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“Yeah,” Lincoln said, “sure, let’s talk to him.” If he forgets to fix the toilet, he’ll give you an amends.” One of those alcoholics that doesn’t drink. “We can talk to Nate, the super, on the way out if you want. “Is it hard to get into this building?”īut if he was …This was exactly the sort of place he’d want. He looked out the window over the sink and down into the courtyard. “Like anything.” She was opening the kitchen drawers, making sure she hadn’t left anything behind. Lincoln reached out to touch the Bakelite handle. There was a rotary phone attached to the wall. The fridge was new, but the rest of the room did indeed know the difference between Red Skelton and Red Buttons. You should see my new kitchen-wall-to-wall Corian.” Lincoln checked out the kitchen. Those countertops have been here since World War Two. There was a tiny bathroom through another door, with a freestanding tub and an old- fashioned sink (small, with separate taps for hot and cold water). Back there’s the bedroom.” Lincoln walked through a doorway into the sun-filled bedroom. “Do you want the thirty-second grand tour?” The wood floors were dark and scratched, and the light fixture looked like something you’d see in an old opera house. Lincoln looked around the living room, at the high tin ceiling and creamy plaster walls.
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There was nothing left in the apartment but the Bubble-Wrapped cabinet. “They turned off the heat already, and I’m freezing. Lincoln wondered how Doris had made it up all these stairs every day with her bad knee. “Come on up.” It smelled good in the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor,” she yelled down.
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Lincoln ran up her front steps, brushing the snow off his hair, and pressed the button by her name.