The Apartment (2 page)

She was on her own. In her own home. Out from under the thumb of her loving, domineering mother.

An odd sound drifted toward Hilary. It came from the living room, or it seemed to. It was as if someone had dropped something heavy, which of course was ridiculous, since she was alone.

She wasn't concerned, especially when she didn't hear anything else. Sounds carried easily in the still of the night. Half listening, she decided it was either her imagination or the apartment settling, welcoming her to her new home….

* * *

Sean Cochran stood in the living room of the duplex, his camouflage duffel bag on the floor before him. He was exhausted to the bone. The flight out of Boston had been delayed by nearly two hours, which meant he'd missed his connecting flight in Chicago. All in all, he'd had a long day.

Luckily Dave, a buddy from his last deployment, had been able to pick him up at the airport. He was sorry to have missed meeting Allen Greer. The man he'd rented the duplex from had been both friendly and helpful.

It was going to be a hassle to be without wheels, but the army would deliver his own car within the next week. Sean didn't know who was parking in his space now, but he'd make sure whoever it was didn't do it again anytime soon. Not that it was likely anyone would argue with him. At six-three and a solid two hundred pounds, his brawn intimidated most.

The army was behind him now, Sean mused, experiencing a brief sense of loss. Out of habit he walked to the refrigerator.

He was hungry and tired, a nasty combination. He'd intended to pick up something to eat at the airport before Dave arrived, but there hadn't been time. He didn't know what he was hoping to find in the refrigerator. A miracle?

That was exactly what happened. The refrigerator was stocked with several items, including a slice of quiche, a small bottle of French wine and a carton of milk.

Before the landlords left, the landlady must have brought him over something to eat. It was certainly patriotic of her. Unnecessary, but kind, and he appreciated it.

Had Mrs. Greer ever met him, she'd have known a slice of quiche wouldn't come anywhere close to filling him. Nor did he enjoy delicately flavored French wines. If he was going to drink anything alcoholic, it'd be a beer. Preferably dark ale.

Standing in front of the open refrigerator, Sean reached for the thin slice of pie and ate it in four bites. He toyed with the idea of drinking the wine, then decided against it and downed the milk directly out of the carton.

He had to hand it to the landlady, she was one hell of a cook. The quiche was excellent. He'd gladly have eaten more.

The kitchen clock told Sean it was nearly eleven, which was two East Coast time. He was exhausted. Too exhausted to hassle whoever had taken his parking space. Too exhausted to worry about scrounging up anything to eat. All he wanted was a bed.

Without bothering to take his duffel bag with him, he wandered down the hall and took the first bedroom on the left. He didn't even bother to turn on the light.

He undressed and turned back the covers, grateful to find the bed made. In the morning there'd be plenty of time to sort out the changes in his life. He'd come two thousand miles for a fresh start. He wasn't in the Special Forces, wasn't one of the army's elite Green Berets anymore. Nor would he continue in his role as a well-trained advisor.

The army was making deep cuts these days. He'd once thought the military would be his career, but when the opportunity came for him to reenlist, Sean declined. The way things looked, there would be little room for advancement.

Dave Krier had assured Sean there was ample opportunity for a helicopter pilot in the Portland area. It was the most promising offer Sean had, so he'd decided to accept his friend's proposition.

Dave had helped him make the arrangements on the West Coast. He'd found the apartment and given Sean's deposit to Allen Greer. The setup sounded ideal. An elderly couple who often traveled in their motor home and rented out one half of their duplex. Sean liked the idea of his landlords being away a good portion of the time. He liked his privacy.

Sleep came to him as a welcome friend. He had a good feeling about all this. Leaving the army could well have been the best move he'd made in several years.

Like most everything else in life, time would tell.

* * *

Hilary woke early, stirring just after dawn. The days were growing longer, Portland's famous roses were budding, and the warm scent of spring perfumed the air.

