44 Charles Street

“That’s too bad,” he said, looking disappointed, and finally made it out the door, much to her relief. She sank down into the chair behind her desk, exhausted by the day halfway through it. Breakfast with her mother, and two hours with an indecisive client who asked her out to dinner was more than she wanted to deal with on any day of the week.

She called Marya to see if she had survived her mother’s grilling, and Marya assured her that she was fine.

“I had a very nice time with your mother. She’s certainly nothing like you.” Marya chuckled. She liked Thalia’s style, despite the fact that she was obviously spoiled, and somewhat eccentric.

“That’s the nicest thing you could have said,” Francesca commented, smiling. “All my life I’ve been terrified I’d wind up like her.”

“Not a chance,” Marya reassured her. “Have a nice day. I’ll see you tonight.” And as Francesca hung up and went to work at her desk, she had the comforting sensation that she had a new friend in Marya.

Chapter 7

THE FOLLOWING WEEK Francesca was insanely busy. She went to three artists’ studios, reorganized the racks where she stocked the paintings, returned old work that hadn’t sold to several artists, in order to make room for new pieces. And she made a list of the group shows that she wanted to do for the next year. It was always a challenge trying to figure out which artists to show together so that their work would enhance one another and not conflict. And in the midst of everything else she was doing, four of her artists dropped by that week just to hang out and visit. She always tried to be welcoming, as she was with her clients, but she was pressed for time and had a lot to do. And in the midst of all the activity in the gallery that week, she made several sales. Much to her amazement, the dentist of the weekend before called her and bought three paintings. New clients appeared, referred by other clients, two art consultants called her with big jobs, and a well-known interior designer stopped by and liked what she saw. Francesca was pleased. She got home late every night, and scarcely saw her roommates. And she was touched to find little notes in the kitchen from Marya, telling her what was in the fridge. It was Friday night before Francesca had time to breathe. Her mother had called her several times during the week, to comment about her roommates, but Francesca didn’t have time to talk to her, which was a relief.

She lay on her bed on Friday night, grateful that she had to work only one more day, and was thinking about spending Sunday in bed with a good book. There was nothing she wanted to do, and no one she wanted to see. And most unusually, that weekend, she knew that all of her tenants would be gone. Chris had said he was going away. Eileen announced on Friday morning that she was going skiing with a new man, and Marya had decided to go to Vermont for the weekend to check on things at her home. On Saturday night when she got home, Francesca was entirely alone. At first it felt wonderful, but she was startled to find on Sunday morning that she was lonely and depressed. Their presence on a daily basis was a shield from the ghosts in her past, the most alive of which was Todd. She hadn’t heard from him in more than a month, which told her that he had made the adjustment better than she had. In quiet moments, she still missed him. She was beginning to wonder if she always would. When she thought about it, she didn’t want their life back, but she missed him anyway.

And by Sunday afternoon she was feeling seriously sorry for herself, and missed her roommates. She couldn’t help wondering if Chris had had a date, although it was none of her business. He never brought women home and was extremely private.

By seven o’clock Sunday night, she was still alone. It made her realize what a blessing it was to have them there. She would have been miserable in the house on her own, with no one to talk to, and no sign of life.

She was making herself scrambled eggs for dinner, thinking about Marya’s delicious cooking, when she suddenly noticed a steady drip. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, and looked around the kitchen. It was coming through the ceiling at a rapid rate. There was a powder room above the kitchen, and when she went upstairs to check, she saw that there was a torrent coming through the ceiling from the floor above, where Chris’s bathroom was. They had had leaks from there before. She ran up the stairs, and there was water everywhere, it was coming right through the wall, probably from a broken pipe. She ran downstairs at full speed to grab a wrench and Todd’s tools, and panicking, she grabbed her cell phone and called him. He answered on the second ring.

“What do I do?” she shouted into the phone, and he tried to tell her. She put the phone down, tried what he had suggested, and nothing worked. The water was gushing harder than ever.