Qualification
By Dimgwrthien
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the CSI:NY series or affiliates.
"We wanted something close by to the building," the woman said. Her arm was linked around the man's, though he seemed to hold hers rather unconsciously, as though unaware she was there. "I think this may be the best place to find one."
The clean-cut salesman nodded curtly. "Yes," he answered. "Perfect area - only about two blocks away, depending on the traffic." He didn't smile, but a bit of humor came through his voice. "There are several tenants around here that may help you finalize your decision if you're still unsure."
Their accents sounded funny, Stella noticed. The man and woman sounded as though they could be from the mid-west, possible, or at least further than Jersey. Stella finally tucked her keys into her bag after watching the group. She walked around the side of the door, smiling. "And here's one of them," she greeted.
The salesman nodded. "Ms. Bonasera lives in the building adjacent to this one. It's still part of the property, but sales are doing so well that why not have a second group of buildings added?"
Smiling, Stella looked over the new movers. The woman was short and petite, blonde, and very pretty. Her green eyes yelled out 'people-person', and she grinned at Stella. The man at her arm, however, seemed less welcoming. He wore a tie and had a clean haircut, short, almost military in its appearance. His eyes, though, seemed to have the same look at the woman's, even if they were closer to blue.
"It's Stella," she greeted. "No one ever calls me Bonasera but the people I work with."
The woman shook her hand. "Claire Taylor and my husband, Mac." Mac shook Stella's hand next, a firm shake.
"They're nice apartments. I rarely get to see mine, but they're nice," Stella offered, glancing sideways at the salesman. He watched her closely.
"They're certainly close to the office," Mac answered, looking around.
"And they're beautiful," Claire added. "The windows and the colors…"
"We could always paint any apartment that color, Claire."
Claire glanced at her husband, her smile becoming a bit forced. "You know I love painting, but canvas and walls are different things." She turned to the salesman. "Do you allow animals?"
"Not the dog," Mac sighed.
"Yes the dog," Claire answered.
"We do," the salesman answered, smiling - leering - at Mac. Mac looked uncomfortable.
"Do you have anything against my dog?" Claire asked.
"Not in front of people."
"My dog?" Claire asked again, raising her eyebrows.
"It's loud, I never get to work around it, it urinates on my pillow at least once a month, and it's dirty," Mac answered in a low voice, avoiding Stella and Claire's eyes.
Stella got the feeling that, though the two loved each other and had plenty in common, they could rarely agree on the little things.
"We'll take it," Claire said. "With the dog, of course."
Mac seemed to grit his teeth. "Shall I go get it from the car?"
Claire's eyes widened. "You left it in the car?"
"Yes."
Claire's eyes widened more.
"I left the windows open," Mac explained, and Claire seemed to calm down. "I wasn't trying to kill it."
"I'll start filling out the papers," Claire told the salesman.
"Then you can start moving in now," he replied, glancing at Mac. Mac turned towards the stairs while Claire followed the man to the front office.
"Need any help?" Stella called down the stairs. Mac paused and glanced up at her.
"The movers should be here after I call for most of it, but a bit of help with the smaller things is appreciated."
Stella ran down the steps until she reached his level. Looking at him from a closer perspective, she guessed that he was in his late thirties or early forties, though it was hard to tell.
"You said this was close enough to your office. Where do you work?" Stella asked, trying to make a conversation as they walked down the flights of stairs.
"I work with the New York Crime Scene Investigation. Came here from Chicago for it."
Stella finally realized where their accents were from. "I've worked with them. Not in close relation, but with drugs, medicines, those types of analysis for them."
Mac opened the door at the bottom and let Stella out first. He opened the car door and took out one of the boxes from the trunk. Stella reached past him to get another. Mac managed to open one of the doors, letting out a small Yorshire terrier on a leash, which he managed to grab before the dog ran.
"I may get to see you often, then," Mac answered, holding the door for her again.
"And your wife?" Stella asked, then silently yelled at herself. Of course - it was still the twentieth century. Most men thought that women shouldn't work. She decided, though, that if Mac gave her that answer, to drop one of the boxes down the stairs.
"With stocks," Mac answered. "It changes buildings half the time, apparently, depending on what type of work she has to do."
Stella tightened her grip on the box, cursing herself again for thinking such rude things. "That's your dog?"
"Not mine," Mac answered. "Claire's. She got him who knows how many years ago. I was hoping that old age would slow him, but it seems to only fill his bladder in half the time."
Stella smiled. "They have sprays to keep pets off of furniture. That might help you a little bit."
Making an interested sound, Mac thanked her for the advice, as well as helping him with the box. Claire was already standing at the door, unlocking it, when the two entered.
"Thank you, Stella," Claire said, opening the door for the two of them. As Mac passed, she kissed his cheek. "And I won't thank you, just because you insulted - Terry!" She grabbed the dog from Mac and hugged it. "He didn't try to kill you, did he? I guess Mac needs some thanking for that." She smiled up at Mac.
"Just let me unpack," Mac sighed. He turned to Stella. "Thanks for the help. I think I can get the rest of the things in easily." He put out his hand.
Stella shook it and said goodbye to him, then to Claire as the blonde woman entered the room. The trip down the stairs didn't take long at all, as usual.
However, Stella did remind herself to put in an application for one of the New York CSI positions. She felt she was easily qualified.
