Second Chances (12 page)

“Yeah, pretty much. He isn’t acting like an attorney these days, just leaving me hanging out to dry like he did. Do you have any idea when he’s coming back?”

“Actually, he’s been doing some work from home. Should I tell him to call you?”

“Well… duh, of course have him call me. I need this lawsuit to go through like yesterday.”

“Okay, I’ll get on the horn. You should hear from him this week… I hope.”

“Abby, I’ve got great news. My cousin Bobby said he met a guy on a flight into Charleston the other day. This guy said he was moving here from Chicago and was looking for a place to live. Bobby gave him your info. I hope that was okay,” Melanie said.

“Of course it was okay, but what are the odds of someone actually following through with it from a casual conversation on an airplane?”

“Who knows, but it’s a start. I posted your ad on the bulletin board at work, and Joanie gave some of the ads to her husband to post in the hospital cafeteria.”

“Okay, those are good locations. I put ads in all the Starbucks south of Spring Street, too. I wish we could just advertise in the newspaper, but I don’t want all the neighbors knowing what I’m up to. I can’t afford to bring this place up to code right now. Hopefully, the ads will start drumming up phone calls.”

By the following week, Abby’s phone was ringing constantly. She had only five rooms to rent, three large and two small. With any luck, the interviews would go quickly, and so would filling up the empty spaces. Bringing in money was of the utmost importance. Abby compiled individual packets with pictures showing each room, small and large, along with the hallway bathrooms. Pictures also showed the front and back yards and the common areas, and a list detailed the benefits of renting from her. If the candidate was interested, Abby would have them fill out an application, and if all of their information was true, she would set up another appointment with them to show the house. There was no way on God’s green earth she intended to have a multitude of people coming in and out of the house out of mere curiosity. That would definitely attract too much attention in the neighborhood. Somebody might think she was running a drug house for heaven’s sake. Meeting each applicant at the Starbucks on King Street just north of Market Street would be a good central location, plus Abby could indulge in one cup of wonderful coffee and read the paper between appointments. It would be a fifteen-dollar day since she would do the proper thing and buy each applicant a cup of plain coffee to drink while they talked. Today, she had three potential renters to interview, a nice way to start the week.

Abby called a cab to pick her up at eleven thirty for her first appointment, which was set for eleven forty-five. The Starbucks was close, only five minutes away by cab. The first person she would meet was a single woman on disability.
That doesn’t sound very promising, but she does have a steady income every month
, Abby thought as she waited inside Starbucks for the woman to arrive.
I wonder what her disability is and if she can walk up and down stairs.
Abby had described herself to the woman, who was named Sharon, over the phone, saying she had curly black hair and would be wearing a yellow T-shirt and navy-blue shorts.

An extremely large woman with a heavy limp walked in the door at 11:50 a.m. Abby watched to see if she would make eye contact, and she did. Sharon headed in Abby’s direction. Perspiration ran down her forehead, ending at the tip of her nose, and her cheeks were fire engine red.

“Hello. You must be Sharon,” Abby said, taken aback by the woman’s appearance. She reached out to shake Sharon’s hand, which was cold and clammy.
Oh my God, what did I get myself into? How am I going to wash my hands now?
“It’s nice to meet you. Here, have a seat. You look exhausted. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, water sounds good,” Sharon said as she plunked down in the chair, causing the bistro table to wobble.

“Sure, I’ll be right back.” Abby ran to the ladies room to wash her hands. “Seriously, this is ridiculous,” she mumbled as she squirted double amounts of soap into her hands, scrubbing them thoroughly. “At least I still have three bucks I didn’t have to spend on coffee.”

She returned with her own coffee and a water in hand and placed them on the table. Sharon gulped the plastic cup of water before Abby was even seated.

“More, please,” Sharon said as she handed Abby the empty cup.

“Oh… okay, give me a second.” Abby finally sat down with the second cup of water and began the conversation. She didn’t need to ask what the disability was because it was apparent that something was up with Sharon’s leg. “You didn’t walk here, did you? Where are you living now?”

“I live in a rooming house on Calhoun. I got here on my Rascal scooter. It’s outside, parked on the sidewalk.”

