Chapter Text
When Abbie first saw the moving truck parked in the loading zone of the Mt. Pleasant Apartments, she quietly hoped it was for one of the older tenants. Better yet, Mrs. Van Brunt herself. Hey, co-op lofts in New York were hard to come by and let’s be honest, no tears would be shed over the battle-axe, with the exception maybe of her man-child of a son, Abraham, and even those would be suspect.
She then caught sight of the funky logo on the side of the truck: two triangles—one pointed downward, the other upward, connected at the sides haphazardly. “Sterling: International Removers,” she reads. Hmm.
"Fresh meat,” Tori sang as Abbie came through the lobby doors. Abbie chuckled softly, shaking her head at the teen as she went to grab her mail.
“Now how do you know that’s a man moving in?”
Tori settled up against the mailboxes. “I heard Ms. Van Brunt in the hall earlier talking about him,” she said with a smile. “She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”
“No surprise there,” Abbie muttered under her breath.
2 YRS AGO—
Cilla Van Brunt watched Abbie steely as Abbie looked around the unit. Recently renovated, the one-bedroom, 1.5 bath loft had all the latest amenities. The kitchen was outfitted with stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, a microwave built right into the island, & two modern mini pendant lights hung from the ceiling. She loved the hardwood floors, the vaulted ceilings, the walk-in closet with hinged doors!
Moving to one of four large living room windows, she was pleased to find a decent view of the street and building entrance. Though she’d be on the 10th floor, she wouldn’t have to lug groceries all the way up thanks to an elevator.
She looked hard for cons — gaps in the baseboards, signs of a rushed paint job, doublespeak in the rental agreement — but came up empty. Pleasantville was a great neighborhood: close-knit, away from the noise of the City, but still close enough to hop the Harlem Line when she needed a change of pace. Best of all, the building had its own parking garage. A garage!
“You’ll have to pay for the space, of course,” added Cilla. “Not many of our tenants drive.”
“That’s okay,” Abbie beamed. “It’ll be great not having to beat the street cleaners out to my truck in the morning.”
“Let’s speak plainly, shall we?” Cilla interjected. “Notwithstanding your... history, the board thinks highly of you. They believe having some sort of police presence on-site will be beneficial to attracting and maintaining the right kind of element. And in kind, you’ll find in your lease that we’ve reduced a portion of your rent and monthly dues.”
Abbie’s face is unreadable — a true task in and of itself because she’d really like to deck this woman — but she won’t give Cilla the satisfaction. Abbie family’s history (and her own) were no secret: her mother’s and subsequently her sister’s mental illness, Abbie’s fast track to self-destruction, the rotating door of foster homes & juvie before Corbin intervened.
With a lot of tough love, Abbie got her life in order, surprised everyone by setting off for the police academy, then went to work on repairing the broken relationship with her sister, Jenny — getting her released from Tarrytown Psych, vouching for her to Captain Irving to set her up with a job.
In the time that would follow here at the Mt. Pleasant Apartments, Abbie was the ideal tenant in that she always paid on time, followed the code of conduct, attended the monthly HOA meetings. Her apartment served her well as a place to lay her head, take a hot shower, store her things, but it wasn’t home. It never would be.
The sound of Tori’s voice pulled Abbie back to the present. “What?”
“I said who would travel all this way for Sleepy Hollow?” Tori grumbled.
Abbie herself dreamed of the day she could get out of here, leave this place behind for good. She crossed her fingers that the application she put into Quantico two weeks ago would be well-received.
Abbie glanced down at Tori and smiled. The teen was dressed in her red, white and blue cheer uniform, her hair styled into a sleek ponytail affixed with a bright red bow, a heart painted onto her right cheek.
“Don’t you have a competition to get to?”
“Yeah, but I wanna see him first.”
“Tori?” called her mother, Linda. “We need to get on the road now if we want to make it upstate in time.”
“Ugh, it’s not fair!” Tori pouted.
“Hey, hey, none of that. Your momma doesn’t sit in traffic for her health; she does it for you. Go on and I’ll give you the full rundown on him when you get back,” Abbie assured her.
“Okay. Deal,” Tori smiled before running off to catch up to her mother.
“Good luck!” Abbie called after her.
****
She had intended to make her way upstairs to her apartment and settle in (she didn’t need to see the guy right this minute), but curiosity got the better of her and she walked back over to the entry doors.
Abbie watched through the glass as two men worked quickly to haul the load off the truck, followed closely by a tall, wiry man who appeared to be working their last nerve.
“Do be careful,” she can hear him say, the worry present in his English accent. Yep, that’s the new guy, she muses.
“Just a moment,” he said, running into the truck. When he’s back in view, she can see he’s cradling an antique lamp covered in bubble wrap. He gives a quick nod of thanks to the movers as they resume working.
He doesn’t know what draws him to look in her direction at that moment, but he does. Their eyes meet, just briefly, but it’s enough.