THE HAUNTING OF GENEVIEVE HARPER: LESSONS OF HINSDALE
Chapter One ~ Meet Cute
Genevieve Harper had endured two back-to-back orientation meetings that could have been emails. That was the funny thing about academia: for as smart as they were, they never applied it to their work. With an eye roll, Genevieve, Viv, to her family and friends, slung her purse across her body and grabbed her forearm crutches from the front seat of her car. The dashboard clock told her she had two hours until her appointment at Hinsdale Homes and Apartments.
When she stepped out into the noonday sun, a cold autumn breeze brushed her skin, reminding her that winter was coming to Honeysuckle, Minnesota, and she didn’t want to drive an hour each way to work once December arrived. You don’t grow up in Northern Minnesota and not learn winter driving skills, but in Viv’s opinion, why tempt fate? Especially since she had to use hand controls to drive, so tricky situations weren’t her favorite vibe, as the kids say. Once she ate, her next order of business was finding a suitable place to rest her head. The Hinsdale website looked right up her alley, where old-world charm meets modern conveniences.
When she accepted the position at the University of Minnesota, she knew she’d be a traveling professor, but she didn’t realize they’d want her to spend most of her time at the satellite campus in Honeysuckle. The city had a population of over twelve thousand, so it had plenty of things going for it, and she could see why they’d opened a campus there. They attracted students from all the small towns around and offered them an associate’s degree close to home. If they wanted to complete their bachelor's degree, they would transfer to one of the university’s other campuses after finishing their two years at the Honeysuckle Campus. The satellite campuses allowed students to earn their degrees while living at home to save money, giving everyone a chance at higher education.
Viv wasn’t opposed to living there. Big cities were fine, but she was a small-town girl at heart. She grew up in Little Finland, Minnesota, and attended the University of Minnesota, where she studied psychology. After earning her PhD, she worked in research at the university for several years before taking her first position as an associate professor in Wisconsin. When the opportunity to move back to Minnesota arose, she jumped at it. There was a small voice in her head that told her maybe she didn’t look quite as well as she should have before she leaped, but she refused to listen. Instead, she remained grateful for the position and committed to doing her best for her students.
The scent of spicy barbecue and mellow oak reached her, and she inhaled deeply while her stomach let out a passionate grumble. “I know you’re hungry,” she said, shaking her head. “I can only walk so fast.”
That was the truth. The ankle-foot orthoses she wore on each foot kept her upright, but she wouldn’t win any races with them. Then again, without them, she’d require her wheelchair, so she was thankful she had them. Along with her crutches for balance, she could do just about any activity required of her other than running, skipping, galloping, jumping…she laughed. Okay, so she had her limitations, but she still said whoever developed AFOs must have earned sainthood. After her stroke at the ripe old age of 18 months, she was left with lower limb paralysis that improved with therapy, but a full recovery wasn’t in the cards. Now, at nearly thirty-six, she knew nothing else.
She grabbed the door handle at Mike’s Ribs and More, pulling with a grunt at the heavy door. She leaned her shoulder into it, trying to hold it open just long enough to slide through the small gap before it closed again. She should ask the owner about installing an accessible door opener. This thing was heavy! She took a step forward as the door swung shut, hitting her left crutch. Twisting to avoid falling, she braced herself, but was caught halfway to the floor by strong arms.
“Whoa there!” The deep voice carried a tone of urgency, and she looked up into the chocolate brown eyes of a very handsome man. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, though her blood pounded through her veins. Maybe from the near fall or maybe from being in the arms of her dashing hero. “Fine, fine,” she said, gazing up at him. It was then that she realized they were standing in the middle of the restaurant, and he held her as though he’d dipped her at the end of a dance and kept her there in a freeze-frame. “Thanks for the assist. That could have been disastrous.”
“I’m just glad no harm was done,” he said, helping her stand again and picking up her purple bedazzled crutch. When he handed it back to her, he wore a grin. “Cute crutches. They’ve got style.”
