Page 92 of You'll Love it Here

She’s already backing toward the staircase. “Me too. But I guess we’re all going to be starting new lives again now, so I’ll be off.”

I wait in the lobby for her footsteps to disappear before I dare follow.

As I leave my apartment, boxes of clothes in hand, I notice Irene’s door is open.

I put down my stuff and walk over. I don’t see anyone. Theplants that were once scattered throughout her apartment are now gathered neatly in milk crates by the door.

I rap my knuckles against the wood.

From the back of the apartment, she yells, “Oh for crying out loud, I said don’t rush me! You try packing your entire life into a bunch of Tupperware containers!”

Her bedroom door flies open. Irene emerges in a matching pink sweatsuit, face flushed. She’s on two feet, the boot gone.

“Irene!” I call. “Your cast is off.”

“Yes. Exciting how that can happen after six weeks, isn’t it?’ Her lips are pressed tight. “What can I do you for now? Did Lana ask you to rifle through my silverware because I’m too old to eat solids? Or maybe you’re looking to kidnap Ernest for the ransom? Because he’s out with Sami, so you’ll have to wait.”

My chest leaps at Sami’s name, just as quickly as it drops.

“Irene,” I say softly, “I understand why you’re upset with me. I want to formally apologize for all of it.”

“Those are pretty words.” Her eyes tilt downward. “If you’d brought ice cream, though, that would’ve been better.”

I can’t stand seeing this proud, boisterous woman looking so defeated. “Irene, I truly mean—”

She hacks a short laugh. “Mona, please stop apologizing. It’s very annoying.”

I can’t stand walking away from her without her knowing how much it tears me up to know how I hurt her. “When I first agreed to help Lana, I thought I was helping you too. I should’ve realized—”

“Goddamnit, Iaccept.” She throws her hands above her head. “Truth is, I understand the reasoning behind it all. Things weren’t good here, and Lana was right about that. I really did have no option but to sell. All you did was clean things up around here. No one signed those papers but me.”

I fight the urge to go to her, to offer her support. I hate that she’s blaming herself. But the fact that she might be willing to forgive me—that alone fills my heart with a flicker of hope.

“It still stings knowing you worked with Lana and never spoke to me about it.” Irene looks down at her orthopedic slippers. “I’d been your landlord for years and Lana just met you, but you trusted her more than the lady who put a roof over your head and looked past your questionable fashion choices.” She squints at my pants. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’ve lost my senses.”

I nod furiously. “You’re absolutely right. I should’ve respected you more.” I pause, considering my words, how generic they sound. I want her to understand how much I mean it. So I add, “You know, doing this job for even a few weeks—I realize how truly hard it is. What an amazing landlady you’ve been to all these people.”

Her lips twitch at this. “Well, thanks. I’m sure when I’m alone at the retirement home with a room the size of my asshole, those words will be of great comfort.” She shuffles toward a pile of shoeboxes that seem to have been repurposed for knitting supplies. “Now, I should get a move on.”

I glance around her apartment—chaotic and worn with age. She grew up here. Some of the ancient furniture pieces probably belonged to her parents. It hurts to think of her walking away from an entire life built within these walls. Everything she’s seen and done taken away from her that fast.

“Irene, I want to help you.”

“Oh, good god.” She rolls her eyes. “We talked about this.”

I put up my hands in a placating gesture. “I know. And this time it’s you in the driver’s seat. But I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with corporate assholes—hell, I used to be one. Maybe I can help you turn the tide.”

She finally backs away enough to let me past the threshold, and she shuffles to her favorite chair. “Okay, I’m listening.”

The firemen eventually collect us from Irene’s unit and help us carry the rest of our things down the stairs. The streetlamps are on. Irene’s ancient car is parked on the street, so I help her load it up. I’m halfway inside the trunk trying to Tetris the boxes into place when footsteps sound on the pavement behind us, along with a familiar wheezing sound.

I peer up and find Ernest straining against his leash with all his might, eyes bugging out as he leaps on his hind legs toward me.

Sami laughs breathlessly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into the guy. He was like a horse to a barn as soon as we got up—” Sami cuts himself off at the sight of me. His expression freezes.

A tight drumbeat pulses in my chest, and a flush creeps up my temples. I focus on the tube bouncing against my legs, petting the soft fur of his head.

“Thank you, Sami,” Irene calls, yet she’s focused her knowing little grin on me. “Would you mind helping Mona with her boxes? She left them in the lobby.”