“She’s with me,” a deep voice said from somewhere outside the car.
The bald man looked from me to the vehicle behind me then he nodded once and walked back into his fancy brick headquarters, that I hoped was air-conditioned for his sake, while the gate opened up. I looked into the rearview mirror, confused by the sudden rescue, and the familiar old blue Ford truck was there. Was this guy everywhere?
Not waiting for fear the bald man would realize neither me nor the blue truck belonged here, I pulled forward and turned right following the arrow for the parking deck. I kept glancing back to see where the guy in the truck was going, but he turned the opposite way and I realized he was probably headed to staff parking. Twice in one day he had shown up when I needed some help. It was as if Gran had sent him as my helping hand to get this list done.
Wishing I had been able to thank him and at least get his name, I found a parking spot then grabbed the box Gran had left for whoever was in the penthouse. There was a letter taped to the outside, but I hadn’t opened it and it wasn’t addressed to anyone. Thankfully there were six elevators. One had a gold-plated sign over it that read Penthouse. I took out the black and silver card and swiped it. The doors opened.
Stepping inside the plush expensive interior of the elevator, I began to worry I might be arrested for this. Gran had a key, but she wasn’t here anymore. Just because she was allowed up this fancy entrance did not mean I was. I glanced around, looking for a camera and then preparing myself for the doors to open and security guards to attack me. Mr. Blue truck could not help me out of this one.
My heart was racing and my palms were starting to sweat by the time the door opened and I exhaled in relief at the empty white and gold hallway in front of me. White marble floors with white walls and gold-framed mirrors lined the walls leading to double doors with a large gold lion head knocker on one side. I walked slowly so that if anyone was watching they could see I was of no threat. I considered leaving the box in the hallway, but Gran had asked specifically for me to give it to whoever opened the door.
“I feel you owe me big for this one,” I whispered, just in case she was hanging around to make sure I did all she had asked of me. “I thought the stories from old people were bad,” I added. “This is much worse.”
When I reached the door, I noticed it had a fancy flat silver doorbell. Perhaps the gaudy lion was just for looks. I pressed the doorbell and took a deep steadying breath while I waited. This wasn’t so bad. Whoever opened the door would know Gran. She had a key after all. I had made it this far.
A couple minutes passed and I studied the doorbell, trying to decide if I should press it again or if I should give up and just leave the box. Gran could see, if she was watching, that I had done my best. Besides, if I left with this box, I quite possibly would never get back in this place again.
The door swung open before I had time to think much further on the matter. A woman dressed in a red satin robe, long dark hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, what I would guess were real diamond earrings in her ears, gold bracelets on her wrists, several flashy rings on her fingers and a cigarette between two of her fingers that showcased sharp red fingernails stood in front of me. This was not at all what I expected and I was, once again, at a loss for words.
“Can I help you?” she asked then put the cigarette to her lips.
“I need to give this to you,” I said, holding the box out.
She glanced down at it but didn’t reach for it. “I don’t accept deliveries. The front desk knows that,” she replied and started to close the door. I had to stop her or I was going to be forced to ring the doorbell again.
“No, wait, I am Honey Warren’s granddaughter. She left me a list of things she wanted me to do. This is on the list. She wanted me to bring you this box and,” I paused and reached for the key to the elevator in my pocket, “the key too.”
The lady’s face changed then. Her annoyed expression became one of sorrow. She stared at the box as if it held something more valuable than the jewels she was wearing and I was sure that it did not. My gran did not own anything that valuable. I waited as the woman stood there and took her time looking at the box. Her eyes began to fill with unshed tears then she sniffled and lifted her eyes to meet mine once again.