Page 29 of The Serendipity

I really need to find a guy I like enough to bring home so maybe she’ll finally start to believe me.

“I dodged a bullet,” I tell her, scrubbing a bowl a little harder than necessary. “Trust me. More like dodging a cannonball.”

“What about bird poop?” Dad is asking, and Mom and I both chuckle.

I wonder if Dad is coming up with these on the fly or if he has some kind of script memorized. Either way, he’s pretty amazing. Too bad this isn’t a skill he could monetize.

“We have a lot of crows around here. If there’s a buildup of bird poop, how does that impact the functionality, the ability of the panels to gather solar rays?”

“Should we stop him at some point?” I ask.

“Oh, Willa. Let him have his fun. We all need something to spark joy in life, even if it’s being a complete and utter pest to telemarketers.”

Honestly, I don’t disagree with her there.

But the sad thing, I realize as I rinse out bowls and spoons, is that I don’t even know if I have something as silly as messing with telemarketers to spark joy in my own life.

Chapter Six

Archer

“Maybe firingthe building manager wasn’t the best starting move,” Bellamy says, propping his feet up on my coffee table.

I frown. My new furniture has only been set up a few days, and he’s already putting his shoes on it. I clear my throat pointedly, and Bellamy rolls his eyes and lets his feet drop to the floor dramatically.

“I didn’t mean tofirehim,” I say, returning to the argument Bellamy and I have rehashed several times over the last two days. “He could have stayed on, just not with housing included in his package. It was a renegotiation of terms.”

“With no negotiating,” Bellamy points out.

My father started entrusting me with his various businesses and investments when I was in my early twenties. I’ve handled mergers. Acquisitions. Market expansions. Weathered (attempted) hostile takeovers. Those kinds of stressful, high stakes situations are where I thrive.

And yet, so far I’m drowning in the details of managing one little apartment building.

Not that The Serendipity is necessarily little. With four floors and sixty-one apartments, it houses just over one hundred people. And it’s the people who are the problem.

“The least he could have done was give notice before disappearing.”

Bellamy doesn’t argue further, but he doesn’t need to. He’s made it clear multiple times that he disagreed with my decision.

Who else would want to rent a basement apartment, anyway?he asked.Now you’ll have an almost unusable space and no building manager.

He’s right, of course. But as unhappy as John was to hear that his apartment would no longer be included as part of his salary package, I didn’t expect the quiet older man to simplydisappear. When I went down to find him after he stopped answering his phone, the basement apartment was completely devoid of any signs of life. John left nothing but the furnishings. Which may have belonged to The Serendipity in the first place. I have no way of knowing without calling Galentine to ask, which, less than a full week into my tenure as the new owner, would feel like some kind of failure. A concession of defeat.

Plus, I doubt she’s reachable on her cruise.

I can handle this. Ican. I just need to find someone (orsomeones) to fill John’s role. And fast. It would be easier if I could find a previous job application or a full description of the building manager position. But the only resource I have for knowing what John’s job entailed (besides a general Google search) is from the complaints I’m now receiving.

Because it appears that before leaving, John gave out my phone number. To the entire building. Now, I’m going to have to get a new phone.

But first, I need to get a new person to handle all of this.

Because I certainly don’t have the time or the ability to unclog a kitchen sink on the third floor, fix the hissing radiator, and empty the various trash cans around the building into … wherever trash is emptied. I tug at my collar.

“Can you blame him?” Bellamy asks, popping a cookie into his smiling mouth.

Those cookies.

All week long as we’ve plowed through my task list together, I’ve had to suffer through watching Bellamy scarf down Willa’s cookies. Listening to him chew and make happy little moans. Having my apartment infused with the scent of almond and vanilla, which lingers even after he heads back to his hotel each night.

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