And I’d forgotten about him having a key.
“What was his message?” Tor enquired.
“He’s at the apartment. He has a key. He says he’s leaving but coming back tonight. Tonight! What do we do?”
“First, we deal with his access. How do we do that?”
“Uh… get my landlord to change the lock. But he’s lazy and returns phone calls about a millennium after you leave a message. He’ll never do it by tonight.”
“Why does he have to do it?”
“Because I don’t know how and he owns the building.”
“We can’t wait a millennium,” Tor pointed out.
“I know, Tor!” I cried.
“Calm down, sweets, how difficult is this lock changing?”
“I don’t know that either, I don’t know how to do it.”
“In this world, there are vendors who sell everything. In fact, outside of houses and places to eat, that’s practically all there is in this world. Is there a place where we can purchase what we require?”
Jeez, it sucked that Tor was the sensible and logical one, even in my world.
“Yes, the hardware store,” I informed him.
“Tell me how to get there, we’ll acquire what we need and I’ll change your lock. He won’t have access, one problem solved.”
Yep, it sucked that Tor was the sensible and logical one, even in my world.
“Turn right at the second light,” I replied.
He turned right at the second light then into the silence he called, “Cora?”
“Yes,” I answered the side window.
I felt his strong fingers give my thigh a firm squeeze and he murmured, “My love, everything will be all right.”
He couldn’t know that either.
But I didn’t tell him that.
I stayed silent and directed him to the hardware store.
* * *
Tor refused to allow me to carry the bags up to the apartment (two flights!), informing me, “Men do manual labor. Women do not unless they’re servants or common.”
I glared at him then let him do it. He wanted to lug a gazillion shopping bags and a million pounds of groceries up two flights of stairs? That was okay by me.
I turned on music and got out the toolbox my father bought me when I moved out of my parents’ house. I’d used the hammer and a couple screwdrivers but other than that, the set of tools in it were nearly new.
After Tor brought up the stuff, I handed him the toolbox, he perused it with some interest and I put all his clothes and the groceries away while he inspected the lock and then, like all things Tor, changed it without any ado.
He was testing it when I wandered to my answering machine because I saw it blinking. The numerical display said I had two messages. I stood by the box, hit the button and Noc’s (in other words, Tor’s) voice filled the room and I watched Tor still as he listened to it.
“Cory? Hope you’re feelin’ better, babe. On my way over. See you in five.”