“Oh my word… are you able to go up and down stairs?”

“Of course not, don’t you have a stair lift? What kind of boardinghouse do you run?”

“Apparently, I’m not running the right kind. I’m so sorry for not asking the proper questions over the phone. I didn’t mean to waste your time. You can still fill out an application if you like.”

“What’s the point? Thanks for the water, but I gotta get back home. Jerry Springer reruns are starting soon.”

Oh my God, I have no idea what I’m doing,
Abby thought as she watched Sharon struggle out the door and leave.
Thank God I have forty minutes to regroup before the next appointment.
She glanced at her notes to see who she was interviewing next.
Okay, this one is Lisa Gannon, a twenty-year-old medical student. That sounds a little better, but I wonder how she’ll pay the rent.

A fresh-faced girl with short blond hair entered through the door at twelve thirty.
Right on time, that’s a positive. Maybe she’ll be right on time with the rent check, too.
Lisa scanned the coffee shop and waved as soon as she saw Abby.
Nice… she’s friendly and outgoing,
Abby thought as she stood to shake Lisa’s hand. “It’s great to meet you, Lisa. I’m Abby, of course. Please sit. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A coffee sounds good. Black works for me.” Lisa sat, looking relaxed and confident.

Yay, finally, a potential renter. Maybe today will turn out okay after all.
Abby walked back to the table with one black coffee and sat down. “So, Lisa, tell me a little about yourself and why you were interested in renting from me.”

“Sure… I’m a full-time student at MUSC studying to be a pediatrician. I’m in my second year, and my studies and courses are really keeping me busy. I live with my folks in Moncks Corner, but the drive into Charleston every day is a nightmare. I don’t have the most reliable car either, but if I lived near the university, I could ride my bike to school. My parents are giving me a one-thousand-five-hundred-dollar-a-month allowance to find a place to live while I finish my schooling.”

“That sounds really nice. Congratulations. You seem to be very ambitious.”

“Oh, I totally am. You won’t be sorry to have me as a tenant. I’m quiet because I’m always studying, and I don’t have time to party like most kids my age.”

“Okay, let me show you what we offer, and if you like what you see, you can take the application home with you. I’ll need your parents’ work history, since they’re the ones who will pay your rent. Make sure you let them know that two hot meals a day are included. That should give them a sense of relief that you’re eating properly.”

Abby showed Lisa pictures of the rooms and the common areas and explained the breakdown of the rent charges.

“I’m sure a smaller room with the hallway bath would be perfect for me. This home is beautiful. May I take all of this with me to show my folks?”

“Of course, that’s what it’s for. Go ahead and fill out the application together with your parents and get back to me. My contact information is in the packet. If you want to go ahead, have your parents come along, too. I’d be happy to show all of you the house.”

“Thank you so much. I’m really excited about this, and I’ll get back to you in a few days. I better go. I don’t want to miss my next class.”

Lisa left, and Abby exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay… one down and one more to go for today. Lisa seems promising. I hope she actually moves in.”

The last interview for the day was with Charles, a city employee who had recently gotten divorced. He needed a place to call his own since he had been living with his sister for the last three months.

A man entered Starbucks alone and looked directly at Abby. A smile crossed his face as he walked toward her, held out his hand and shook Abby’s.

Abby stood and introduced herself. “Hello, you must be Charles. I’m Abby. May I get you a coffee?”

“Sure, sounds good. I take cream and sugar.”

Charles Duncan was an average-looking man in his midforties, as far as Abby could tell. He seemed clean cut and polite, almost meek. He fidgeted a bit while she asked him the typical questions.

“So, Charles, you’re looking for a place of your own. Is that right?”

“Yeah, sure am. I can’t live with my sis forever. She has a hubby and four kids in a three-bedroom house.”

“I see. That makes perfect sense. So you work for the city. What do you do?”

“I’m a garbage truck driver for City Waste and Recycling. I just got hired there a month back, but I was a garbage man in Augusta before that. My wife wanted to move here, but now I know it was because she had a boyfriend in Charleston. Now she up and divorced me, and they took off for parts unknown. I make good money, and I’m reliable. I can be in charge of taking out the garbage, too.”