Sliding it back onto her arm, she grabbed the handle and smiled. “Thanks. I figure, if you’ve got ‘em, flaunt ‘em.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m—”
“Oh, my gosh!” another man said, running up to them. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry! My name is Mike, I’m the owner here.”
Reluctantly, Viv shook the man’s hand. “I’m fine, thanks to this kind patron…” She motioned to the man on her left, but he was gone. He must have slipped away when Mike approached. Too bad she’d never know who Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was. “I guess he had somewhere to be,” she said to cover the awkwardness. “Anyway, I’m fine, but might I suggest you install an accessible door opener for that door? It’s very heavy.”
Mike nodded sheepishly. “Yes, it’s on the way. You’re the second person in two weeks who nearly fell over trying to open the door. Lunch is on the house. Please, come in,” he said, motioning her toward the ordering counter.
With one last look behind her, she couldn’t help but believe the saying, ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch.’ It might not cost her money to eat here today, but it did cost her knowledge. She’d never know the name of her dashing hero.
*
The lights flickered as Beckett Rice stepped into the elevator at Hinsdale Homes and Apartments. Most people would turn right around and take the stairs, but Beckett was used to the things that go bump in the night. The large building had been converted years ago from the old Hinsdale Senior High into upscale studio and one-bedroom apartments. There were sixteen units inside, along with the manager’s office and apartment. Outside, on what used to be the football field, were two sets of four two-bedroom condos. Doing the math, Beckett figured there were at least 40 tenants, soon to be 41.
As the man who looked after them all, Beckett was well-versed in the private lives of his tenants. He had single moms, single dads, single professionals, married social media influencers, teachers, a mailman, and several stay-at-home moms. Honestly, he knew more about some of them than he wanted to, and he hoped no one ever asked him to testify under oath. Over the ten years that he’d managed the building, he’d seen many come and go, at least the living. It was the spirits who stayed at Hinsdale long after their bodies were buried that kept him mystified. He’d seen several and heard even more over the years. They weren’t malevolent, but they were persistent. He just wished he knew what they wanted because he’d gladly help them. He wasn’t going as far as setting up a seance, though. He’d seen the Quija movies. No, thank you.
He pressed the button for the first floor, waiting impatiently for the ride to end. He could have taken the stairs, but his toolbox was heavy, and he was feeling lazy. The kid in ‘The Homeroom’ decided flushing Legos was a good idea. P.S., it wasn’t. Fortunately, he was able to unplug the toilet without calling a plumber.
The doors slid open, and he hurried down the corridor to the ‘Broom Closet,’ which was really his apartment. When they converted the old school into apartments, someone thought it was a great idea to name each unit after something from the school. They must have worked really hard to come up with ‘Broom Closet’ for the janitor’s apartment. He rolled his eyes again as he swiped his keycard to unlock the door. The one thing they got right when they remodeled the school was to include as many modern conveniences and technologies as possible. It made his life much easier when managing the building, and it made them a favorite among renters looking for all-inclusive perks. At Hinsdale, tenants get covered parking, free Wi-Fi, a free gym membership, firepits, patios with grills, and many other amenities you wouldn’t expect in a town this size. They had very little turnover, and when apartments came open, they rarely stayed vacant for long. He set his toolbox in the closet and glanced at the apartment next door. Correction: they only had one apartment with high turnover.
“Professor,” he called, walking into the apartment. “Are you hungry, boy?”
There was a ‘woof,’ and then nails skittered on the hardwood floor as his super mutt raced toward him. When Beckett found him as a puppy huddled under a car to stay warm, he’d brought him in with every intention of taking him to the humane society, but here they are, six years later. Beckett called him a super mutt because even the vet couldn’t figure out his true lineage. He liked to say Professor had a little bit of everything in him and the kitchen sink. Prof was a lover, though, and Beckett was grateful to have him when the nights were cold.
He dumped some kibble into his bowl and patted his head. “I’ll be right back. After I show the apartment, we’ll go for our trip around the block.” He was smart enough not to say walk aloud when the dog was within hearing distance if he couldn’t drop everything and do it that minute.
