The Girl Next Door by Elizabeth Noble Read Free Book Online Page A

on his way out of the door.
    The elevator smelt of dog. He hated that. Early morning dog walkers. He wasn’t an animal person. Leaning against the wooden panelling, he closed his eyes. When the elevator stopped at 3, he thought it had reached the ground floor, and he flung himself at the doors, straight into the girl trying to get in.
    ‘Sorry!’
    ‘That’s okay.’ She looked shocked. He supposed he probably looked pretty shocking. And now that he thought of it, he hadn’t brushed his teeth. Shit. He retreated to the furthest corner of the elevator and looked at his fellow passenger out of the corner of his eye.
    Wow. This girl was beautiful. Really stunning. She was dressed for a run, he guessed, in those black Lycra running shorts that showed everything, and a vest with a racer back. Great body. New York was full of great bodies, though. Best reason for taking a latte to a bench in Central Park – best girl‐watching in the city. Ponytails swinging about, great arses that swayed, never wobbled. This girl had a face on her. A Helen of Troy face. That was much harder to find. Her eyes were so blue they were almost turquoise. She was platinum blonde, and the kind that was real, too. And her skin was clear and pale, just a little pink across the cheeks. And her mouth… Wow. Wow.
    ‘Going for a run?’ Smooth.
    She nodded, managing not to look at him like he was an idiot. ‘You?’
    She wasn’t to know he was heading to Gristedes for Cheerios, so long as she set off in a different direction.
    ‘Think so.’
    He wanted to say something else. Something funny or clever. But they were on the ground floor now, and she flipped a little ‘See ya’ over her shoulder at him, and was outside straight away, bending and stretching, which ought, he reflected, to be illegal. She didn’t linger – hamstring, calves, arms – then she was off, heading west, towards the park.
    Jesus was watching him, an amused expression on his face.
    ‘Who the hell is that?’
    ‘Ms Mikanowski. Three A.’
    ‘First name?’
    ‘Emily.’
    ‘Emily Mikanowski. How long has she been here?’
    ‘Three weeks or so.’ He laughed. ‘You two keep different hours, I think.’
    ‘Does she do that every day?’
    Jesus nodded. ‘Every day. Monday through Friday. Seven thirty. Like a clock. Doesn’t get back until after I’ve gone. Better ask Che what time.’
    Jackson went out on to the sidewalk and watched Ms Mikanowski’s ponytail swinging in the distance.
    He might have to rethink his schedule slightly.

May
    Eve
    Eve had spotted the notice pinned to the cork board next to the mailboxes on the ground floor, between the minutes of the last board meeting, the flyer for a new Thai restaurant that had opened on Lexington, and an ad for dog walking, with one of those cut‐off fringes at the bottom. Eve always spent a little longer than necessary hovering around the mailboxes at this time in the afternoon. People might come and check their boxes, and they might talk to her. God, she was getting pathetic. Yesterday, the mailman had talked to her, but she hadn’t really understood his thick Asian accent, so that didn’t count. The note was written in a neat, old‐fashioned hand, in bright violet ink. The scribe had drawn tiny neat flowers in each of the corners. Doodles, really.
Building Beautifying Committee First meeting Wednesday 10th, 8pm, on the roof All residents interested in creating a wonderful space are welcome
    Raoul was putting supermarket carrier bags on the luggage rack next to the mailboxes. Someone had braved Fairway. Eve was still vaguely frightened of New York supermarkets. She’d tried them all, desperate to find the Waitrose equivalent, but it didn’t exist. Whole Foods was full of ingredients she didn’t recognize, and was a bit granola and wheatgrass for her. Fairway, like Zabar’s, both across town on the West Side, was legendary. You needed a valium with your morning coffee to face either of them. In Zabar’s you