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  “So Zoe, where do you work?” Sarah asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

  “Oh . . . not far.” Zoe replied cagily. “So, what do you girls do on the weekend? Do you go out much to the clubs?” Zoe looked directly at Maggie and Kerry. Kerry brightened a bit about a subject she was interested in and rambled on about the clubs they hit, which ones were good and the music scene in general. Sarah listened – although, with only a few weeks on the job she had already heard this countless times and could probably recite their clubbing list.

  Zoe turned to Sarah, “And what about you, Sarah? Do you go out much on the weekends?”

  “No, I just moved here from Connecticut. I’ve been getting settled in, so I haven’t really been out much.”

  “Well you should get out – Boston is a great city . . . you would be surprised with the number of fun places and cultural events we have here. Not quite as much as what you might be used to in New York . . .”

  “How did you know I lived in New York?”

  “Oh . . . I could just hear it in your voice. You must have picked up a little of the New York accent.”

  Sarah laughed, “That’s funny, New Yorkers could always tell I wasn’t from New York when I lived there by my accent. Maybe some of the accent did wear off on me.”

  “Well let’s get you out in Boston. This weekend! I’ll scout out a place for dinner and then someplace fun afterwards! You shouldn’t just sit in on a Saturday night.”

  “Sounds like fun! Thanks Zoe.”

  Kerry shot her friend Maggie a sideways look.

  “Just give me your number and I will call you Friday.”

  Sarah wrote down her cell number on the back of one of her newly arrived business cards. “Here you go, do you have a card?”

  “Gee, no I don’t. I’m getting a new cell, too. I will call you at the end of the week and by then I am sure I will have it all sorted out.” Taking the card she slid it into her pocketbook and promptly stood to leave.

  The women cleaned up their table and gathered their coats as Zoe walked out the door. Maggie, who had not uttered a word throughout lunch, seemed to let out her breath. “Where on earth did you find her?”

  “She seemed very nice,” Sarah replied

  “She was creepy with a capital C.” Kerry cut in. “She was asking you a lot of questions, Sarah. Didn’t you think that was odd?”

  “And how could she tell you lived in New York – you don’t sound like a New Yorker.”

  “Good guess?" Sarah paused, and then smiled, with a shake of her head, "No, she just seems like an open and curious person.”

  “Not open enough to say anything about herself.” Maggie pointed out, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

  “I didn’t get a good vibe from her.” Kerry added.

  “She seemed nice enough to me.” Sarah said shaking off the feeling that maybe Zoe was a little too curious.

  They were out on the street a few minutes later and said their goodbyes to Maggie. Sarah tucked her scarf into her coat and the two quickly made their way up Boylston against the wind back to Muddy River.

  Chapter 6

  Zoe, being true to her word, called on Friday. She had found a great restaurant for Saturday night in the South End, close to Sarah. They dined there and then walked over to a little jazz bar where they had a few drinks. Sarah quickly surmised Zoe was not only a magnet for men but thrived on the attention. Sarah with her preppy style and long, straight dirty blond hair didn’t have the same effect but she enjoyed the night.

  Sarah’s phone rang late Sunday morning as she was making a cup of coffee, still in her pajamas and slippers. The sound startled her, as it echoed through the quiet apartment. Sarah reached over the counter to grab the phone.

  “Hey girlfriend, how’s Beantown?” Lisa’s voice merrily chirped on the phone.

  “Hi Lisa, so far it’s great!” Sarah curled up on the couch with her coffee to chat with her friend. Lisa had been a neighbor, classmate and best friend growing up in the small town of Berlin. She was always quick with a dimpled smile and kept her hair short in a pixie cut which made her cheek bones and large brown eyes very pronounced. The two were inseparable until college and then Sarah’s choice of New York for a career, but she was the one she confided in and relied upon when that world fell apart.

  “I love it here. I miss home of course, but this was a great move for me.”

  “And the new job?”