Leaving him to his dinner, he locked the door again and headed for the front entrance. He had a prospective tenant coming to see the place, and he didn’t want to be late. It sounded like a slam dunk, but he had thought that before and been wrong. The old school bell chimed twice. Two o’clock. He liked that they’d kept the old bell and used new technology to turn it into a grandfather clock for the residents.
A swirl of leaves caught his attention as the front doors slid open and a woman walked inside.
“You!” they said in unison.
Before him stood the woman he’d run into at Mike’s just a few hours ago.
She approached him, her cheeks rosy from the cold breeze, with a sweet smile on her face. “You disappeared before I could introduce myself and say thank you.”
“I apologize; I received a text that a tenant's toilet was clogged with Legos. Since she’s on the second floor, I couldn’t let it wait.”
“Legos?” she asked, raising her brow.
Her glasses distracted him for a moment. He’d never seen octagonal glasses before, but he loved how they highlighted her high cheekbones and made her blue eyes stand out behind the gold rims. “She has a four-year-old.”
’Nuff said.” Her laughter echoed through the halls, and he once again appreciated the old school. It always held the sound of laughter as though it was yesteryear. “I’m Genevieve Harper,” she said, dropping one crutch handle to extend her hand.
He almost lunged to catch the crutch until he realized it remained attached to her forearm. Relieved he hadn’t embarrassed himself again, he slipped his hand into hers. She gave his hand a firm shake, up and down, up and down, as if she was waiting for something. She was waiting for something. Oh! “Sorry, I’m Beckett Rice. I’m the manager of Hinsdale Homes and Apartments.”
“No way,” she said, dropping his hand to grab her crutch again. “What are the chances?”
“Higher than you might think, since Mike’s is within walking distance of Hinsdale and I love his barbecue pork.”
Her head tipped in acknowledgment. “I’ll give you that. It would be worth the walk, even with these.” She tapped the crutches together and then braced them back on the floor. “Now, about that apartment.”
With a nod, he motioned her toward the elevator. “Right, the apartment. You were interested in ‘The Study.’ It’s a one-bedroom, one bath.”
When she shook her head, he was confused. “No, I was supposed to see The Final Exam. It was a one-bedroom as well.”
Quickly, he replayed all of his communications with her in his head. They’d been emailing back and forth for several weeks, making it hard to remember everything. He wished he could pull out his phone and check, but that wouldn’t look professional. Then again, neither would what he was about to say next. “I’m sorry, there must have been some miscommunication. The Final Exam was rented a month ago. The only apartment we have open is The Study. Let’s take a ride up, and you can see for yourself.”
“Up?” she asked, rooted in the same spot. “It’s on the second floor?”
“Yes, but again, the elevator is just outside.”
When she scrunched up her nose, he suspected he was about to get an earful.
“I don’t want to rent an apartment on the second floor, elevator or not. Were it to stop working, how would I get up and down the stairs? When I can’t wear my braces, I have to use my wheelchair. As a woman with a disability, I never rent on the second floor. The least of the reasons is my disability. Have you ever lived in an apartment at the end of a hallway near an elevator? No, thank you.”
Well, she had him there. It wouldn’t be his first choice of places to live, either. The last tenant didn’t mind, but he was old and didn’t hear a thing.
“You must have something else available, right?” she asked, snapping him back to the conversation. “When we first spoke, you had The Final Exam on the first floor.”
“That was nearly a month ago, Genevieve. Our apartments rarely become available, so when they do, they fill up fast. When I didn’t hear back from you, I rented it to the next person on the waiting list.”
Her frown said it all. “When we first spoke, I didn’t have a solid answer on whether I’d be at this campus most of the time. I just found out last week when I emailed you back. That’s on me. I should have clarified, but you said you had an opening and I just assumed.”
Tucking his hands into his back pockets, he also frowned. “If you aren’t interested in the second floor, then I’m afraid I don’t have anything open right now.”
