Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances (7 page)

“Christine Jennings. This is Rodney Thornley, he’s the one who needs a home. What is this save-the-day idea of yours, Mr. Allerton?”

“I have an apartment for you.”

“What do you mean you have an apartment for us?”

“I put down a deposit on another one this morning. First ad I answered, but I also wanted to see this, so I hopped over here and knew right away I’d found pay dirt. Would you be interested in the other one? It’s on Eighty-first between Lex and Third.”

Hope soared. “It’s not as nice as this one, I take it?”

“This one’s brighter, more sun, which I wanted if I could get it. The other one’s great, though, or else I wouldn’t have plunked down the money for it. It has a bay, like this one, I’m pretty sure you’ll cotton to it. Rent’s $315.”

“Rodney?”

“Yes, of course. What was wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Except no bedroom, which I certainly didn’t expect to find anyway, but mainly it’s just enough below ground level that there isn’t all this strong light. Otherwise — ”

“You mean a
basement
flat?”

“No, nothing like that. You don’t think I’d consider anything like that? Do you want to see it? I’ll be glad to go on over with you. If you decide on it you can return my deposit to me. That is if you’re so inclined. I know I have no right to ask for it.”

“Of course we’d return it.”

“Then let’s get a move on, before something goes wrong on that end.”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Allerton.”

“Not a bit. If you’re satisfied with it I won’t be the villain in the piece. I’m not partial to being a heavy. I’ll just lock up here and we’ll be there in a jiffy.”

They flagged down a cab on Third, rode up to Eighty-first, where Allerton told the driver they’d get off. “It’s just up the block,” he told the others. “Here, let me get that.”

“You’re not paying for our cab,” she said, surveying the environs, which of course were familiar to an old New Yorker. “I know this street, it’s a good one. Trees, Rodney. I suppose it’s that rickety building with the peeling stucco? Still, it doesn’t look too run down.”

“No, it’s the one with the diamond-paned window, the one with the bay.”

“Oh, I’ve passed it before, any number of times. I always thought it was very sweet, sort of quaint. Rodney, it looks nice, doesn’t it?”

“Very nice indeed,” he said judiciously. “Rather like a small cottage. Mullioned windows. I shall feel I’m in the country.”

“It’s small inside, but very well laid out, very compact and serviceable. As I said, I was all ready to settle in there myself.”

Rodney had gone to look in the bay window, leaning forward to peer inside. Of course there were drawbacks immediately apparent, Christine was thinking. Where would he put an air conditioner? Naturally the thought wouldn’t have entered his head. You couldn’t put one in the bay unless you wanted to spoil its appearance, and they were the only front windows, so where would he put a unit? And there would certainly be easy access for a burglar. A ground-floor dwelling, it would be a piece of cake for someone to jimmy open a window and go right in.

Which was, when it came right down to it, something a burglar wouldn’t bother attempting, in plain sight. A burglar would jimmy open the door to the apartment rather than risk being spotted outside.

Well. Lots of people lived with fire escapes, what easier entry was there than a fire escape?

It did seem a creditable building, on a pleasant street, and if the plumbing left something to be desired,
tant pis
. Rodney would just have to learn to live with it. It would be a blessing if this were the last one. She was suddenly very, very weary of looking at apartments. “Could you see anything inside?” she asked Rodney when he came back.

“It looks good,” he said, sweeping back his hair. “There appears to be some built-in shelving. It doesn’t seem dark, either.”

A few minutes later they were inside the building, after being let in by a Mr. Scanlan, who unlocked the apartment door for them and who complained that he was being kept busy by people responding to the ad. “I can’t hold it any longer,” he said severely. “Deposit or no deposit.”

“I can understand that,” Allerton agreed. “Just give us a few minutes. You’ll have your answer right away. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, and pushed open the door so they could go inside. Ten minutes later Rodney was writing out his check, and they had the key. Mr. Scanlan, relieved of his responsibilities, went his own way and they surveyed the rooms again. Rodney was overwhelmed by his find. He kept returning to the bay, where there was a window seat, presently covered in a faded chintz, but even though it would need recovering the overall effect was very pretty. It would provide extra seating, he informed them unnecessarily, and you could sit there reading a book.