  “It’s been busy and I was filling in for someone last week but I got the project done. I think I will start getting my own assignments soon. It’s a lot less hierarchal than Goodhart & Baker was, and much smaller too, which gives me a chance to get ahead.”

  “Have you met anyone yet? Any interesting men in the office?”

  “Nope, no men. The receptionist at work has been nice and has included me with some of her friends for lunch. And, I did meet a nice girl who I had dinner with last night so at least I am making friends in the city.”

  “Oh, that’s good. I was going to offer to come up next weekend. I’m dying to see your new place. By your email, it sounds absolutely perfect.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea! I’d love a visitor.”

  After hanging up, she took a nap and then finally started her typical Sunday afternoon chores. Late in the afternoon, down in the basement as Sarah started her last load of wash into the dryer, the coin slot became stuck.

  “Now what?” She half-whispered, talking to herself in the empty basement. She pushed and pulled at the coin slide but nothing happened. After a few minutes she decided she needed help.

  Sarah climbed the stairs to the first floor doorway into the main lobby and turned right to the hallway off the main foyer. Mason Brown's apartment was at the end of the hall at the back of the building. She knocked on his door and listened for movement inside. As she was about to knock again she heard Mason’s strong, deep voice from the other side.

  “Can I help you, Miss Carter?”

  “I was just doing laundry and the coin slide isn’t sliding on the dryer. It’s stuck half in and half out. Can you help me?”

  “I will be down in a minute. You can go back up to your apartment and I will give you a call once I am done.”

  “Ok, thank you.”

  Sarah started up the stairs from the lobby to her apartment but remembered the load of dry clothes that were still sitting in the basket in the basement. She turned back around and cut through the lobby to access the basement door, making her way through the back hallway and down the stairs to the laundry room. The basket had all her coloreds that she had folded as she removed from the now broken dryer just minutes ago.

  She picked up the wicker basket and turned towards the stairs. As she did, something caught her eye. The wall behind the stairs running the length of the basement didn’t seem to belong. She hadn’t given the wall much thought on her one other trip to the laundry room. The wall had been covered with all the shovels, rakes, and coiled hoses hanging from hooks and other outside lawn equipment leaning against it. Inspecting the wall a little closer, she noticed it ended very close to one of the window frames, and the basement must be much narrower than the floor above. Plus, the other walls were plastered or open wood, and this wall was brick.

  Not only did the wall seem to not belong there, but as she walked deeper into the darkness towards the front of the building, she realized there was no door to get to that other side.

  As Sarah followed the wall, deeper into the dark end of the basement, she could see some light ahead from the windows at the far end of the basement. After her eyes adjusted she noticed sheets covering what looked like piles of furniture. There were also some boxes stacked randomly with the furniture and a tall, ornate coat stand that she could easily envision standing in the grand foyer upstairs. Near the windows at the front of the building, hanging from the ceiling off what appeared to be the carrying beam of the building, was a large, flat stone. Looped through a hole cut in the center of t
he stone was a chain that was suspending the stone. Several large brass bells also were scattered about, hanging from hooks and one sitting in the cobwebby front basement window. "Curious objects to be hanging down here," she whispered aloud to herself in the otherwise silent underground room.

  Turning back to her original hunt for a door, she thought there had to be another side to the basement. It appeared that this side she was in was only under half the house. The windows were tall and the ceilings high enough, so maybe the other side was used as part of the landlords or 1B’s apartment? But would Mason, or the other single fellow in 1B, need that much space?

  Hearing movement overhead, she quickly returned to the other end of the basement, kicking up small stones and pebbles that littered the otherwise well-kept basement. As she started up the first stair tread she saw Mason, holding the railing as he painfully made his way down the wooden stairs. The other hand was holding an old fashioned wooden tool box; open topped like the kind she remembered her grandpa George as having. Both hands were twisted with arthritis or some ailment and from where she was only a few feet away and at eye level, she could see they were covered with reddish-purple marks and bumps that looked sore. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

  “I thought I told you to go upstairs and wait for my call?” His tone was brusque and Sarah immediately felt like she a child caught doing something wrong.