“Nothing?” she asked, biting her lip. “Maybe one of your tenants would be willing to switch apartments? I would pay for them to be transferred.”
“Good idea, but doubtful. The first-floor apartments are studios, and the second-floor apartments are one-bedroom, which means more rent.”
Her frown deepened, and she smacked her crutches on the floor once. “Will any be opening soon?” He couldn’t help but notice the hopeful look in her eyes. “I could drive back and forth for a few months if need be, but once the snow starts falling, I really need a place in town. From what I can see, no one has anything open. I’m going to be stuck taking the upstairs apartment, aren’t I?”
A cool breeze brushed his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Beckett flicked his head around, but no one had opened a door. His eye caught the one thing that was probably responsible for the breeze.
“I do have an open unit down here,” he said, surprising himself. What was he doing? That apartment stayed empty for a reason. It already had tenants.
“Thank goodness,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “Here I thought I’d have to risk my life by living on the second floor.”
“Risk your life?”
“If there were a fire, the elevator broke down, or I couldn’t get my braces on in time, I might be in trouble. I don’t like being at the mercy of others or feeling unsafe when I go to bed at night.”
She definitely couldn’t miss his grimace, but he plowed on anyway. “Then The Library may not be for you either.”
“Is it on the second floor?”
“No, it’s right down there,” he said, turning to point at the end of the hallway. “It’s next to my apartment.”
“Sounds perfect. I love a library! Show me!” she exclaimed, walking past him quickly down the hallway, her crutches clicking with each step.
By the time he reached her, she was standing in front of the door, waiting for him. “If you don’t want to feel unsafe when you go to bed at night, this isn’t the apartment for you.”
“Do you bite?” she asked, turning to face him.
“No, but it’s…um.” He paused, trying to figure out the best way to say it.
“It’s what?” she asked, her expression telling him she was losing patience.
“Haunted.”
Chapter Two
Genevieve blinked several times. She swore he said it was haunted. “It’s what now?” she asked, hoping he’d clarify.
“Haunted,” he repeated, his expression revealing that he didn’t say it often, or perhaps not at all.
“Ghosts and goblins, oh my!” she said, wiggling her fingers in the air. “All the scary things that go bump in the night.”
His brow raised, signaling that her sarcasm had struck a nerve. “Make light all you want, but I stopped renting this apartment years ago when it became a revolving door. Even Professor won’t go into the place.”
“You have another professor who lives here? Do I know them?” she asked, excited to meet her new colleagues.
His head tilted in confusion. “Wait, are you a professor?”
“Yes, that’s why I’ll be working at the college.”
Laughing, he slapped himself on the forehead. “I should have figured that out myself!”
He gestured toward his door, which she noticed had a sign that read, ‘Broom Closet.’ Whoever labeled these apartments clearly had too much free time.
“The professor I was talking about is my dog. I named him Professor when I found him hiding under one of the covered parking areas. It seemed to fit with the vibe.”
"Aww, I can’t wait to meet him!” she said, bouncing on her toes. “I love animals. I have a cat. That’s not a problem, right?”
“Pets are welcome as long as you pay the extra pet deposit. What kind of cat?”
“Siamese.”
He whistled a tune. “Makes me think of that Disney movie. What was that one?”
“Lady and the Tramp,” she supplied. Not only was he easy on the eyes, but he was engaging and had a great sense of humor. She wouldn’t mind being his neighbor for the foreseeable future. “His name is Sigmund.”
“As in Freud?”
“Who else?” she asked coyly. “I am a professor of psychology.”
“Well, that explains a few things,” he said, rocking back on his heels.
That wasn’t an uncommon statement when she told people what she did for a living. Instead of defending herself, she pointed toward the door. “Do the owners of the building realize that you’re losing money by leaving such a hot commodity sitting empty?”
“They’re aware,” he said dryly.
Leaning against the wall next to the sign that said, ‘The Library,’ she made eye contact and held it. “If you show it to me, and I like it, maybe you’ll get a raise when you rent it.”