And the light. Such a soft light, quite mellow and soft, like amber. Plus the built-in shelving, one hadn’t expected that. “Thank you, Mr. Allerton, I say, thanks a million. Oh, I must write
you
a check now. Three fifteen, right?”

“Unanticipated but welcome,” Allerton said, pocketing the check. “I think I’m as glad to get you people settled and off the hook as I am to see the money again. As I said, I know what it means. We’re a frantic fraternity, we apartment hunters. I’ve seen the same people frequently.”

“It’s terribly wearying,” Christine agreed. “But thanks to you we’re taken care of, no more trudging all over creation. I feel like buying you flowers, Mr. Allerton. You saved the day after all.”

“All’s well that ends well.”

“As for you, Rodney, congratulations. You’re a homeowner! You must call your mother tonight and let her know.”

“I shall. And now let’s celebrate, a smashing lunch, with champagne.”

“Lunchtime’s about two hours away, it’s only ten.”

“Oh. So it is.”

“And Mr. Allerton, now you have to get yourself back to your own apartment, don’t you? Please, I insist on paying for your cab back there.”

“Now listen,” he said. “I know I protested I couldn’t afford to pay much for my digs, but I’m not on Welfare. But I’d like to take you both to lunch, that is if you can manage to do without the champagne, which I confess might strain my resources a bit too far.”

“Well, wonderful! Instead of buying you flowers I’ll buy you lunch. Oh, please. If it weren’t for you — ”

“Not at all,” Rodney said expansively. “I’m in a celebratory mood, this will be my treat. And not another word said. Well, though, as it’s only tennish, what shall we do until then?”

“Maybe you wouldn’t mind coming back with me to admire my own acquisition? I wasn’t there very long so I didn’t have much of a chance to gloat.”

“Fine. Let’s go back to your own acquisition and help you gloat. We’ll start our rounds of furniture stores tomorrow, Rodney. Today we gloat. Lock the door. Got it? It’s a good Medico, but do you think he should have the bolt changed, Mr. Allerton?”

“I don’t think it’s called for, no. I’m not going to replace mine. By the way, please call me Jack.”

“Okay, call me Christine.”

“Would you like to walk down? It’s a nice day.”

“I’d love to walk down.”

“And now I really feel I belong here,” Rodney said, pocketing his key. “Now I’m really a resident.”

• • •

If she was a trifle uneasy about Rodney’s reaction to Jack Allerton’s much larger place she needn’t have worried, Christine was glad to see, as they went through his newly-acquired apartment. There was abundant praise but no envious glances, Rodney was clearly preoccupied with his own plans. He had a kind of vacant look, as if he were present only in the flesh. He had found what he had set out to find, and nothing could distract him from his complacency.

Christine herself enjoyed wandering along with Jack through this empty, high-ceilinged apartment, their footfalls echoing, voices as well. The bedroom was not a plyboarded L, but a real room, even if small and with a not very roomy clothes closet. “It will do,” Jack said. “I’ll have to make it do. There’s a better one in the hall between the rooms, and there’s a broom closet. I’ll manage.”

He opened a door. “Do you think this bathroom’s tacky? I was stunned when I looked at it. All these multicolored tiles. Like a circus. I wonder what smartass dreamed this up?”

“I don’t know, I feel it’s rather jolly. It’s certainly cheerful. And it looks clean as a whistle.”

“I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

“You’re being overcritical. I like it. I think it’s fun.”

He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s a minor point. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

They went back to the living room. “This,” he said, and swept his arm in an arc. “This is what you hope to find and rarely do. These ceilings, the room proportions, the fireplace. Be nice if I could use it, but just having it for appearance’ sake is terrific, that formal mantel, the carving. The hell with everything else, this room’s what sold me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Christine agreed. She could imagine what the room looked like when it was in prime condition, years ago when this house was in its heyday, a mansion — modest in its way but nevertheless a dignified town house some prosperous merchant owned at the turn of the century — and this one of its front parlors, a sitting or morning room, with heavy brocaded drapes at the handsome windows and a magnificent crystal chandelier where the sunburst radiated in the middle of the lofty ceiling.

There were louvres at the windows, built-in shutters that pulled out of the side wall, a feature you found in some of these old houses, closing off the room at night or parted, according to your wish, to subdue the glare of the sun when it became too dazzling. “Thank God I won’t have to have Venetian blinds,” Jack said. “They always look so tenementy to me.”

