Theresa Rebeck - Twelve Rooms with a View

“She’s pretty, huh,” I said, testing out my theory.

“Oh my God,” he agreed, as if I had just spoken straight to his interior monologue. “I can’t even, when I look at her, I can’t…” He glanced out the door, taking pleasure in just seeing the place he had last been allowed to look at her.

“Does she know you like her?” I asked him.

“What?” That was a bad question; it shook him out of his fantasy and he remembered how much of a right he had to be mad at me. “Did you get things straightened out with Doug? he asked, suddenly kind of stern. “He was quite certain that you are not supposed to be living up there in 8A. I didn’t know what to say. This has put me in a very awkward position. I put a call into building management and I don’t know what they’re going to do. There’s already been so much controversy around that apartment, I’m sure they’re going to want to talk to both of you about whatever this situation is,” he told me. He was trying his best to sound really mean, but the guy didn’t have it in him. He was reading me the riot act, and he just sounded like he was apologizing.

“I’ll try to keep this out of your hair from now on,” I said.

“I would appreciate that,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry, he actually sounded like he would really just appreciate that. Which is about when Lucy showed up, wearing a great gray suit and heels, carrying a big briefcase and looking like the queen of the universe.

“Lucy! Hey, this is my sister Lucy,” I told Frank. “She’ll have this solved in five minutes, I guarantee. You don’t have to talk to building management.”

“I’m sure they know all about this already,” Lucy announced, a little clippy. “Tina tells me there’s some confusion about the locks?”

“Confusion, I should say so,” Frank said. “Doug Drinan—he’s Bill’s son?

“I know who he is.” Lucy nodded, trying not to make that little sign with her hand that means can we hurry this up please.

“Well, he’s up there, having the locks changed. He says he doesn’t know anything about you all having a claim on the place. I didn’t know what to tell him. Tina tells me she’s staying there. I got no reason to doubt her but Doug was Bill’s son—”

“And we are his wife’s daughters.” Lucy smiled, completely professional. “No worries. We’ll clear this up in no time.” She took a couple of smooth steps over to the elevator bank and pressed the call button; as far as Lucy was concerned, this was as good as done. Frank smiled at me, relieved. When she isn’t just annoying as hell, Lucy does in fact have that effect on people. You know who’s in charge.

Doug Drinan and his pal the locksmith were sadly not quite as easy to snow. We more or less fell out of the elevator up there on that eighth floor landing—that is, I fell out, with all my packages, while Lucy popped out like a genie and presented them both with a huge stack of documents.

“Mr Drinan? Hi, how are you? I’m Lucy Finn, Olivia’s daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you after all this time,” she announced, talking quickly. “As you are aware, our mother just passed only a few days ago and so obviously we are reeling, completely caught off guard, so I’m sure this is our fault. But I think there’s been some confusion about the status of the estate. We spoke with Stuart Long just yesterday, he was in possession of your father’s will; have you seen it? I brought an extra copy in case you hadn’t.” She handed it to him and kept talking. “Anyway there is some real question about who the beneficiaries of the estate are, at this time. Your father seems to have expressed in no uncertain terms that our mother was to inherit everything, that largely meaning the apartment, it’s unclear what else is included, but in any event I’m going to have to ask you to hold off on changing the locks for now. Until we get this sorted out.” She smiled at him, very pleasant, but there was a definite don’t-fuck-with-me edge behind it all. She works in PR. It’s very daunting.

Doug Drinan unfortunately didn’t get on board with anything she was saying. He barely glanced at the papers she had handed him and just sort of tossed them to one side, on top of the old radiator that was hissing in the hallway. “I’m aware we’re going to be in a holding pattern for a little while, with regard to the dispensation of the will,” he told her. “Which is why I thought it important to secure the apartment. Obviously we can’t have just anyone wandering in and out, disturbing the effects, before we’ve even begun to probate this situation. I hate to say it, such a sad time—I mean really, condolences on your loss—but anyway it sounds to me like this is going to get pretty complicated. This is just precautionary. Don’t want things to get ugly down the line or anything.”

Okay, the speech was good, but in general he really was not as good as Lucy. He pressed those thin lips together, like he was trying to smile and explain things like a nice guy, but it came off like he couldn’t be bothered to really pretend all that hard, so it all sounded like what it was, condescending and mean and like he was even kind of enjoying messing with us. Which maybe he was, I’m not sure. The more I saw of this guy the less I liked him. His hair really was kind of dirty, and he had too much disappointment in him. Sometimes those are the worst people to deal with because they aren’t even thinking anymore, they’re just hoping that they can make you as miserable as they are.

Lucy didn’t care. Honestly, she has ice water in her veins so ultimately this guy and all his unhappiness were just no match. “I completely agree,” she said. “That’s why we felt it was best to have Tina camp out here for the time being, just so there was someone on site, making sure nothing untoward happened to the property while we sorted this all out. For instance, I think you and your brother stopped by in the middle of the night, last night, and removed some items?”

Doug Drinan stared at her, aghast at her nerve. She just looked at him. “My mother’s wedding ring,” he said, finally, like the righteousness of the situation would mean something to her.

Lucy shrugged. “We have no way of ascertaining that.”

“Except that she saw it.” Drinan turned his cold stare on me, like I was the one who was fucking with him.

“I never said it wasn’t. I didn’t—ah—” I started.

Lucy raised her hand, fearless, and cut me off. “Tina, your actions are completely blameless in this matter,” she informed everyone.

“How do you figure that one?” asked Drinan. “We got there, she’d already completely cased the joint.”

“I was looking for my mom’s perfume,” I explained again.

“You went through my father’s underwear drawer,” he sneered. “You managed to find his wallet, which was conveniently empty by the time we got there.

“I didn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter what you were doing, Tina. The point is, you did not remove anything from the premises, nor are you—or I, or Alison—doing anything at all except insisting that we hold to the status quo until our lawyers, and your lawyers, have a chance to work through the documents and finalize the legal status of the estate. That’s all we’re trying to do. Protect everyone’s rights.”

“Look, I don’t know what any of this is about?” said the locksmith. “But somebody’s got to make a decision about what we’re doing with these locks. There’s a kill fee. You call to have your locks changed and then you change your mind, that’s a fifteen-dollar charge.”

“Not a problem,” Lucy said, reaching into her purse.

“I don’t agree to that,” Drinan snapped. He put his hand out, stopping the locksmith from even thinking about heading for the elevator bank. “I want the locks changed and I have every right to change the locks.”