“Highly unlikely,” he answered, as he rolled those beautiful brown eyes. “I’ll show it to you, but you’ll understand why no one stays the moment you walk in.”
She bit back the word, ‘doubtful,’ as he swiped a keycard across the coder, only because she couldn’t risk making him angry. If this really was the only apartment on the first floor, she’d have to rent it. Saying she was impressed with all the upgrades the building had was an understatement. Swiping keycards to open the apartments was genius and so helpful when her hands were always full with her crutches.
The door clicked open, and he held it for her. “Welcome to the library.”
Genevieve stepped inside and did a full 360. “Holy. Cow. This is fantastic.” Wandering around the room, she eyed the bookcases along the outside wall, the fine layer of dust revealing their recent disuse. “I’ve never seen a studio like this.”
“My apartment and office, this studio, and the one next door were the original library,” he explained, leaning against a built-in wooden desk. “They left the bookshelves as a way to divide the room for living space.” He pointed to the area where she was standing. “Bed there, surrounded by the bookshelves. This is your workspace, and the original librarian’s desk.”
She crutched past the low bookshelf separating them and walked to him, running her hand over the wood of the desk. “This couldn’t be more perfect for me. I always like to grade at home. Is the bathroom accessible?”
“Depends on how you define that,” he said, walking to a door and pushing it open. “The doors are wide enough for a wheelchair, but there isn’t a roll-in shower.”
Once he moved aside, she stepped in, surprised to see that the fixtures blended old-world charm with modern touches. The sink and toilet were up to date but featured replica handles and knobs from the 1900s. The shower, though not a roll-in, had a low lip and a curtain, making it easy for her to transfer to her shower chair. An excited thrill coursed through her, replacing her worries. She had found her home.
“The kitchen is full-size, but there isn’t much countertop space,” he said, breaking through her thoughts.
They returned to the main room, and for the first time, she focused on the kitchen. “This is incredible. I cannot believe how well they did mixing modern with historical and making it work.”
The kitchen had stainless steel appliances, including a full range and dishwasher. While he was right that there wasn’t much workspace, the narrow island between the kitchen and the living area could easily be used for food prep.
“The fridge isn’t the biggest,” he said. “But it’s…”
He paused, and she turned toward him, surprised when he reached into the fridge and pulled out a set of keys. “Did someone forget their keys in the fridge?” It was easy to hear the disbelief in her voice.
“No, these are my keys. They’ve been missing for a week.”
“You forgot them in the fridge?” Her confusion deepened with each question.
When he turned to her, he shook his head while staring at the keys. “I haven’t been in this apartment in a month.”
“Then how did the keys get in there?”
All he did was raise an eyebrow as he snapped the keys onto his belt.
“You think the ghosts put your keys in the fridge.”
“That’s not unusual. I should have remembered to check here when they went missing.”
Biting back her response, Genevieve paused to remember that Beckett believed what he did because of his experiences. She couldn’t dismiss those experiences just because she hadn’t had them and didn’t share his beliefs. Instead, she walked through the apartment again, giving him time to regain his footing.
“How much is the rent for the library?” she asked, pretending the last few moments hadn’t happened. “If I can swing it, I’d like to rent the place.”
Beckett shook his head. “I know you think you do, but I can’t in good conscience rent this place to you when I know you’ll be gone in less than a month.”
“You’re worried about the haunting of Genevieve Harper?” she asked, and he nodded, tipping his head at the end, but a smile played on his lips. “Trust me, that’s not a book you’ll ever read. To be haunted, you have to believe, and I don’t. No disrespect to you and those who do, but I don’t.”
He raised his hands as if he had finished arguing. “Your choice, but if you sign a lease, we will hold you to it. This apartment has changed tenants too many times to ignore that.”
“Can we possibly arrange a nine-month lease? I’m a new professor, so I won’t know if my position will be renewed until spring.”
Walking toward her, he finally nodded. “I can do that. Rent is $700 a month, with an extra $200 deposit for Sigmund. That includes covered parking. We have two accessible covered spots, so if you need one, please provide a copy of your accessible parking permit. Once I have that, I’ll assign you a spot so no one else takes it.”