Dressed in her thin robe, she wandered into the kitchen to make herself a latte
.
The espresso machine had been a going-away present from her mother. Hilary couldn't help but feel a small stab of guilt at the thought, then resolutely turned her mind to heating the milk
.

Once the drink was complete, she took a tentative sip and placed the milk carton back inside the refrigerator. It was then that she noticed the empty plate. She hesitated. Now that she thought about it, the milk was half gone, too.

What in heaven's name happened to her leftover quiche? Who'd drunk her milk?

Frowning and confused, she closed the door and turned around. The noise. She remembered hearing something odd the night before, but had been too exhausted to get up and investigate.

Obviously some…cat burglar had broken into her home and eaten her quiche and drunk her milk.

Her heart started to pound heavily against her ribs as she glanced about the room, seeking out evidence. Nothing else seemed to be amiss.

Walking into the living room, she stopped abruptly at the sight of a large…sandbag. At least, it looked like a sandbag, although she'd always thought they were made of burlap. This one seemed to be constructed out of some jungle fabric.

In his haste to escape, the cat burglar had apparently left it behind.

Although she was more than a little frightened, she refused to phone the police the first full day she was on her own. It made sense for her to check out the bag first before leaping to conclusions.

“Come on,” she said aloud, groping for the necessary fortitude. “It can't be that bad. What's there to scare you?”

With slow, easy steps, she walked around the counter and into the living room. The bag rested just inside the door. On closer examination, Hilary realized this wasn't a sandbag after all. More than likely, whoever had broken into her home had left behind a bag of stolen goods.

Something or someone had frightened him off and he'd dropped the goods. There was no help for it now. The choice had been taken away from her. She had to phone the police and turn it in. Her only prayer was that her mother wouldn't hear about this. It was just the type of thing that would send Louise into a tizzy.

Her decision made, Hilary turned and came within two feet of the biggest man she'd ever seen in her life. He loomed over her, menacing and angry.

Hilary's heart went into a panic.

“Who the hell are you?” he boomed in a voice that echoed like a Chinese gong.

“W
ho am I?” Hilary cried indignantly. “The question here is who are you!” It was a wonder she hadn't fainted from sheer terror. How dare this…this bully break into her home—her very first home—and make demands of her. “Furthermore, what are you doing in my apartment?”

“You've got this all wrong, lady. I'm the one who lives here.”

Hilary folded her arms and gave him a look that suggested she wasn't stupid, nor would she let him intimidate her. If she could deal with her mother, then she was capable of handling King Kong.

“I happen to live here,” she told him as forcefully as she could. He might outweigh her by a hundred pounds and tower a good ten inches above her, but she refused to be browbeaten. “Now I'd like to suggest you leave. Otherwise I'll be forced to contact the authorities.”

The intruder's eyes narrowed as he took in her best finishing-school voice. A slow, deliberate smile appeared. “Dave Krier put you up to this, didn't he?”

“I assure you I don't know anyone named Dave,” she informed him stiffly. “Now kindly leave and take that…that sandbag with you, before I call the police.”

“Be my guest.” He crossed his massive arms, his dark eyes cold and arrogant. “It should be interesting, since I have a lease on this apartment.”

“You couldn't possibly have a lease,” Hilary responded tartly, “because
I
have a lease.”

“Prove it.”

“You prove it!” she demanded, refusing to be cowed. It was only too clear the man was lying, but for what purpose, she could only speculate.

“Fine, I will.” He stalked over to the bag that had been the cause of her curiosity earlier. He opened it, reached inside and withdrew a thick envelope. He shuffled through some papers, then peeled one away and examined it.

“I signed a six-month lease,” he said. “Allen Greer's signature confirms it.”

“Allen Greer,” Hilary repeated slowly as she read over the agreement. “I…rented this place from his wife more than a week ago.” She had the papers with her as well, but they were in her room.

“Mrs. Greer rented you the apartment?”

“Apparently there's been some misunderstanding,” Hilary said slowly, collecting her thoughts. She read over the paper and noted his name, neatly typed, on the top of the lease agreement.

