My Sister's Shoes (Little Black Box, Book 1) (3 page)

Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at its contents. The black velvet liner cradled an old, yellowed piece of paper. Afraid it would crumble, she was as gentle as she could be. She pulled the aging piece of paper out and placed it beside the box. Running her fingers around the inside of the box in case she missed something, disillusionment slowly crept its way into her mind. Unless this paper contained the winning lottery numbers, she was in for a big fat letdown.

Seeing it through, Allie used precision when opening the paper. It was as old as anything she’d ever seen. Written in a calligrapher’s hand was an address: 184 Mulberry Street, Little Italy, New York. Underneath it said “
Prendete il mio Angelo
.” Allie looked at the other side, but it was blank. That’s all there was. She hated herself for looking inside. She should have lived with the dream of not knowing for just a little longer.

Looking to the Internet for assistance, Allie typed the old message into the computer. The message was written in Italian. Once translated, it meant “Take me to my angel.”
Great!
She picked herself up off the floor and put the paper back inside the box. Allie threw the box into her purse and decided to check out the address. After tonight, she’d never think about the little black box again.

Allie rode the six subway car to Times Square, where she waited for the number one train. She wondered what could possibly be so important about an old address. When Mr. Slotsky had given her the box, she remembered his apology and his warning,
“Whatever you find inside, Allie, is to be discovered by you alone. Gregory gave me strict instructions when he first met you and your mother. It was something he felt very strongly about.”
Allie wished her life wasn’t so hard all the time. Getting left out of the will wasn’t as much of an issue as feeling left out of a family.

Times Square was bustling, people were everywhere, and Allie stood in the middle of the chaos feeling more alone than she’d ever felt before. When she boarded her next train, the ride to Little Italy felt like a dream. Allie stood with her hand wrapped around a silver pole and hung on. The car was warm and crowded, but not the usual sardine can. The last of winter had come and gone. Soon the spring rain would soak the city streets and bring forth the flowers that Allie loved so much. She didn’t have a green thumb, but she had a great affection for flowers.

As she followed the crowd up to the street, she pulled her jacket together and held it closed at the neck. Before she knew it, she was on Mulberry Street. No wonder they called it Littler Italy now. The old bakeries and storefronts were sparse compared to years ago. Then, you could find open shops on every street corner. She remembered her mother taking her to Grand Street for pastries when she was small. Allie would stare in the windows at all those delicious-looking cookies and pull her mother by the hand, dragging her into each shop. Allie shook her head.
Things sure have changed.
As she searched for the numbers on the buildings, she decided she was on the right track. She moved quickly until she stood in front of a burned-out storefront next to a brand-new building selling condos.
Now what?

She looked around and decided to look again at the handwritten note. She felt around inside her purse. Without removing anything from inside, she opened the box and fished out the paper. Once she held the old scrap in her hand, she pulled it out. Silently reading it to herself twice, she was still confused.
This is ridiculous!
Finally, in an attempt to ward off her oncoming frustration, Allie murmured “Take me to my angel?”

Suddenly the air swirled and the street lights dimmed. Paper floated up above the ground and spiraled back down with the gush of a strong wind. Allie could swear she felt a slight tremor under her feet, but she remained still. Within a few seconds, all seemed back to normal. But down at the end of the street walking toward her was a woman who resembled a character out of an old folktale. She looked to be at least ninety years old as she slowly strolled, hunched over, with the aid of a walking stick. Allie was immediately drawn in. Maybe she had a message?
Yeah, okay, Allie.

Closer and closer the woman came. When she was ten feet away, Allie smiled. The woman jutted out her bottom jaw and narrowed her eyes at her. The old lady stared at her as she moved past, craning her neck to keep a watchful eye. Allie looked down. Another disappointment found its way past her wall, angering her. What did she expect? At this point anything would be good as long as it was something. Not wanting to give up, she looked around. Maybe Gregory owned one of these buildings?

More irritated than ever, Allie turned around in a huff and bumped into a huge biker dude. He was big, muscular, and scary. His shoulder length hair was dark, falling over his eyes. He wore a small, gold hoop in his earlobe and a diamond stud in his nose. Tattoos adorned both his arms, and his short-sleeve shirt was pulled so tightly over his chest his veins bulged.

