Of the two penthouses at The Prospect, only one was currently occupied, that is to say, being lived in. Both afforded three-sided views, though one faced mainly east and the other mainly west. There was a common foyer at the elevator with a front door into each unit. Each unit also had a back door near the stairway at the opposite end of the hallway separating the units. The west facing unit was in the process of extensive re-decoration by its new owners, who had never moved in. The work was being done under the direction of a Chicago interior design firm, Vanity Fairbourn Inc., and had been underway for some months. The elevator had been getting a lot more use of late, as had the foyer.
As he unlocked his front door, Bert Steinhardt heard voices through the open doorway of the west unit. Stepping across the landing, and over the clutter of pails at the doorway, he put his head in and called out, “Hello?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there.” came a rather shrill reply, and the person he assumed was in charge appeared round a corner. Yes, he had seen this woman before.
“Hello, I’m Bert Steinhardt. I live across the hall. Just curious about how things are coming along in here, when the new neighbors might arrive…”
“Hello. Vanity Fairbourn.” Her hand and her business card were offered simultaneously. “It’s coming along…a lot left to do. You won’t be seeing your neighbors soon.” She stopped, abruptly, and stared at him. As there was no indication of a work-in-progress tour apparently on offer, he thanked her and retreated.
“Give us a call if you’re thinking of improvements yourself.” she called out after him, an afterthought. He pretended not to notice. With a personality like that in the house for months, he’d rather do the renovations himself, he reckoned, closing his door firmly behind him. Vanity indeed.
Bert lived mostly on his own in the penthouse. He had married into money, his wife a local girl from a family with long roots in the Milwaukee area. They inherited a spread, Asphodel Meadows, out in Washington County, rolling hills, horses, and all. They had a daughter, but when Gertie was just a toddler his wife had died in a farm accident. There was a great deal of money bequeathed to him, plus a trust for the child. The family encouraged him to continue their tradition of philanthropic work, which he came to enjoy. He had never re-married, although women had been throwing themselves at him ever since. He stayed, quite content with his semi-rural life, at Asphodel Meadows, that is until Gertie left for college.
He started to get a bit lonely. He put in a putting green. That was lonely too. He called Gertie.
“Thinking of getting a condo, Gertie” he mentioned, “but I can’t decide if I want one in town or at a club. What do you think?”
“Why, Dad,” she put the question, “what’s going on with you?”
“Think I need some company once in awhile—get out a bit more. I mean, sometimes the dogs and horses just aren’t enough. Don’t laugh. It was different when you were here all the time. Not that I want you to come home, of course not. Maybe I just need to get out and live someplace else some of the time.”
“From what you say about your putting green, sounds like you don’t enjoy golfing very much. So why buy a golf club condo?”
“Guess it would be different. You’d be in a club, playing with other people.”
“You may be a philanthropist Daddy, but I don’t think that you like people very much.” she teased. “If you join a club, there will be people in the pool, on the course, at the courts, in the club. There will be tournaments, and socials, and dinners and parties all the time. Are you sure you want to get into all that? Not to mention a lot of dreadful women after your money, as usual.”
“But I could buy one of those private villas, and get away from all of that.”
“Then what are you doing it for? Think it through, that’s what you are doing at Asphodel now.”
“Well what about downtown then; how about a penthouse, one with a nice view? That’s private but there’s no club, just an association to join. I could do whatever I wanted downtown, whenever I wanted and with whomever I wanted. And then come home when I got tired of it.”
“I’d come and stay with you downtown, whenever I got the chance of it. Sounds like more fun, Daddy. Only promise me you won’t get more dogs! We have enough already.”
“Never too many dogs, Gertie. But I think I can safely say I won’t have a horse there.”
Now it seemed he might not a have a penthouse view much longer either. He had attended the association meeting where the proposed building next door had been under discussion and, in spite of himself, he had volunteered to serve on the special committee formed to monitor the situation. He looked out his windows and tried to imagine the proposed construction. All he could see in his mind’s eye was something huge and irregular, big and black. And close. Too close. Like a sci-fi Vogon spaceship suddenly looming overhead in “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”, blanking out the whole sky. Perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad, more like a little spinning top shaped spaceship. After all, he had yet to see any real plans for the new building. It was mostly dark at night anyway looking over the lake. On a sunny day, the new building might be quite the reverse, with blinding glare from a mountain of glass.
Speaking of glass, he changed his focus slightly to inspect the window before him and observed that all the floor to ceiling windows needed cleaning. Who did that? he wondered. Is it the association or me that pays? He couldn’t recall them ever being done before so he reasoned that it must up to him. Have to check that in the condo docs, he thought. Maybe I can work a deal with the neighbors, if they ever actually move in.
His reverie was interrupted by the phone. He answered automatically, regretting that he hadn’t left it to the answering machine. It might be that Vanity again, prospecting, although he could ask her about the windows, come to think of it.
“Bert Steinhardt.”
“Oh hello Bert, this is Guy Karon. I’m on the committee about the project next door with you, Jack Pardoe and Lori Hazell.”
“Oh right. Any news?”
“No, I’m calling because Jack is suggesting that we meet soon to review. Arbuthnot’s also suggesting that we ask Hans along, as he has his ear to the ground about it, if you have no objection. When is a good time for you?”
“I’m here for a few days. You can come up here, if you like. Would an early morning—say 7:30, 8:00 ish work for the rest of you? Any day. I’ll provide coffee and sweets. As a matter of fact, I’ve just been standing here trying to visualize the whole thing next door. Could use some help there; so far all I’m seeing is a spaceship.”