  “I, um . . . yes, you did but I had left this basket down here when I came to get you. I’m heading up now.”

  Hesitating, it didn’t look like she would easily make it by him on the stairs so she quickly backed off the first step and stepped back so he could pass. Absentmindedly, she pulled at her earlobe, a trait she had as a child if she ever got spoken to or nervous. Mason descended the stairs; face averted under the brim of his plain black military cap, and set his tool box down on the cement floor.

  Keeping his back to Sarah, he said with a softer tone, “Sorry, that was very rude of me, miss.” He reached over and pushed the slide with the quarters in with force and pulled the slide back out. The machine started its rolling, tumbling noise.

  “That’s great! How did you do that?”

  Mason Brown still didn’t turn around, but answered, “It just needed a little strength. I will work on it later so you don’t have this trouble again.” There was a hint of finality in his voice.

  “Well, thanks again. I’ll be heading up now.” She turned to go and looked over her shoulder to see him still facing the machines, waiting for her to leave. She thought about asking about the wall, but decided not to have him think she was snooping.

  Holding the wicker basket on her hip, Sarah entered her apartment a few minutes later and brought the laundry directly to her bedroom. Flopping on the bed, she rolled onto her back to face the ceiling thinking about the encounter in the basement. He must be a very lonely man, she thought, but she got the sense he wasn’t always that way. He was well mannered, obviously handy so he must have learned from someone, and he was quick to recognize his rude response and apologize. Who is Mason Brown? Her researcher's mind couldn’t help but wonder about her mysterious landlord.

  Popping off the bed, Sarah grabbed her laptop and booted it up. First she tried Googling Mason Brown. Nothing but a few references to a long dead drama critic, a musician and a designer down south, followed by various LinkedIn and Facebook accounts and eight more pages that contained no reference she could find to the Mason Brown of Dunhill Street. Then she Googled their address: again, not much of anything except maps, a building permit, and some other erroneous listings that included Dunhill Street in general. Tapping her fingers on the keyboard, she thought about her next move but was quickly distracted by the ring of her cell phone on her nightstand.

  “Sarah! It’s Zoe.” Sarah could almost see the dazzling smile and sparkly eyes as the lively voice poured out of her cell phone.

  “Hey, Zoe. What a great night last night!”

  “It was fun. I am so glad we tried that restaurant. How’s your day going?”

  Sarah flopped back down on the bed. “Good, just hanging out, getting some laundry done. I am beat though . . . haven’t had a late night like that for a while.” Sarah closed her eyes and realized just how tired she was. “I have one load left in the dryer and I am done, though.”

  “Laundry, huh. Is there laundry in your unit or in the building? Or do you have to go out?”

  Sarah got the same feeling she had experienced the night before – that Zoe asked a lot of questions for someone she was just getting to know. Maybe people are just like that here, but back home in Connecticut she didn’t remember meeting people who were quite as inquisitive.

  “It’s in the building’s basement. I just got the coins stuck and had to bother the landlord to fix it.”

  Surprisingly, there was silence on the line and Zoe’s voice finally came back but with less animation. “So, your landlord helped you?”

  “Aaah . . . yeah. He came down and unstuck the coin slide. Simple fix, but I still felt bad for bothering him.”

  “I’m sure he was probably very grumpy about it– made you feel like it was all your fault.”

  Frowning, Sarah replied, “No . . . he was helpful”

  “No one likes being bothered on a Sunday, especially landlords. Did he try to push it off until tomorrow?”

  Sarah felt almost defensive of Mason, and didn’t want to admit to her new friend Mason’s momentary lapse of politeness. “He was fine, really. Came right down and got it working.”