“Wait, did you say $700 a month?” she asked, stopping outside the door as he pulled it shut.
“Is that too much?”
“How can that be enough? The one you were going to show me was priced at $1500.”
Motioning toward the apartment, he let his hand fall. “Right now, we’re getting zero dollars for it. If you’re willing to rent it, I’ll cut you a deal since I’m holding you to the lease.”
“You think I’m going to leave, so you don’t want to saddle me with $1500 rent when I can’t find a subletter,” she deduced.
“Call me a white knight,” he said, as he swiped open the door next to the sign that read, ‘The Office.’
She stepped inside, fighting back a grin. Not only had she found an affordable place to live, but she had also discovered her new research paper. The Haunting of Hinsdale Homes: How the Power of Suggestion Cultivates Hysteria.
Yes, that would work nicely, she thought as she sat down to fill out the lease. Glancing up to answer one of Beckett’s questions, she smiled. All of that and a hot as sin neighbor. Life was looking up.
When she shook her head, he was confused. “No, I was supposed to see The Final Exam. It was a one-bedroom as well.”
Quickly, he replayed all of his communications with her in his head. They’d been emailing back and forth for several weeks, making it hard to remember everything. He wished he could pull out his phone and check, but that wouldn’t look professional. Then again, neither would what he was about to say next. “I’m sorry, there must have been some miscommunication. The Final Exam was rented a month ago. The only apartment we have open is The Study. Let’s take a ride up, and you can see for yourself.”
“Up?” she asked, rooted in the same spot. “It’s on the second floor?”
“Yes, but again, the elevator is just outside.”
When she scrunched up her nose, he suspected he was about to get an earful.
“I don’t want to rent an apartment on the second floor, elevator or not. Were it to stop working, how would I get up and down the stairs? When I can’t wear my braces, I have to use my wheelchair. As a woman with a disability, I never rent on the second floor. The least of the reasons is my disability. Have you ever lived in an apartment at the end of a hallway near an elevator? No, thank you.”
Well, she had him there. It wouldn’t be his first choice of places to live, either. The last tenant didn’t mind, but he was old and didn’t hear a thing.
“You must have something else available, right?” she asked, snapping him back to the conversation. “When we first spoke, you had The Final Exam on the first floor.”
“That was nearly a month ago, Genevieve. Our apartments rarely become available, so when they do, they fill up fast. When I didn’t hear back from you, I rented it to the next person on the waiting list.”
Her frown said it all. “When we first spoke, I didn’t have a solid answer on whether I’d be at this campus most of the time. I just found out last week when I emailed you back. That’s on me. I should have clarified, but you said you had an opening and I just assumed.”
Tucking his hands into his back pockets, he also frowned. “If you aren’t interested in the second floor, then I’m afraid I don’t have anything open right now.”
“Nothing?” she asked, biting her lip. “Maybe one of your tenants would be willing to switch apartments? I would pay for them to be transferred.”
“Good idea, but doubtful. The first-floor apartments are studios, and the second-floor apartments are one-bedroom, which means more rent.”
Her frown deepened, and she smacked her crutches on the floor once. “Will any be opening soon?” He couldn’t help but notice the hopeful look in her eyes. “I could drive back and forth for a few months if need be, but once the snow starts falling, I really need a place in town. From what I can see, no one has anything open. I’m going to be stuck taking the upstairs apartment, aren’t I?”
A cool breeze brushed his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Beckett flicked his head around, but no one had opened a door. His eye caught the one thing that was probably responsible for the breeze.
“I do have an open unit down here,” he said, surprising himself. What was he doing? That apartment stayed empty for a reason. It already had tenants.
“Thank goodness,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “Here I thought I’d have to risk my life by living on the second floor.”
“Risk your life?”
“If there were a fire, the elevator broke down, or I couldn’t get my braces on in time, I might be in trouble. I don’t like being at the mercy of others or feeling unsafe when I go to bed at night.”