“Oh… thank you, but that isn’t necessary. So you work for City Waste and Recycling?” Abby’s face turned pale, and perspiration popped up on her forehead upon hearing the company’s name.
I’m sure he got hired because of poor Mr. Hanson’s fatal heart attack. Will having him live with me screw up my chances for a settlement?
Abby’s mind was going a hundred miles a minute. “Okay, let me show you the photos of the common areas in the house, and the bedrooms. Here are the room prices, which include two hot meals every day. If you’d like to go ahead, you can fill out the application, and I’ll get back to you once I check everything out. If at that time you want to go forward, I’ll give you a tour of the place. How does that sound?”

“Real good, so I should fill this out now?”

“Yes, right now sounds wonderful.”
I seriously need to get home and have a drink.

Charles left, and Abby decided to walk home. With a good half-hour walk ahead of her, she could fill that time with decisions. She had a lot of thinking to do.

Back home with a glass of chardonnay on the library desk, Abby went over the numbers. “Let me see… Charles will likely take a small room, and Lisa will, too. Actually, two potential renters out of three appointments aren’t too bad.”

Betsy walked in. “Do you always talk out loud to yourself? I thought I heard the front door open. How did it go?” She pulled up one of the wingback chairs and sat closer to the desk, resting her feet on the chair next to her. She grabbed Abby’s glass and took a sip. “Ooh, that’s good.” Betsy jumped off the cozy chair just long enough to open the mini-fridge at the wet bar and pour herself a glass of chardonnay. “Thank you, Charlotte, for always having a nice wine selection.”

“Where were you just now?”

“I was upstairs changing the bed linens. So did anyone bite?”

“We might get two out of three. That’s a positive start, isn’t it?”

“Heck yeah, so tell me about the one that was a no go.”

“Oh my gosh, she drove her Rascal to the interview,” Abby said, almost choking on her wine. “I mean, you can’t make this stuff up. I felt bad, but I think she would have been on to us in two seconds flat. She was handicapped, of course, but she asked why I was renting out rooms upstairs if I didn’t have a stair lift. Who would have thunk? That never even occurred to me. I’m going to have to do more of the initial interview over the phone and make sure everyone is capable of walking up to a second-floor room.”

“Yeah, that could have gotten us in trouble.”

“Oh, and get this… I swear truth is stranger than fiction. One of the other two potential tenants works at City Waste and Recycling. It scared the crap out of me when he said that. It looks like he could be a potentially good tenant, but is that just some more bad karma, voodoo, and juju?”

“Who the heck knows? That is so weird. What a day… and the third?”

“She was perfect, a medical student whose parents will pay one thousand five hundred dollars a month for her to live in Charleston. I’m sure that one will be fine.”

“Okay, then there’s two people, and they want a small or a large bedroom?”

“Most likely small, but it’s a start in the right direction.”

All of the bedrooms were ready. The ivory paint looked elegant and rich. Erik was right, and his choice of colors for the rooms was spot-on, and the paint was much cheaper in bulk. Abby added colorful pillows she found scattered throughout the house and used them in the bedrooms. She moved artwork and rugs from other rooms into the tenant rooms to add pops of color as well. She didn’t mind getting by with less in her own room, and Mel and Betsy didn’t either.

That Saturday was the perfect day to show Lisa and her parents, along with Charles, the house on South Battery. All the applications were properly filled out, and the credit checks and background histories came back in good order. With the quantity of tourists walking East and South Battery and checking out White Point Garden, nobody would notice a few people going in and out of Melrose Mansion. The visitors were scheduled to arrive at eleven a.m., the busiest time for tourists to stroll the neighborhood. For thirty minutes, Abby acted as a tour guide, showing the main floor, second floor, the available rooms, and the gardens outside. Erik was right again. Planting that great quantity of flowers had paid off in spades, and the backyard was breathtakingly beautiful. Butterflies flittered about, and hummingbirds zoomed by like fairies on rocket launchers. Abby invited the group out to the back to sit and enjoy a glass of tea with her and Melanie, Betsy, and Erik.