“Then we should allow the Greers to settle this,” Sean suggested. “It's apparent each of them rented out the unit without the other knowing.”

“Yes, but I'm afraid the Greers aren't going to be much help.”

Sean frowned fiercely. “Why not? Once we contact them, we can settle this thing once and for all.”

“Because,” Hilary said, growing impatient, “the Greers aren't here. When I last spoke to Mrs. Greer, she told me they would be gone for the next six weeks.”

“Six weeks!” Sean exploded, and Hilary swore his voice boomed like thunder through the living room.

“There's no reason to yell.”

“Listen, lady, I've got every reason to be upset. I have no intention of moving.”

“But you'll have to—you don't have any choice,” Hilary said, as calmly as she could under the circumstances. “I moved in here first and possession is nine-tenths of the law. The least you can do is the gentlemanly thing and—”

“Forget that. You can do the honorable thing and move. By the way, who's to say which one of us was here first?”

“Well, I was, of course,” Hilary claimed indignantly, “because you ate my leftover dinner.” He was frowning again, realizing, she hoped, that she was unquestionably right.

“Possession isn't the only means to judge who's entitled to the apartment. Get your lease and check the date of your receipt. It makes sense that whoever paid the deposit first should have it. The other will have to move. Agreed?”

“All right,” she said hesitantly. She brushed the long strands of dark hair from her face, a nervous trait that angered her. Sean would look upon it as a display of weakness, and she refused to give him a single foothold.

It only took her a moment to find the signed lease. When she returned, Sean was standing next to the stove. A pan of water was boiling away. He added coffee grounds to the water and then strained it into a cup. Hilary had never seen anyone brew coffee using such primitive methods, but she was forced to admit he was resourceful. She only hoped he'd be equally so when it came to his locating other accommodations.

“My agreement was signed the tenth of the month,” she said, handing him the proof.

Sean took the paper from her hand and carefully read it over while she reached for his lease. A deep sigh of gratitude went through her as she realized she had signed the agreement a day before Sean had.

“I'm sorry, I really am,” she said, having a difficult time disguising her relief. “But I have to tell you the apartment is perfect for me. My job's less than a mile away.” He glared at her, suggesting the apartment was equally convenient for him. “I'll be happy to do what I can to help you find someplace else,” Hilary offered weakly.

His frown darkened and deepened.

“Is there someplace else you can live?” Hilary asked, feeling mildly contrite. She wanted to be gracious about the whole thing, since it was clear neither of them was at fault. She was just grateful that she wasn't the one who had to move.

“No,” he said thoughtfully after a moment. “I flew out from Fort Devens yesterday. My friend Dave met me at the airport.”

“What about this Dave? Surely you could move in with him on a temporary basis?”

“That's not likely. He's living with his in-laws as it is. If you'll just write me out a check for the deposit and the first month's rent, I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can.”

“Your deposit?” Hilary repeated. “First month's rent… I don't have extra money like that just lying around.” Hilary's heart sank all the way to her ankles. She couldn't get into her trust fund and she absolutely refused to ask her mother for the money.

“I'd say we have a problem, then, don't you?” Sean growled. “Because I'm not budging until I get my money back.”

“You're being unreasonable,” Hilary said, swallowing down a sense of dread. “The Greers have your money, not me.”

“How do you expect me to rent someplace else without the cash to do it?” he barked impatiently.

Hilary blinked at the abruptness of his tone, then stiffened with righteous indignation. “I don't know…and I don't have the time to argue with you now. I've got to be at the music store in less than an hour. I'll try to think of something while I'm there.”

“I suggest you do that.”

“And I suggest
you
do some thinking, too.”

* * *

This was one hell of a mess, Sean mused as he stood beneath the pelting shower. For weeks he'd been looking forward to the time he could be on his own again. He knew his family was disappointed that he'd opted to head west instead of returning to the Chicago area. His younger half brother had offered him a job, but Sean didn't think there was much call for a helicopter pilot in the furnace business.