt a load lift from her heart. With effort they could learn to be friends. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Hilary was reluctant to leave. It was the first cordial conversation they’d had in a week. Sean had never smiled at her before, as best as she could remember. He had a nice smile. Very nice. His dark eyes had sparkled, and Hilary swore it was like seeing lightning cut through a thundercloud.

  * * *

  She wasn’t so bad, Sean mused after Hilary had left the apartment. Ironically, the things that had irritated him most about her were the same ones that intrigued him. True, she practiced the flute until all hours of the night, but he admired her dedication and her discipline. Those were qualities he’d cultivated himself and admired in others.

  From the first, he’d viewed Hilary as a prig, but he might have misjudged her. Until this morning at breakfast, he couldn’t remember them sharing a single conversation where the main objective wasn’t to point out each other’s faults.

  Although she tried not to show it, Sean knew calling Hilary Her Highness made her furious. He had to admire the way she held her temper. She rarely raised her voice, rarely let on that she was upset. If it weren’t for the way she tucked a strand of hair around her ear, he might have had some trouble reading her. Naw, he corrected: she was Dick and Jane and Spot all over again.

  Hilary was also lovely, in a delicate sort of way. She was a fragile beauty, the kind of woman men liked to pamper. He’d never been interested in that sort himself. He liked his women with a little more flesh on their bones, the ones who were a little less demanding.

  Nor was he keen on her penchant for neatness. He’d lived the past ten years of his life under military rule. If he wanted to keep his shoes in the living room, that was his right. He hadn’t been amused when she’d picked up his dirty socks with a pair of kitchen tongs and carried them into the laundry room. Okay, so they smelled a bit, but she had clearly overreacted. It wasn’t as though they were a cesspool holding live ebola virus.

  He liked her. Or he’d come close to it for the first time. True, living in such close proximity was going to take effort on both their parts, but they could make this work, and be better for the experience.

  Hilary Wadsworth had taught him a good deal about the opposite sex that he’d been ignorant of before meeting her. It was better to have learned these lessons with a woman he wasn’t emotionally involved with than someone he cared about.

  When the time came, he’d find an apartment of his own, but he hoped that when he left he’d still be on friendly terms with Hilary. For the first time there was a chance.

  A good chance.

  * * *


  Hilary was anxious to arrive home. Her schedule on Tuesdays and Thursdays was the most demanding. Her days were long, and she generally didn’t take time to eat dinner before rehearsal, so she was ravenous by the time she arrived back at the apartment. Which meant her mood was a cross between that of a bobcat and a porcupine.

  This evening, however, she’d taken time for soup and a small salad before hurrying to the music hall. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was so anxious to get home.

  That morning had been a turning point for her and Sean. They’d both felt it. Hilary hoped they could continue in this vein. It’d help matters tremendously if they could be civil with one another.

  When she neared the apartment, she noted several vehicles parked out front. She saw Sean’s truck, which had arrived the day before, but there were two other cars she didn’t readily recognize.

  Not sure what to expect, she let herself into the house. Sean was sitting at the kitchen table with three other men, all about the same age. They were playing cards. Several open bottles of beer were on the tabletop, along with uneven stacks of red, blue and white chips.

  No one was aware of her presence.

  “Sean, I’d like to talk to you,” she said quietly, walking into the kitchen. Her heart was pounding like a giant turbine. So much for their new start! So much for the new communication between them. She was furious.

  He looked up from his cards and a shocked look came over his face. “Hilary…what are you doing home?”

  “I happen to live here, remember?”

  Her announcement was followed by a couple of whistles and catcalls. “She lives here?”

  “Leave it to Cochran to get himself a woman.”

  “Not bad, buddy, not bad at all.”

  “Sean, can we talk…privately?” she asked, ignoring his friends’ comments.

  He followed her into the laundry room. “I thought you said you were going to be late tonight.”

  “I am late. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s nearly ten.”

  “But…what about dinner out with your friends?”

  “I ate earlier. Who are those men?” she demanded, pointing toward the kitchen. “And what are they doing here?”

  “I should think that much is obvious. We’re playing poker. Now, listen, I know you’re upset—”

  “You might have checked with me first. It would have been the courteous thing to do.”

  Sean sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right, but I didn’t expect you’d be back for another hour.”

  “So you think it’s fine to bring strangers into my apartment without letting me know?” she asked primly.

  “It’s my apartment, too.”

  “I’d never pull this kind of stunt without checking with you.”

  “Stunt,” he flared. “Come on, Hilary, you’re overreacting again.”

  “Again?”

  One of his beer-drinking, card-playing, T-shirt-clad buddies called from the kitchen, “Hey, Sean, the phone’s ringing, you want me to catch it?”

  “No,” Sean shouted impatiently.

  His friend had the receiver to his ear before Hilary or Sean could stop him. “Joe’s Massage Parlor,” he joked. “Women are our specialty.”

  Hilary closed her eyes and leaned against the washing machine.

  “Joe,” Sean barked, “give me the receiver.”

  “No,” Hilary cried, springing to life.

  Before either of them reached Joe, he replaced the phone. “Not to worry,” he said with a saucy grin. “It was a wrong number. Some old lady from Frisco looking for her daughter. Your name doesn’t happen to be Hilary, does it?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Hello, Mom,” Hilary said when the phone promptly rang a second time. “This is an unexpected surprise…especially so late.”

