Merc Moves In

I’m tired.

Yes, physically tired. But more than physical fatigue, moving out of Bitsy’s shouldn’t be traumatic and, in actuality, it wasn’t particularly stressful. It’s just that, no matter what I am doing, no matter where I’m going, Bitsy is there. She’s always there, she hovers.

But her presence is all good. She wants the best for me and she makes sure I get it, I know I can count on that. Probably remarkable that I could grow up and be self-sufficient. But I can’t complain.

I am now happily moving into my own place and getting settled — other end of town from Bitsy’s house, where I have been living since forever, where I grew up. My new home is in the Carriage Apartments, a relatively new complex not far from the river, easily walkable along the river to the center of town.

It’s very nice and only about a thousand square feet but that’s all I need. Shirley did a good job for me.     

I’m sprawled on the sofa, my feet are up, the TV is on, and I’m tuning in to the news. 16 of the 19 boxes so carefully arranged along the hallway wall by the movers can wait until tomorrow.

There comes a loud knock at the door. It’s Marjorie Hughes, a.k.a. Miss Comportment, full of her usual energy, enthusiasm, and excitement, none of which I can muster at the moment.

“Welcome! Welcome, new neighbor!”, she bursts in and hands me a bottle of local New York cabernet. “I didn’t think you’d have unearthed your corkscrew yet so I brought one. Let’s have a sip or two! I brought glasses, too.”

I managed to answer “OK” and then quickly recovered with “how nice of you“, as I turned off the TV and tried to suppress a yawn. Marjorie asked about our investigation and how my partner in crime, Silas, was doing. She also inquired whether our relationship had gone beyond work — always her nature to mine for information. I couldn’t handle much conversation and she realized it but she poured a second glass anyway. I forced myself to ask her about her experience with the apartment complex, the management, and the neighbors. She said she’d find my parking space for me tomorrow but tonight I was happy to park in a visitor’s spot.

Marjorie stayed for about an hour. I apologized for being tired and not the best of company. I asked her if we could get together another time for more wine and better conversation. She concurred. She was hardly out the door when I hit the sofa again and didn’t move for the entire night.