“I know, sweetie.”
A noise like hailstones pitter-pattered outside in the hall, and we all looked at one another. “What the hell is that?”
I jumped up and ran to the front door.
Three Asian children were running up and down the wide, well-lit outer hallway. As they raced toward my door, the lead child saw me and skidded to a stop, causing the other two to collide into each other. The last child tumbled to the floor, laughing.
“Children!” a dark-haired woman cried from the end of the hall. She had to be their mother.
They all stood at attention. The tallest child, a little boy, stared at me with wide eyes while the two girls looked at the floor. I estimated the boy was six or seven and his siblings a year or two younger.
“You’re disturbing the peace of our neighbors,” the mom said. “What did I tell you about making noise?”
I waved at the woman standing outside her door. “Hello. I’m Brooklyn. You must be our new neighbors.”
“Yes. I am very sorry for the children’s behavior.” She approached my door slowly as she explained, “They have been cooped up all day, and I let them out to greet their father, who should be here any minute.” She gazed severely at her children. “But that is no excuse for such rambunctious conduct.”
“Sorry, Mama,” they said in unison.
“Perhaps you should apologize to our new neighbor, so she won’t think you are all little hooligans.”
“Sorry, new neighbor,” they said.
I bit back a laugh. “That’s okay.” I looked at the mom. “I heard them running and came out to investigate. Except for the elevator, this is a pretty quiet building.” I cringed inwardly as I said it. I didn’t want her feeling self-conscious and stifling her kids too much. On the other hand, did I really want to hear little kids racing up and down the hall all day? The answer was a big no way.
“I’m Lisa Chung,” the woman said. She was beautiful and petite, with long black hair. She had a mild Chinese accent.
“I’m Brooklyn Wainwright.” I shook her hand, then pointed toward my door. “These are my friends Derek Stone and Robin Tully.”
She bowed slightly in our direction. “How do you do?”
“Did you just arrive today?” I asked. “We saw movers over the weekend but didn’t see anyone actually moving in.”
“Yes, the movers came ahead of us. We came in with the children this morning.”
The Chungs had caused a stir a few months ago when they bought two loft units next door to each other, then tore down the shared walls to make one huge apartment to accommodate their family of five.
The boy gazed up at me. “Do you live here?”
“Yes, I’m Brooklyn. What’s your name?”
“Tyler Chung and I’m six,” he said. He was adorable, with straight black hair cut in a bowl shape around his face. All three kids wore jeans and T-shirts and looked red cheeked and out of breath from playing. “These are my cousins Jennifer and Jessica. They’re five years old and they are twins. Their parents are dead. They live with us now.”
“Tyler, that is more information than anyone needs to hear,” Lisa said, but she had to smile at his lack of guile.
We all traded hellos back and forth.
“You’re so pretty,” Tyler said, still watching me.
“Why, thank you,” I said, taken aback. It had been a long time since a six-year-old had flirted with me.
“He doesn’t get to meet a lot of blondes,” his mother said.
I laughed. “Well, it was nice meeting you all. And welcome to the building. I hope you’ll enjoy it here.”
“Thank you very much,” she said with another short bow. “The children will not bother you.”
“I’m not worried.”
“We plan to have an open house sometime in the next few weeks. Perhaps you will all stop by.”
“We would be honored,” I said. “Thanks.”
The following morning, I woke up alone and a bit disoriented. Derek’s side of the bed was still warm, and I ran my hand over his pillow. Then, feeling self-conscious, I pulled my hand back.
This whole new-relationship thing was crazy, I thought as I stared at the ceiling. I’d dated plenty of men. I’d even been engaged to a few of them. But I’d never before felt this baffling, thrilling, tingly craziness.
I liked it, but I didn’t trust it. How could anything this intense stand a chance of surviving more than a few months at the most? I was essentially a positive person. I saw the glass as half-full, and I believed in miracles. Still, it was madness to think this blissful feeling could last much longer. Certainly not a lifetime.
And if that was the way my thoughts were moving, it was time to wrangle them back to reality. I vowed right then and there to take things with Derek one day at a time. No way in hell would I start making plans for the future. Okay, maybe we could schedule a dinner two weeks from now, but that was the outside limit.
The scent of robust coffee wafted into the bedroom, and mercifully, all my errant thoughts dissolved into the ether. Except for one: Feed me.
I stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I fiddled with my hair, then threw on a robe and walked into the kitchen, where Robin and Derek were sitting at the bar drinking coffee and talking quietly.
When Derek saw me, he smiled, stood, and kissed me. And here came those emotions again. Talk about feeling disoriented. The man blew my socks off. I gave myself ten seconds to simply enjoy the feel of his hard, rugged body pressed against me. Then he drew back and smoothed my hair away from my face. “Sit here, darling. I’ll pour you some coffee.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“It’s so nice to see you two together,” Robin said, staring at Derek and me with a dreamy gaze.
I took a sip of coffee, then studied her with concern. But she seemed much better today. Her eyes were bright and she was already dressed and wearing makeup.
“You look great,” I said. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep.” She stretched her arms and yawned. “But the good thing is, I fell asleep right away last night, probably because of the wine.”
“Wine always helps,” I said. “Mm, coffee, too.”
Derek walked into the kitchen to retrieve the third stool I kept there. He pulled it close and sat facing us.
After a few more sips of coffee, I started to wake up. “So what have you two been talking about?”
Robin turned. “Derek’s agreed to talk to the police so I can get some things out of my apartment.”
“You have?” I said. “That’s nice.”
“He’s just a hero,” Robin said, shaking her head. “That’s all there is to it.”
“You really are,” I said, holding the warm mug with both hands. “Thank you.”
He shook his head. “That’s enough out of you two.”
“It’s cute the way he protests,” Robin said.
Scowling, he pushed himself up from the stool. “I was going to make French toast, but now I’m not sure you deserve it.”
“Oh, we do, we do,” I crooned.
“We’ll be good, I promise,” Robin said, then giggled. Again, giggles weren’t her style, but it was fun to see her able to tease and enjoy herself after her ordeal.
Over French toast, bacon, juice, and coffee at the dining room table, Robin compiled a list of items she wanted from her place. Most urgent, besides underwear and her favorite jeans, were her computer and the briefcase that held her calendar and tour and travel information.
As she spoke, I noticed that she really did seem better. Not so frightened of her own shadow, and not so muzzy as she’d been yesterday. Derek and I exchanged glances and I started to say something, then changed my mind. It was too soon.
Robin glanced from Derek to me and back to him. “Oh, go ahead and ask me the question. I know you’re dying to.”
“What question?” I asked.