She definitely couldn’t miss his grimace, but he plowed on anyway. “Then The Library may not be for you either.”
“Is it on the second floor?”
“No, it’s right down there,” he said, turning to point at the end of the hallway. “It’s next to my apartment.”
“Sounds perfect. I love a library! Show me!” she exclaimed, walking past him quickly down the hallway, her crutches clicking with each step.
By the time he reached her, she was standing in front of the door, waiting for him. “If you don’t want to feel unsafe when you go to bed at night, this isn’t the apartment for you.”
“Do you bite?” she asked, turning to face him.
“No, but it’s…um.” He paused, trying to figure out the best way to say it.
“It’s what?” she asked, her expression telling him she was losing patience.
“Haunted.”
Chapter Two
Genevieve blinked several times. She swore he said it was haunted. “It’s what now?” she asked, hoping he’d clarify.
“Haunted,” he repeated, his expression revealing that he didn’t say it often, or perhaps not at all.
“Ghosts and goblins, oh my!” she said, wiggling her fingers in the air. “All the scary things that go bump in the night.”
His brow raised, signaling that her sarcasm had struck a nerve. “Make light all you want, but I stopped renting this apartment years ago when it became a revolving door. Even Professor won’t go into the place.”
“You have another professor who lives here? Do I know them?” she asked, excited to meet her new colleagues.
His head tilted in confusion. “Wait, are you a professor?”
“Yes, that’s why I’ll be working at the college.”
Laughing, he slapped himself on the forehead. “I should have figured that out myself!”
He gestured toward his door, which she noticed had a sign that read, ‘Broom Closet.’ Whoever labeled these apartments clearly had too much free time.
“The professor I was talking about is my dog. I named him Professor when I found him hiding under one of the covered parking areas. It seemed to fit with the vibe.”
"Aww, I can’t wait to meet him!” she said, bouncing on her toes. “I love animals. I have a cat. That’s not a problem, right?”
“Pets are welcome as long as you pay the extra pet deposit. What kind of cat?”
“Siamese.”
He whistled a tune. “Makes me think of that Disney movie. What was that one?”
“Lady and the Tramp,” she supplied. Not only was he easy on the eyes, but he was engaging and had a great sense of humor. She wouldn’t mind being his neighbor for the foreseeable future. “His name is Sigmund.”
“As in Freud?”
“Who else?” she asked coyly. “I am a professor of psychology.”
“Well, that explains a few things,” he said, rocking back on his heels.
That wasn’t an uncommon statement when she told people what she did for a living. Instead of defending herself, she pointed toward the door. “Do the owners of the building realize that you’re losing money by leaving such a hot commodity sitting empty?”
“They’re aware,” he said dryly.
Leaning against the wall next to the sign that said, ‘The Library,’ she made eye contact and held it. “If you show it to me, and I like it, maybe you’ll get a raise when you rent it.”
“Highly unlikely,” he answered, as he rolled those beautiful brown eyes. “I’ll show it to you, but you’ll understand why no one stays the moment you walk in.”
She bit back the word, ‘doubtful,’ as he swiped a keycard across the coder, only because she couldn’t risk making him angry. If this really was the only apartment on the first floor, she’d have to rent it. Saying she was impressed with all the upgrades the building had was an understatement. Swiping keycards to open the apartments was genius and so helpful when her hands were always full with her crutches.
The door clicked open, and he held it for her. “Welcome to the library.”
Genevieve stepped inside and did a full 360. “Holy. Cow. This is fantastic.” Wandering around the room, she eyed the bookcases along the outside wall, the fine layer of dust revealing their recent disuse. “I’ve never seen a studio like this.”
“My apartment and office, this studio, and the one next door were the original library,” he explained, leaning against a built-in wooden desk. “They left the bookshelves as a way to divide the room for living space.” He pointed to the area where she was standing. “Bed there, surrounded by the bookshelves. This is your workspace, and the original librarian’s desk.”
