“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you lift a finger.” Anne shook her head at Penny. “I’m here to help. With how much you’ve helped me out these last few months with the kids, it’s the least I could do.”
Anne began to climb, her shoes making loud, echoing noises. The steps hadn’t been swept in what appeared to be months, and several of the boards were creaky and lopsided. The whole apartment had a slightly unsanitary feel, and Anne couldn’t help but think it was no place for a young woman to live alone, let alone with a baby. Anne had the guilty thought that she should have paid Penny a higher hourly wage.
After summiting the staircase, Anne deposited the first laundry basket inside Penny’s apartment. When she straightened, she studied the studio space and hoped her face reflected a pleasant expression. In reality, Anne was surprised. She hadn’t expected to find a luxurious condo tucked inside the unsavory building, but she also hadn’t expected…this.
The apartment was the size of a shoebox. And not a nice shoebox belonging to a fine pair of high heels but a teensy little thing from the corner discount rack, dusty and crumpled and missing one flip-flop. The kitchen was cordoned off by a small counter. One person could fit inside it at a time—cooking dinner as a couple would be impossible. The living room blurred into the bedroom without any real separation. If it could be called a bedroom.
Penny’s bed consisted of a mattress and box spring set on the floor. Her dresser was a scratched-up mess that suddenly made Anne’s refurbished, makeshift vanity look as if it’d been salvaged from a royal palace. Her closet door was the accordion type that folded in on both sides, except one side was completely missing, and the other looked permanently jimmied open.
A pleasant breeze sailed in through the window, but upon closer inspection, Anne realized it wasn’t by choice. The window was propped up with a sturdy wooden ruler, and the screen had a huge rip down the center.
“It’s not much,” Penny said sheepishly. “But it’s the best I can do.”
Anne caught herself staring. It had been so long since she’d been a broke student that she’d forgotten what it was like to pull herself up by the bootstraps and make ends meet.
“When I was first pregnant, I was terrified,” Anne reassured Penny. “I was afraid I didn’t have enough—enough finances, enough stability, enough stuff. I told Mark, and he told me the stupidest thing, but I thought it was adorable at the time. And it was actually quite helpful.”
“What’s that?”
“People have been raising babies since the days of cavemen. And all they had was a rock for a bed and a stick,” Anne said with a thin smile. “They’d look at this place and find it luxurious. You’re doing fine, Penny. The baby doesn’t care what your apartment looks like. He just wants to be loved.”
“I have love,” Penny said softly. “I really do. It’s starting to become real.”
“Becoming a mother is an experience you can’t quite put into words,” Anne said. “You’ll find out soon enough. It gets better, I promise.”
Penny wrung her hands together. “I hope so. At the moment, it’s more overwhelming than exciting. I’m realizing how expensive babies can be. I can’t thank you enough for giving us your extra stuff.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” Anne said. “And such perfect timing that it must be fate. The twins are just growing out of their baby things, and I would be donating them anyway. I’d rather know they’re going to a good family.”
“A family,” Penny echoed. “Right.”
Anne felt her lips press together. “Your family will be whole, just the way it is. But out of sheer nosiness, have you heard from the father?”
Penny’s shoulders straightened. “He doesn’t want to be involved with the baby.”
“I’m sorry. He should still—”
“I don’t want anything from him,” Penny said sharply. “It’s much better this way. Trust me. Oh, look at this adorable onesie.”
Anne could read the unspoken words behind Penny’s change of subject. Penny was done discussing the father. Muttering an excuse, Anne dipped out to her car to retrieve another load.
“Here you go.” Anne perched the second laundry basket on the end of Penny’s ramshackle couch. “I do have two car seats in perfectly good condition, too, if you’d like. They’ve never been in an accident. I know most people prefer to buy new, but…”
“I’d love to buy one from you.”
“It’s yours, and I’m not taking any money for it,” Anne said. “Now, before I leave, let me show you how to set up this baby monitor. We’re not using it anymore, so it’s yours. One of those newfangled ones that streams straight to your phone. I’ll show you… I think I still have the app on my phone.”
Penny took a deep breath. “Thank you, Anne.”
Anne ducked her head and began unloading the laundry bins. What she didn’t tell Penny was that the feeling was mutual. Where Penny’s needs in this season of life were physical, financial needs, Anne’s were emotional. She needed a distraction from everything at home, and Penny was just that.
Anne had guided Penny through her journey into motherhood with a gentle hand. She’d helped secure everything from prenatal vitamins to a closet filled with maternity clothes. In a world where Anne had lost control of everything—her home life, her husband, her marriage, her finances—she wanted to excel at something. To be good at one wholesome thing. When Penny looked up at her with appreciation, it fed something in Anne that had been deprived of sustenance.
The two women worked together for several hours, rearranging furniture, setting up sleeping spaces and makeshift changing tables, hanging tiny clothes on tinier hangers in a tiny closet with big, broken doors. By the time they finished, the place had been transformed.
“Come with me,” Anne said. “Is there a grocery store near here?”
“There’s a Trader Joe’s down the street,” Penny said. “But I was planning to order a pizza if that sounds okay.”
“I have a better idea.” Anne slipped on her shoes and pulled open the door. “Let’s go for a walk. It’s nice outside.”
Penny’s lips twitched into a curious smile, but Anne didn’t offer any further explanation. Before Anne knew what was happening, Penny playfully looped her arm through Anne’s and guided her outside. They strolled to the shop on the corner, and when they returned an hour later, their arms were laden with goodies.
“I wish you’d let me pay for this,” Penny said, eyeing the bags as she unlocked her door. “This is ridiculous. It’s too much.”
“This is all part of the Anne Wilkes makeover package,” Anne teased, following Penny into the apartment. “Give me five minutes, and you’ll see why this step is crucial.”
Penny sealed her lips into a thin line, though the discomfort didn’t entirely disappear from her eyes. Anne set to work pulling materials out of the paper bag. She unearthed several small tropical houseplants. A bouquet of fresh flowers. An array of pleasantly scented candles.
She carefully arranged each around the room, nudging them this way, then that way, on the newly dusted furniture. When Anne completed the finishing touches, she and Penny stepped back to survey the transformed studio.