Half-asleep, Rose woke up completely when she felt the strong arm rest across her stomach. Ronnie gave a soft sigh of contentment in her sleep and snuggled closer, her warm breath caressing the smaller woman’s shoulder. Rose smiled in the dark and brought her left hand down to rest atop the larger one. It should have seemed strange to sleep next to someone after spending the first twenty-six years of her life sleeping alone but it didn’t. Lying next to Ronnie felt natural, comfortable, right. She believed the older woman truly cared for her, something Rose had never really felt before. It filled her with a sense of…well, whatever it was she could not quite name but it was a wonderful feeling just the same. Another sigh and the older woman moved even closer, her chin resting just above Rose’s shoulder and her face buried in the blonde hair.
Time ticked by while the young woman enjoyed the sensations, the warmth of Ronnie’s hand through the cotton nightshirt, the gentle breaths tickling her ear. The feeling of safety and security covered her like no blanket ever could. Rose had friends growing up, playmates, girls to share secrets with, but she never felt toward them what she felt toward Ronnie. Her feelings ran deeper than anything she had ever known and although it should have scared her, it didn’t. She turned her head to the side and placed a gentle kiss on Ronnie’s forehead. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered before closing her eyes and letting sleep overtake her.
The rusted out station wagon chugged its way up Morris Street. Delores Bickering spotted the address she was looking for and double-parked in front of it. She had planned on visiting her sister but decided since she was in the area anyway it would not hurt to stop in and see Rose, especially since she had not received a reply, or a check, from the young woman yet. She rolled down the window and reached for the outside handle, the only way to open the car door, and stepped out. She walked down the steps leading to the basement apartment, frowning when she saw a Hispanic couple moving about inside. She knocked on the door. “Does Rose Grayson live here?”
“No, we just moved in. You might want to check with Cecil. He lives upstairs.”
“What the fuck you want?” Cecil asked when he opened the door.
“I’m looking for Rose Grayson. I thought she lived here.”
“Moved out,” he grunted. “Damn bitch didn’t give me no notice either.”
“Do you know where she moved to?”
“Who the fuck are you?” He looked at Delores suspiciously.
“I’m her mother,” she lied.
“I don’t know and I don’t give a shit. If you want to know, you should ask the bitch that was here. Hang on, I got her name here somewhere. I wrote it down in case the check she gave me bounced.” He went back into the apartment, leaving her standing outside. He returned a minute later with a Post-It note with scribbling on it. “Here, that’s the name and address of the bitch that moved her stuff out.”
Delores took the paper and looked at it. V. Cartwright, One Cartwright Drive, Loudonville. “Did you get a phone number?”
“Do I look like the fucking information booth?” he snarled. “That’s all I know. Now, unless you’re interested in renting the third floor, you’re wasting my fucking time.” He shut the door without waiting for an answer. Delores walked back to her car, puzzled. Anyone who lived on a street with the same name as theirs was no doubt rich, and the fact that it was in Loudonville, where no one on welfare could afford to live was even more intriguing. She decided she needed to find out more. She adjusted the pillow on the front seat, the only thing keeping the worn springs from pressing into her bottom, and turned the key several times before the twenty year old station wagon sputtered to life.
She stopped at the nearest convenience store to gas up the car, not bothering to pull up to the furthest pump., she thought to herself while putting the nozzle into the tank. She put exactly five dollars worth of gas into the tank before entering the store. Once inside, she picked up a street map of Albany County and headed for the back where the soda coolers were lined up. While opening the case with one hand, Delores used her other to stuff the street map into her pocketbook. She approached the pimply-faced clerk with a bottle of Pepsi in her hand.
“Seventy-five cents for the soda and five for the gas,” the clerk said. Delores pulled a worn bill out of her jacket pocket along with a one-dollar food stamp. The clerk nodded and returned her a quarter, completely unaware of the shoplifting. As she always did, Delores could not resist smirking as she exited the store, having once again gotten away with getting something for nothing.
The station wagon sputtered and worked its way through the congested traffic of Albany into the quieter suburb of Loudonville. In the village where the average income was well into six digits, the rusted out Ford with fake wooden panels stood out in stark contrast to the newer vehicles of Ronnie’s neighborhood. Delores made two wrong turns before finding Cartwright Drive, blaming both of them on the street map and not on herself. Deciding the large mansion at the beginning of the street had to be number-one, she pulled the uninspected and uninsured car into the long driveway, stopping it just behind a bright blue Jeep Cherokee. She removed the key from the ignition and waited for a moment while the car continued to run before it finally gave a dying gasp and went silent. Drips of oil stained the driveway as she rolled down the window to reach the door handle.she thought to herself.If Rose knew the person who owned this place, well that certainly was worth investigating, Delores reasoned. She spotted the shoveled flagstone walkway that circled the lawn and led to the large double-door entrance and followed it.
Ronnie was working on her computer when she heard the rattling sound of a car pulling into her driveway. A quick look at the bed confirmed Rose was still sound asleep. She stood up and walked to the window, blue eyes widening at the sight of the brown, white, and rust colored station wagon sitting in her driveway. “What the hell…?” The window rolled down and an arm reached out for the handle. She watched as a rotund woman, poorly dressed, stepped out of the car and looked at the house. Ronnie’s first thought was it was either a lost traveler or one of those annoying door-to-door salespeople. She took another look at the peacefully sleeping woman and decided to intercept the unexpected arrival before the doorbell could wake Rose.
Ronnie opened the door and realized this was no door-to-door salesperson. A black knit cap with a pompom at the tip covered the head of a woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties while a dirty yellow jacket littered with various stains covered the upper body. She held an oversized purse in hands that bore no gloves and her feet were covered with a pair of sneakers which had long ago stopped being considered white. The dark-haired executive looked down at the shorter woman and frowned. “May I help you?”
“Um, yes,” Delores said, looking up with surprise. “How did you know…”