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„No. This is my very sweet way of telling you that it’s nice to hear signs of life up here. I was begi
„Oh. Well.“ Mel is pretty light on his feet for someone his size. „I used to enjoy all sorts of music but all my parents ever listened to was Rock from the fifties and sixties and… well, I’ve been cleaning and I found some old tapes, but if it’s too loud for you, I can turn it down.“
„It’s fine for me. I love music, too. And it’s not that loud. I only used it as an excuse to come up here and see for myself what’s been going on,“ she said frankly, once again trying to peer inside the apartment. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at the furniture in the middle of the room, the boxes and bare walls. „What is going on up here? You’ve got Joe and Martha worried, too. Marty said she came across the hall one day last week to see how you were doing and she thought she heard you talking to yourself in here.“ She stepped into the apartment as Charlotte stepped back to let her in.
„Maybe it was the television.“
„That’s what I said. But she said it was too early in the day, that you never turn it on until the news hour.“
„Yeah. Well. Maybe I’m getting sick of being so predictable. Maybe I had it on just to mess with her head.“ She leaned out the door to glower at her neighbor’s door across the large empty hallway. Busybody.
„She was worried.“ She put her hands on her hips and looked around. „It looks like you’re redecorating.“
„Well, the furniture’s old and…“
„And it’s not yours, is it? Thank the Lord.“ She threw her hands in the air. „I was afraid you were thinking of moving. When you get to be my age and you have good neighbors, you like to keep them. So, you’re changing everything. Fantastic! What color have you decided on for the walls in here?“
„I haven’t yet. I was…“
„Yes, you have. Tell her,“ Mel said.
„Red.“
„Red?“
„Not bright red. Ah… a deep, warm Chinese red with a rich cream-colored trim, I think. And I want to pull up the rugs and refinish the hardwood floors, then put down an area rug… maybe something oriental with lush greens and that yellowish gold color…“ Her voice trailed off. Mrs. Kludinski didn’t need all the details to call the scheme grotesque.
„And a lovely blue, too, and maybe more of the red in the rug to pull it together because it sounds just fabulous. Charlotte, I’m so proud of you. It’s about time you cut loose and let that bright, colorful personality of yours shine.“
„You see?“ Mel folded his arms across his chest. „Bold is beautiful. And thinking outside the neutral box is creative, not crazy.“
„And what is this you have going on over here?“ She walked slowly toward the far wall, lifting the glasses that hung at her bosom up to her nose as she carefully examined the wide and varied assortment of pictures taped thereon.
„Oh, that’s a… sort of a shopping spree waiting to happen. You shop all the time, but I find all the styles and colors and… everything in the stores overwhelming. Too many choices. Too many decisions. I… I thought if I knew pretty much what 1 was looking for and what I didn’t want, ahead of time, it would be easier.“
„So organized and logical.“ She wasn’t making a judgment, just taking note as she sca
„Just a change, really.“ She sighed, resigned to the truth. „Yes. Improvement. Big time.“
„Yes. Indeed.“ She stepped back to see the bigger picture. „And the men in black leather?“
Charlotte’s whole body cringed with embarrassment and she squeaked as she quickly ripped several of Mel’s donations off the wall. „Those are… you know… just… nothing.“
Mrs. Kludinski’s smirk relaxed as she continued to study the wall.
„Fascinating. One style so… conservative.“
„She means boring“ Mel said, I told you so written all over his face.
„And the other so… revealing.“
„Slutty.“ She pi
„Gracious, no!“ Mrs. Kludinski looked surprised, and not by the word. „Revealing as in expressive, interesting, intriguing. It’s fine to cover yourself neck to toe in these lovely suits for business if you want, if dressing like a man helps you feel as powerful as a man. But the rest of the time… well, I would love to see you – all women really – be open and honest and proud of your female form, no matter what shape it is.“
„I couldn’t have said that better myself.“ Mel nodded and smiled fondly at the old lady.
„But all that skin… Professionally, I can’t – “
„Dear Charlotte.“ A sage smile curved her thin lips, and her pale blue eyes were positively wicked. „There is more power in the curve of a woman’s neck and the turn of her ankle than in ten male bodies put together. And with every additional inch of leg and cleavage shone, the strength increases tenfold.“
„Oh my.“ Mel was impressed.
„It’s how you use the power that defines your professionalism. Until you get to be my age, of course. Then it’s wise to have an alternate power source. Like money.“ She laughed.
But Charlotte was only half-listening as she reconsidered the pictures on the wall. „What if we compromise and do a little of both? I don’t want to be too intimidating.“ She gri
„There you go. Or this little strapless sheath with the shorter bolero jacket. Or even just a little thin shawl while they’re still in style.“ They made several other possible combinations, lifting the pictures off the wall and retaping them closer together, laughing when they didn’t quite work and gasping with pleasure when they did. „There. See? Show enough to be enticing, leave a little to mystery, and avoid being so mysterious you’re like the grab bag at a charity auction.“
Mel whistled. „I bet this old broad was hell on wheels when she was young.“
Mrs. Kludinski turned as if she’d heard him, but only looked around the room again. „I also know of a nice young man who does a good job painting. He’s reasonable and fast. Would you like his number?“
„Well, we were… I was…“ She heard Mel moan laboriously behind her. She wasn’t all that keen on doing the job herself either. She realized it was the nice young man that had her balking. „He isn’t single is he?“
„I don’t know. It didn’t come up while he was painting my guest room last fall, and I didn’t ask. Does it matter?“
„No. Not really.“ She felt foolish. She wasn’t really the sad victim of an international blind-date conspiracy – it just felt as if she was sometimes.
Shortly after the varnish dried on the freshly sanded floors, the air in the apartment grew thick with the smell of latex paint.
Guy Westfield, the painter, was a prompt and efficient man in his early thirties, who liked to stand around and talk in the mornings if Charlotte didn’t make herself scarce.
„He’s a sociable guy, our Guy,“ Mel said, following her into her office, where she’d spent most of the previous two days hiding from the painter.
Mel didn’t usually join her in the office. When she worked, when she needed time to herself, he was very good about sensing it and getting out of her way for a while. And then he would just be there later, as if he were simply returning from the kitchen with a glass of water or had been reading in another room. It was one of his many tricks that she appreciated, and didn’t question – it was best not to question.