“I don’t like them either and they’re so hard to keep clean. You don’t have shutters in the bedroom, do you?”

“No, that’s not a wide-silled window. Of course, as you noted, it looks out on nothing, just a few yards of space between this house and the adjoining one, but it provides light and air, and you can’t have everything.”

“At least it’s not an airshaft. We saw plenty of places facing on airshafts. Just put some cheerful curtains up, or a slatted bamboo blind, something in a warm cedar or so.”

“And I’ll have to buy an air conditioner for the bedroom. Just a small unit, install it myself. The one I have is a very good unit, 9200 B.T.U.s, I’ll get that installed right away, even before I move in.” He pointed. “In that window, not the one near where my desk will be. It won’t look too bad, it has an ivory-toned front panel, unobtrusive.”

“I say, must I have an air conditioner?” Rodney demanded, a little disconcerted. “But where?”

“I’m afraid it will have to be in the bay,” Christine explained. “I know it seems a shame, but — ”

“In the
bay?
” He bristled. “But that will spoil it! How can I do
that?
”

“There isn’t any other place, my darling. Don’t worry, it will be scarcely noticeable. Besides, the planting outside will help a bit. Rodney, dear, you must have an air conditioner. You haven’t experienced one of our New York summers yet.”

“Well, I must say this is a bitter blow. One of those horrid things sticking out of my casement window?”

“Why don’t you rent one?” Jack suggested. “Then you can have it taken out for the colder weather. Unless, of course, rental prices are exorbitant, I really can’t say about that. I can ask when I have mine moved and installed here. Shall I do that?”

“Oh yes, would you then? I’d very much appreciate it.” He shook his head, crestfallen. “I’m afraid I didn’t give it a thought, rather stupid of me.”

“Not at all, you’re probably not used to such details. I’m glad I have mine and don’t have to buy one. The bedroom unit won’t amount to much expense.”

“So you see, Rodney, your problems will be ironed out in no time. And if you rent a unit for, say four months or so, it might be the best all-round idea. Well, Jack, congratulations to you and I’d like to apologize for throwing a tantrum earlier this morning when I found someone had beaten us to the draw. I’m sorry, really sorry. You’ve been marvelous, I’ll never forget it.”

“I’m glad I could assist. So did you, don’t forget. I might have had to forfeit my deposit otherwise. At the very least, I would have had a lengthy argument about it.” He looked at his wristwatch. “I’m afraid I’ve bored you to a fare-thee-well. I didn’t realize we’d been here all this time. And nothing to sit down on. It’s one-thirty, where’d the time go to? God, I’m sorry to keep you hanging around here all this time. You must both be starved. As a matter of fact so am I. Now. Where would you like to have lunch?”

“Rodney? If it’s your treat you should decide.”

“No, no, just wherever you’d like.”

“I guess it’s up to you, Jack.”

“There’s a place quite near here I go to a lot. Sure you have nothing special in mind? Well then, I’ll just lock up and we’ll get going.”

Christine noted his smile of satisfaction as he gave a last look at the rooms that were now his. Turning, his eyes met hers. He laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, the cat that swallowed the canary,” he said as they went down the stairs. “If you could see the place I’m leaving you’d know why. A building that used to be good, but now they’re milking it, doing nothing, just letting everything fall apart, practically brick by brick. A recurring leak in my bathroom ceiling, the plaster hanging down like someone’s skin peeling. Insufficient heat in the winter and as often as not none at all. I had to go to the Hyde Park Hotel two nights this past February, otherwise I probably would have frozen to death. Never reimbursed for it, of course. Twenty-one degrees and cold radiators. When Gristede’s, which was on the corner, closed its branch there, all the Gristede roaches scrambled to find other quarters, which needless to say were the nearest houses, including mine. It was a day by day skirmish between me and the roaches, the survival of the fittest.”

“Jack, how gruesome. Rent controlled?”

“No. Low, admittedly. I know it’s next to impossible to maintain a building for rents that haven’t kept pace with the economy, but they could have some kind of landlord-tenant discussions. I for one would have been glad to pay an increase, and I think most of the others would have. You know what’s happening these days. These old brownstones aren’t bringing in any profit, so they hang on to them until such time as some developer buys up a whole block of them, tears them down and puts up a highrise. What are you gonna do?”