  “Well, I am sure he was cursing you under his breath . . . the Patriots are on and you have him fixing the dryer!”

  “Oh, shoot! I forgot about that.” Sarah feeling badly and a little more alert, rolled on her stomach and looked out the window. Maybe that’s why he was a little grumpy? She decided she wanted to get off the phone.

  “Come to think of it, Zoe, I should probably head back down to get the clothes.”

  “Okay, just wanted to check in . . .”

  “Thanks. We should do that again, it was fun to see a little more of the city.”

  “Oh, we will . . . promise. I’ll call you.”

  Sarah hung up and dragged herself from the bed to gather the last load of clothes from the basement. After folding the clothes and eating a simple omelet dinner while watching 60 Minutes, Sarah decided to head to bed early. Sleep came easily, and it was several hours later when the moon was high in the sky that she awoke to the cries of a cat on her bedroom's fire escape.

  Chapter 7

  The cat came every night that week, crying outside her side window until she would get out of bed and go to the fire escape. Each time, the cat would run off as Sarah came too close to the window. She started leaving it some food and toyed with the idea of having a pet, naming the cat Midnight because of the shiny black coat and timing of visits.

  By Friday, the lack of sleep was catching up to her. She sat in Henry’s office, trying to look alert, while struggling to follow the conversation. Admiring Henry’s bow tie and the unique shade of burnt orange that picked up the threads in his brown sweater vest, she almost missed the words she had been waiting to hear this past month: “Sarah, I have a project for you I think you will like.”

  As if lifted from a dream, Sarah sat forward in her chair and smiled broadly, eagerly waiting to hear more.

  “It’s a period piece about Boston. The author has some interesting and unique perspectives from several family members journal from the late 1800’s and turn of the century, but there is an awful lot to validate and he’s not the strongest writer. But, I believe there is an interesting story in there. Somewhere.” Henry tapped the thick folder in front of him for emphasis. “There are some pictures too, some of the great Boston fire of 1872 that I don’t think have been published before, but not all are marked so we will need to try to find locations.”

  Henry sat back and studied Sarah for a moment; a faint smile played on his thin lips. “Stan has been very complimentary on
your organizational skills and attention to detail and, Izzy . . .” Henry chuckled, “Well, if you can make heads or tails out of Izzy’s notes I think you will be great at this project.” He smiled kindly at Sarah.

  “Thank you, Henry! I am so excited to get started. This is just what I’ve been waiting for!”

  With Lisa coming up to visit for the weekend and the new project assigned, Sarah felt a sense of exhilaration that lifted her tiredness. When the phone rang late that afternoon, she jumped; looking at the time thinking it might be Lisa arriving early.

  “Hello, Sarah. It’s Zoe.”

  “Oh! Hi Zoe, what’s up?”

  Sarah leaned back in her seat as she listened to Zoe and looked at her computer screen. “I wanted to see if you had any plans this weekend? You haven’t been to my neighborhood yet so I thought I could introduce you to the North End. We could get a great dinner and nice bottle of Chianti!”

  “Oh…that sounds great, but my friend Lisa is driving up from Connecticut right now to spend the weekend. We wanted to catch up. Can I take a rain check?”

  The line became quiet and Sarah thought for a moment the call had dropped. Zoe cleared her voice and continued – some of the velvety quality replaced with an edge. “Lisa? You hadn’t mentioned a friend coming for a visit.”

  “Lisa’s my oldest friend, we were neighbors growing up, but she was more like the sister I never had. She wants to see my new place and we’re going to check out the city a bit.”

  “Well, come to the North End and meet me for dinner with Lisa. She shouldn’t miss this area of the city while she’s here. It’s the Italian section of the city, a tourist attraction in itself, although it’s a lot quieter now than during the summer months.”

  Sarah didn’t answer quickly enough and Zoe jumped back in. “Meet me at my store Saturday afternoon after you get done sightseeing and we will go from there. Settled?”