She crutched past the low bookshelf separating them and walked to him, running her hand over the wood of the desk. “This couldn’t be more perfect for me. I always like to grade at home. Is the bathroom accessible?”
“Depends on how you define that,” he said, walking to a door and pushing it open. “The doors are wide enough for a wheelchair, but there isn’t a roll-in shower.”
Once he moved aside, she stepped in, surprised to see that the fixtures blended old-world charm with modern touches. The sink and toilet were up to date but featured replica handles and knobs from the 1900s. The shower, though not a roll-in, had a low lip and a curtain, making it easy for her to transfer to her shower chair. An excited thrill coursed through her, replacing her worries. She had found her home.
“The kitchen is full-size, but there isn’t much countertop space,” he said, breaking through her thoughts.
They returned to the main room, and for the first time, she focused on the kitchen. “This is incredible. I cannot believe how well they did mixing modern with historical and making it work.”
The kitchen had stainless steel appliances, including a full range and dishwasher. While he was right that there wasn’t much workspace, the narrow island between the kitchen and the living area could easily be used for food prep.
“The fridge isn’t the biggest,” he said. “But it’s…”
He paused, and she turned toward him, surprised when he reached into the fridge and pulled out a set of keys. “Did someone forget their keys in the fridge?” It was easy to hear the disbelief in her voice.
“No, these are my keys. They’ve been missing for a week.”
“You forgot them in the fridge?” Her confusion deepened with each question.
When he turned to her, he shook his head while staring at the keys. “I haven’t been in this apartment in a month.”
“Then how did the keys get in there?”
All he did was raise an eyebrow as he snapped the keys onto his belt.
“You think the ghosts put your keys in the fridge.”
“That’s not unusual. I should have remembered to check here when they went missing.”
Biting back her response, Genevieve paused to remember that Beckett believed what he did because of his experiences. She couldn’t dismiss those experiences just because she hadn’t had them and didn’t share his beliefs. Instead, she walked through the apartment again, giving him time to regain his footing.
“How much is the rent for the library?” she asked, pretending the last few moments hadn’t happened. “If I can swing it, I’d like to rent the place.”
Beckett shook his head. “I know you think you do, but I can’t in good conscience rent this place to you when I know you’ll be gone in less than a month.”
“You’re worried about the haunting of Genevieve Harper?” she asked, and he nodded, tipping his head at the end, but a smile played on his lips. “Trust me, that’s not a book you’ll ever read. To be haunted, you have to believe, and I don’t. No disrespect to you and those who do, but I don’t.”
He raised his hands as if he had finished arguing. “Your choice, but if you sign a lease, we will hold you to it. This apartment has changed tenants too many times to ignore that.”
“Can we possibly arrange a nine-month lease? I’m a new professor, so I won’t know if my position will be renewed until spring.”
Walking toward her, he finally nodded. “I can do that. Rent is $700 a month, with an extra $200 deposit for Sigmund. That includes covered parking. We have two accessible covered spots, so if you need one, please provide a copy of your accessible parking permit. Once I have that, I’ll assign you a spot so no one else takes it.”
“Wait, did you say $700 a month?” she asked, stopping outside the door as he pulled it shut.
“Is that too much?”
“How can that be enough? The one you were going to show me was priced at $1500.”
Motioning toward the apartment, he let his hand fall. “Right now, we’re getting zero dollars for it. If you’re willing to rent it, I’ll cut you a deal since I’m holding you to the lease.”
“You think I’m going to leave, so you don’t want to saddle me with $1500 rent when I can’t find a subletter,” she deduced.
“Call me a white knight,” he said, as he swiped open the door next to the sign that read, ‘The Office.’
She stepped inside, fighting back a grin. Not only had she found an affordable place to live, but she had also discovered her new research paper. The Haunting of Hinsdale Homes: How the Power of Suggestion Cultivates Hysteria.
Yes, that would work nicely, she thought as she sat down to fill out the lease. Glancing up to answer one of Beckett’s questions, she smiled. All of that and a hot as sin neighbor. Life was looking up.
