September 10 2004, 1100AM, the apartment of Richie Ryan
Richie awoke at eleven, and cursed under his breath. He had told Mac last night that he would be in at ten to help set up for the band to perform tonight. It was a blues and jazz band too.
Grumbling, he stumbled from his bed, and into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Looping the towel around his neck, and drying as he walked, he noticed the couch was empty and the blanket was neatly folded at the end. A plate of eggs, toast and bacon was on the table, as was a glass of daisies and a note. He wondered where she found daisies. A quick peak into the kitchen confirmed that the dirty dishes had been washed, the trash had been emptied, and the counters and the tiled-floor sparkled. With an air of amusement, he noted his apartment (save for his bedroom) sparkled. He took the note in his hands and read:
"Richie Ryan, Consider the breakfast, food shopping (he grinned, realising she had found the daisies at the store), and cleaning service my thanks for last night and my less-than-welcome sarcasm yesterday. I know I was a bitch, and I am sorry. Nick Wolfe ranf at nine. I told him you were still asleep, and that I was your cousin visiting from afar. He said to ring him at work at your convinience, that he would be in most of the day. I leave Paris tonight, but I will stop in at the bar to say good-bye. Asher Jacobs."
He smiled, and replaced the note on the table, and took a bite of the still warm eggs. Scrambled to perfection with just the right hint of salt and pepper. The bacon too was perfect" crisp and warm and slightly peppery. He thought it heaven when the phone rang.
Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, he answered. It was Mac, screaming that he was late.
Richie awoke at eleven, and cursed under his breath. He had told Mac last night that he would be in at ten to help set up for the band to perform tonight. It was a blues and jazz band too.
Grumbling, he stumbled from his bed, and into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Looping the towel around his neck, and drying as he walked, he noticed the couch was empty and the blanket was neatly folded at the end. A plate of eggs, toast and bacon was on the table, as was a glass of daisies and a note. He wondered where she found daisies. A quick peak into the kitchen confirmed that the dirty dishes had been washed, the trash had been emptied, and the counters and the tiled-floor sparkled. With an air of amusement, he noted his apartment (save for his bedroom) sparkled. He took the note in his hands and read:
"Richie Ryan, Consider the breakfast, food shopping (he grinned, realising she had found the daisies at the store), and cleaning service my thanks for last night and my less-than-welcome sarcasm yesterday. I know I was a bitch, and I am sorry. Nick Wolfe ranf at nine. I told him you were still asleep, and that I was your cousin visiting from afar. He said to ring him at work at your convinience, that he would be in most of the day. I leave Paris tonight, but I will stop in at the bar to say good-bye. Asher Jacobs."
He smiled, and replaced the note on the table, and took a bite of the still warm eggs. Scrambled to perfection with just the right hint of salt and pepper. The bacon too was perfect" crisp and warm and slightly peppery. He thought it heaven when the phone rang.
Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, he answered. It was Mac, screaming that he was late.