“Of course,” I said quickly. “That makes sense.”
“Due to the nature of my . . . business, I am out of the apartment most nights and must sleep during the daytime.” He paused, taking in my reaction. “Generally speaking, I rest between the hours of five in the morning and five in the evening, although those precise times will likely fluctuate over the coming months. When I am sleeping, it is imperative that I be allowed to rest undisturbed.”
My mind snagged on the due to the nature of my business part of what he’d just said. My grasp of what CEOs and other rich business-types actually did for a living was mostly limited to what I’d seen on television—but even still I was pretty sure night shifts weren’t a regular thing for business bros.
He must be some sort of doctor, then. Doctors worked nights, right?
Either way, asking me to stay out of his room seemed fair.
“It’s your bedroom,” I said. “I get it.”
That seemed to please him. A smile spread across his face. “I’m glad you agree.”
“What’s the other room I can’t go into?”
“Ah. Right.” He pointed towards what looked like a closet at the end of the hallway. “That one.”
I frowned. “What’s in there?”
“The answer to that question is also off-limits.”
Okay—that freaked me out a little. Maybe Frederick was a murderer after all. “It’s not . . . dead people, is it?”
His eyes went wide. “Dead people?” He looked horrified, putting his hand to his chest in a way that reminded me of an old lady clutching her pearls. “God’s thumbs, Miss Greenberg! Why would you think I had dead people in my hall closet?”
He seemed to be taking the joke a bit too seriously. “Fine, no dead people. Can you at least tell me if whatever’s in there is dangerous?”
“Let’s just say I have a rather . . . embarrassing hobby.” He looked down at his feet, as though his shiny wing-tipped shoes were suddenly the most interesting things in the room. “I may one day divulge that closet’s contents with the person sharing my apartment. But if I do, it must be on my terms, at a time and in a manner I see fit.” He looked up at me again. “I will not disclose its contents today.”
“You collect lace doilies, don’t you?” I don’t know what possessed me to tease him like this. But the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You have hundreds of them in that closet.”
The corner of his mouth twitched a little, like he was trying hard to fight a smile.
“No,” he said. “I do not collect lace doilies.”
He didn’t elaborate. This time I had the good sense to let the matter drop. I shrugged and said, “Either way, it’s fine. It’s your stuff, and your apartment. So, your rules.”
“Should you move in, I do hope you come to think of this as your home as well.” He stepped closer to me, dark brown eyes searching mine. His eyelashes were so long and lush, and his gaze was so penetrating, I could feel my knees going weak. He really was unfairly attractive. “Other than those two limitations you will have full, unrestricted use of this apartment.”
I swallowed, trying to regulate my breathing. “I . . . I think I can live with that.”
“Wonderful.” This time, he allowed his smile to stretch across his entire face. “Now with that out of the way—shall we tour the apartment?”
THREE
Text messages between Mr. Frederick J. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Reginald R. Cleaves
Good evening, Reginald.
Hey Freddie my boy what’s up
Several things are “up.”
First, I wanted to inform you that I have shredded, and disposed of, that hideous welcome mat I found in front of my door yesterday.
I assume you are the one who put it there?
Awww you didn’t like it?
Of course I didn’t like it you buffoon.
But I spent so much time picking out a gift I thought you’d love
I doubt very seriously that that is the case.
But never mind.
The primary reason I am typing to you now on my infuriatingly tiny cellular telephone screen is to inform you that someone replied to the Craigslist advertisement you placed for me.
She will be moving in over the weekend.
Hey thats great
There is only one problem.
My new roommate is not at all what I had been expecting.
In what way
First, she is a woman. Which I knew, of course, when she replied to my advertisement and I saw her name.
I have nothing against women, as you know. I have also come to understand through my review of the newspapers and magazines you have brought me that in the present era it is not unheard of for unmarried men and women to live together.
So: while a bit disconcerting, I am not overly concerned that she is a woman.
My primary concern is that she is a woman who may not be entirely normal.
And you ARE normal?
That is a fair point.
I thought so
I simply worry that this will not work if my new roommate is someone who thinks it appropriate to arrive to an appointment with disheveled hair and ragged, paint-splattered clothing.
I think itll be fine
Also, she smiles rather a lot, which I find somewhat
I don’t know
Distracting.
Distracting huh?
Distracting as in . . . the woman we met that one night in Paris, distracting?
You certainly have a lot of nerve bringing that up.
Sorry
Forget I said anything
Anyway I still think its fine.
No one else has replied to the ad right?
That is correct.
Because of you.
Because of the rent thing?
Yes. Because of the rent thing.
Okay yeah
I made a typo when I filled out the Craigslist form.
Sorry about that. Thats on me.
I am not so sure you are actually sorry. Either way, this cannot be put off any longer. I must have a roommate, and as soon as possible.