  “A young man answered this number only a moment ago. Who was that?”

  “Young man…oh, you mean…Sean,” she said, glaring at her roommate. It would be impossible to explain Joe to her mother. Besides, it was Sean’s fault, anyway. Naturally her mother had her phone on automatic dial so there wasn’t any chance of convincing her she’d gotten the wrong number. “He’s my…neighbor.” Hilary turned her back on Sean and his friends. She could hear them quietly picking up their things and shuffling toward the door, guided, no doubt, by her black-hearted roommate.

  “Neighbor, you say,” her mother repeated slowly. “Is he handsome?”

  “Mother, please. We were talking, and when the phone rang I asked Sean if he’d mind getting it for me. He’s something of a clown.”

  “So I gathered.” Her mother’s voice dipped softly. “I’m beginning to think your move to Portland might have been a good idea after all.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Hilary said tightly, realizing her mother was using reverse psychology. If Louise could convince Hilary moving to Portland was such a good idea, then her daughter might have a change of heart and return home. It was a ploy Louise had used all too often.

  “Don’t you miss me even a little?” Louise pleaded.

  “Of course, but…”

  “Remember the good times we had sitting up and chatting while we watched the eleven-o’clock news? You used to like those tiny marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

  “Mother, I was ten years old!”

  “I know…it’s just that I can’t sit through the newscast anymore without getting teary eyed. I worry about you living all alone.”

  If only her mother knew.

  “We used to be so close.”

  Hilary missed those times with her mother as well, but not enough to consider returning to San Francisco. She was adjusting to her new life, a new schedule. She was adjusting to a man!

  “I’m getting along just fine. There’s no need to worry about me,” Hilary said, hoping to reassure her mother and at the same time terminate the conversation before it dragged on.

  “I’ve only phoned once since you moved out. I got your letter this afternoon, but somehow it’s not the same.”

  “I’ve been busy, Mother. Time got away from me.”

  “You’re working too hard, aren’t you, Princess? I bet you’re not eating properly, either.”

  “Mom,” Hilary said shortly, “could you stop being a mother, just for once?”

  “Stop being a mother,” Louise repeated in a low, pain-filled voice. “I…don’t know that I can.”

  “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a woman and I’d appreciate being treated like one.” The time away from home gave her the courage to speak boldly.

  “I see.” Her mother’s voice dipped softly.

  Hilary resisted a sigh of regret. She didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but it seemed the only way to reach her parent. “It isn’t like I need to be tucked into bed every night.”

  “I know, it’s just that I miss you so much.”

  Hilary was growing tired of the argument. “If you’re phoning past ten, I assume you must have a good reason.”

  “Well, yes…I’ve got a small surprise for you. I thought I’d fly up to Portland to be with you on Mother’s Day. That is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t,” Hilary said, feeling increasingly guilty over her outburst.

  “I realize you can’t be with me because the symphony’s performing, so it makes sense for me to come to you. I’ve already booked my flight, but I realize now that was a bit presumptuous of me.”

  “Not in the least. I’ll look forward to your visit.”

  “I’m so pleased,” Louise went on to say. “I got your letter this afternoon and felt just terrible that we’d be apart on Mother’s Day. It wasn’t until later that I realized if you couldn’t come to me, then I could visit you. I booked my flight and then waited until I thought you’d be home this evening.”

  “We’ll have a good time, Mom.”

  “I know we will, Princess. You can show me your apartment, and we’ll sit and drink hot chocolate just the way we used to. We’ll have all kinds of fun.�
��

  “That sounds wonderful, Mom,” Hilary said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against the wall. They ended the conversation a few minutes later.

  The silence behind Hilary told her Sean had managed to clear his buddies out of the apartment.

  “You were a little hard on her, weren’t you?” Sean said when he saw that Hilary had finished.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t need to be so defensive with her.”

  “I wasn’t defensive,” she snapped, unwilling to admit she probably had been. “You don’t understand,” she added, pleading with him. “My mother wants to dictate my life.”

  Sean continued to clear off the kitchen table, stacking the chips in a round container. “I guess you’re right. My own mother died when I was small—I barely remember her.”

  “Did your father remarry?”

  Sean nodded. “I never got along much with my stepmother.”

  “She smothers me with her love.”

  Sean’s lips thinned slightly and he nodded, but Hilary could sense his censure. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. He didn’t have a clue as to how oppressed she’d felt the last couple of years.

  He slipped the deck of cards into the slot in the chip holder. “About the poker game—”

  “Yes,” she broke in, hands on her hips. “Let’s talk about you bringing complete strangers into my home.”

  His jaw muscles tightened. “Are you looking for an argument, Hilary? Because I’ll be happy to give you one.”

  She deflated her chest and slowly shook her head. They had made the first steps toward friendship, and she didn’t want to crush that.

  Sean sighed and shook his head. “You’re right. I probably shouldn’t have invited my buddies over, but I didn’t figure it was any big deal.”

  “It wasn’t,” she admitted slowly.

  He cocked his head slightly to one angle as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “I should have cleared it with you first.”

  “I shouldn’t have made such a fuss,” she whispered, her voice wobbling. Exhausted to the core, Hilary walked over to a wall calendar and flipped to the following month.

  “Hil, what’s wrong?” How gentle he sounded, how concerned.