Modern - Chapter 4

I didn't realize that I had forgotten to get Emmy's number until I was halfway through the report my boss had asked me to get to him before midnight. Thinking back on her disappointed smile, I wondered if she thought I hadn't made plans on purpose. What if she thought I didn't want to see her again?

I smacked my forehead. What an idiot! I'd have to make sure that I talked to her next time we ran into each other.

When my negative inner voice asked what I would do if we didn't run into each other, I decided that if I hadn't seen her by Sunday, I'd go knock on her door. With that settled, I was able to return my focus to my report.

I finished before midnight and went to bed, still thinking about Emmy.

The next morning, as I got up and dressed for work, I wondered what she was doing. She had talked about her job as an executive assistant for a large business. Was she up and getting ready above me? I didn't hear any movement or footsteps, so I assumed she was probably either already at work, not working today, or started later than I did.

The drive in was quick and the day went by even more quickly. I had to get my new office set up and start getting to know the employees. I also had a lot of records to go through, but I needed to do so stealthily.

The local employees were told that I was just here to compare notes and see if there was anything they were doing that we wanted to implement in our New York office.

It made a good cover. I was actually here to figure out why money was going missing. Something was off at our Texas office and I was going to get to the bottom of it.

Once I got everything straightened out, I would get the job I had been working for since I started: head of the internal affairs branch in the New York office. I know, I know, everyone hates IA. But honestly, when it's done right, IA is what keeps a company running smoothly and ensures that employees are not being rewarded for poor behaviour.

By the time I gathered my stuff to head home, I'd met most of the company higher-ups and started putting together a game plan for my investigation.

When I got back to my apartment, I found my thoughts turning to Emmy again. Was she home now? Should I really wait until Sunday to go see her? I fixed myself a quick dinner, then sat on the slightly stiff, blue couch (I had paid to get the apartment furnished for me).

I was about to pick up a book and start reading when I heard soft footsteps overhead. Ah, so she was home. Knowing that she was so close made it hard not to immediately run up and knock on her door.

I was standing to do just that when I heard a loud thud followed by a crash, both from Emmy's apartment. I ran out the door and up the stairs, my only thought that I needed to get to her and make sure she was okay.

When I reached her apartment, I knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I knocked harder and rang the doorbell. Still nothing.

"Emmy, are you okay? Please answer me if you don't need help!" After another absence of response, I called out again. "I'm coming in! Tell me if you want me to stop!"

I tried the doorknob, feeling a spark of frustration when I found it unlocked. It was convenient, but what was a single woman who, I assumed, lived alone, doing with her door unlocked?

Pushing those thoughts aside to consider later, I pushed the door open and strode into the apartment. It felt more lived in than my own sparsely furnished, undecorated place. The furniture, while old enough to show some wear, was nice and coordinated to a color scheme of warm neutral tones and greens.

Emmy wasn't in the living room, so I turned my attention to the dining room and kitchen area through a large archway. I found Emmy laying on the kitchen floor wearing only a thin nightgown, pale and unconscious, surrounded by shards of broken glass. I was grateful that I'd worn my shoes as I crunched across the glass to her prone form and checked her pulse.

It was steady. Her forehead was burning up, though. I decided she was probably sick and was preparing to lift her away from all the broken glass when she stirred.

"Emmy," I called. "Can you hear me?"

Her eyes slowly opened and she blinked a few times. "What happened?" she asked in a faint voice.

"I think you passed out and dropped a glass of some kind."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Oh yeah. I was getting a drink and I started to feel lightheaded. I think I passed out before I could sit down."

She started trying to move, but I held her in place. "There's broken glass all over. Let me carry you somewhere safer," I instructed. She stopped moving as I carefully put my arms under her knees and shoulders and lifted her. I carried her down the hall to the bathroom, where she could divest herself of glass without losing it in the carpet and set her on the edge of the tub.

"I think there's probably some glass stuck in your nightgown. Tell me what you want to change into and I'll fetch it for you," I said.

She blushed. "I can get it. You don't need to-"

"I'll get it," I said, cutting her off. "You shouldn't stand up for a little while. Besides, I don't want you dropping glass shards on your carpet."

She frowned. "Okay. You can just grab another nightgown. They're in the top left drawer of the dresser."

I went into her room. I didn't want to invade her privacy, but I couldn't help noticing that this room was also nicely decorated with a theme, it would seem, of lilacs. The bed wore a lovely quilt of purple and green and white patterns. The rest of the room tied into the quilt.

The top left drawer of the white dresser was indeed full of feminine pajamas. I selected another thin nightgown, appropriate for the muggy Texas heat, and carried it to her.

It wasn't until I handed her the thin, silky blue nightgown that I realized how intimate this felt. I hadn't even considered that when I went for it. I was too focused on just helping her feel better and keeping her from passing out again or spreading the glass around.

Now, handing her a new nightgown, I felt embarrassed and unsure.