Stroke of Love

Chapter 2: It Couldn't Get Any Worse

Karen had been rushing for an appointment with her prospective landlady when the Ram had taken her by surprise. The lease on her current home was coming to an end so for weeks she had been searching for new accommodation. Her close friend Harold had suggested going for an interview with his great aunt but for the longest time, the idea hadn't been very appealing.

His Aunt Madeline was very prim and proper and didn't seem the type to approve too much noise, males or pets.

"Maybe that would be for the best," Harry had teased her. "You'd be forced to hang out with me all the time. She definitely approves of me."

As the time had gone by, Karen had begun to realise she practically had no choice but to set an appointment with Madeline Cabot. Foolishly she had waited for the last moment and Mrs. Cabot made it clear that she already had a few suitable candidates.

"But," Mrs. Cabot had conceded in their last conversation, "it would be nice to have a decent Southern girl in that apartment."

Now the chance was blown. Harold phoned her first thing in the morning to tell her so.

At first her memory was a bit foggy and she didn't feel the least bit perturbed when she heard the phone ring but her first efforts to lift the phone off the cradle reminded her she wouldn't be able to use her right hand for quite a while. It nearly brought tears to her eyes but the phone was still ringing so she lifted it gingerly with her left hand which was still a little tender.

"Hello?"

"Karen, you've disappointed Mrs. Cabot."

"Harry-"

"She called me ten minutes ago and said, 'Really Harold, your friend didn't even call to cancel!'" Harold was laughing. "So I guess you've decided to live with me, then?"

"No," she sighed, "I haven't."

She filled him in on the last hours of her evening the previous day.

"My gosh, are you alright? Karen, why didn't you phone me?"

"My hands were tied," she said wryly.

Harold laughed again.

Happy Harry.

"I'm sorry about your hand," he said next. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Stay with Cheryl again, maybe."

"Ok, I suppose that's no surprise. Keep me posted so I can help you with the moving. But for now get some rest."

"I will."

They spoke for a while longer and then Harold thought of something.

"Say, how are you going to bath?"

She hadn't even thought of that, but she wasn't going to admit that to Harry. "My left hand isn't broken Harold."

"Uh oh, she's calling me Harold."

She smiled despite herself. "You're a rat with a gentleman's name."

He laughed yet again and rang off soon after that.

Karen stayed in bed another hour, weighing her options. Swinging her legs over the edge, she realised that the drugs she'd taken around midnight were still working. She rested against her large pillows for a little longer before pushing herself to action.

Now to bath.

Jay hadn't expected her to start crying when he'd asked her where she lived. Looking back at the previous night, the last thing he had thought she would do is cry.

He'd watched her for a moment, taken aback and quite disconcerted by this wave of emotion. He had then waited a moment before speaking. "Don't you have a home?" he ventured gently.

She had looked up through her tears which coated her remarkable eyelashes and ran down her cheeks freely.

"I- I do, but only for tomorrow!"

"How does that work?" he asked, getting more confused by the minute.

"My lease is up and tonight I had an interview with a new landlady."

Jay's brow had crinkled in reflection of her obvious distress. "Oh no," he eventually said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Find me a house?" she retorted tearfully.

He offered a handkerchief which, after accepting clumsily in her left hand, she used on her dainty nose most efficiently. Pushing her almost bronze hair out of her face, Karen had looked up at Jay with hazel eyes he found most alluring.

"Thank you, sir."

"My name is Jay Madison," he had finally been able to introduce himself. "Please call me Jay."

At that, she had stared at him for a moment. Jay had suspected she had either heard his name before or was thinking she wished never to hear that name again. Unfortunately he couldn't tell, so he kept his mouth shut.

Finally, his pretty victim had said, "Thank you Jay. Has the doctor told you when I can go?"

Her eyes had still looked watery but she had fought to control her tears.

"Er-no," he had said.

"Could you help me by pressing that little button, please?" her voice wavered as she asked. "I might as well try to get out of here."

As he obliged her, he thought she had the most enchanting lilt in her voice.

A different nurse had walked in and answered Karen's questions. When asked, Jay had stepped out of the little cubicle so the nurse could help Karen on with her clothes.

Jay had thanked Nurse Pilot on their way out and once in the car, asked for directions.

After yet another pause, she had told him.

They'd driven in silence the whole way. No music, no conversation attempted.

"There it is," she'd pointed awkwardly.

By that time, the rain had stopped and Karen took her time opening the front door to the house she'd been staying in.

Her two puppies- well trained by the breeder- had come bounding down the stairs from 'their room'. Karen gave an involuntary cry of dismay.

"Prado! Uffizi! No!"

The two dogs kept coming until Karen had shouted, "Stay! Good dogs."

Then she had knelt before them and let them sniff the cast before indicating that they mustn't play with is by wagging a finger in front of them, saying 'no' loudly.

Jay had found the entire exercise very cute but instead of saying as much, he had simply helped her off with her coat, made tea, fed the dogs and then he had handed her a card with his name and number on it.

"I'm sorry about tonight. If you need help with accommodation after today, let me know. I have a bit of extra space at my house," he had said to her.

Now he laughed to himself. 'A bit' was an understatement. All those empty rooms were going to waste and Karen could make them home for a while if the need arose.

But the way she had looked at him, made him think that she wasn't going to call. Granted, it had been an impromptu invitation but he was not going to withdraw the offer. And if he were to admit to himself, it was rare and more than a little odd for someone to offer their own home to a complete stranger after a few hours together. But his intentions were pure and dismissed any idea that she might've thought he was creepy.

He went back to his office after his regular rounds about the gallery. A young man was there waiting with a portfolio of ink prints, hoping to get one or two on display. This was all routine and he took it in his stride. He just hoped the artwork was worth his time and assessment.