“I’m sorry, mister. I didn’t see you.” She moved around him because he didn’t budge.
Another one with the manners of a jackass.

“That’s okay, Allie. Because I saw you.”

She stopped and turned. She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down, and then shook her head as if snapping out of a haze. “How do you know my name?”

“That’s easy, sugar. I’m your fairy godmother.”

As the words sank in, Allie backed up. “Fairy godmother? Don’t fairies look like dancing little sprites wearing tutus?”

“I’m not sure what they’re supposed to look like.”

“O-kay. Buh-bye.”

“It’s true, you know. You possess the message, and you called for me. I am ‘
Il mio Angelo
.’ It’s Italian for ‘my angel.’”

“You look more like a Hell’s Angel to me.”

“I’m a fairy.”

“Fairy? Okay, where’s the camera and what time will I be on? I’ll set my DVR.”

“No camera.”

“Look … Angelo, I need to get going. I have to see a wicked witch in the hospital. Hey, maybe you know her?”

“This is no joke. You hold the ancient message that signifies your worthiness from its prior owner. You will need to pass it on as it has been passed on to you. It cannot be given to a lover or a blood relative. It has to be someone who you think is a decent human being, someone who will pay it forward, so to speak.”

“Uh-huh. What kind of services do you provide?”

“Well, you can’t ask for money or love.”

“Are you saying I get three wishes or something?”

“Listen, I’m gonna give you some really valuable advice right now—” Allie started to laugh uncontrollably. She held her side and chuckled harder than she had in months. “I’m sorry,” she said through her giggles. “It’s just that I’m picturing you wearing a tutu.”

Angelo nodded his head. “Not a good way to start a relationship with your fairy godmother.” Allie cracked up even harder, which had Angelo walking away from her. “Say my name out loud if you want to apologize.” And off he went.

When Allie’s laughter died down, her smile faded.
The lengths people will go to make you the butt of a joke is scandalous.
She looked suspiciously around at the quiet street and then continued on her way to the hospital.

* * * *

Allie changed her clothes in the bathroom as Trudy spoke through the door.

“Oh, Allie, thank God. I asked that nurse to bring me some water an hour ago. Do they think so highly of themselves that they can’t bring me a beverage?”

Allie emerged from the bathroom wearing lilac-colored scrubs. Trudy lay in her hospital bed looking like a queen. A silk robe, with the price tag still attached, covered her hospital gown.

Looking Allie up and down, she rolled her eyes. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you bring germs back to Longwood, huh?”

“I’m not staying, Trudy. This visit will be brief. Very brief.”

“Well then make yourself useful and fetch me some water, will you?”

“Sure. Anything else you need?”
Some caviar perhaps?

“Water, Allie. And fast.” Her response was curt, but Allie was used to it.

“I’ll be right back.”

Allie grabbed the little plastic pitcher and walked down the hall. The gray walls and smells brought back the memories she tried so hard to forget. The bad news was always aplenty when she walked these halls. Stopping to fill the pitcher, she rethought her choice of career specialty and seriously considered making a change.

“Excuse me.” A woman with brittle, blonde hair approached her. She rested a clipboard on her waist. Her plum lipstick was fashionable a decade ago. She looked at her as though Allie should recognize her.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

“I-I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s okay. It happens.”

“It’s just that you look so familiar to me. Do you have a sister that works at Sun Coast Rehabilitation Center?”

Allie shook her head. “No.”

The woman studied her. “Hmm. You know, I’ve worked in this hospital for years and swore I knew every nurse on this floor.”

“Oh. I’m interning at Longwood and stopped on my way to visit a … friend of my dad.”

“I see. I’m sorry to have kept you, but you must have a twin in California someplace. I could have sworn the minute I saw you that you were the nurse who spoke to me.”

“It must be my doppelganger.”
Why not? Fairies exist.
Allie laughed.

The woman’s face paled, and her eyes looked away as if she believed it to be true. She put her hand out. “I’m Sue Manford.”

Allie switched the water pitcher to her left hand and extended her right for a handshake. “Allie Adams. It’s nice to meet you, Sue.”

“I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I was visiting a friend on the west coast last week and … well, long story short, her son is in a bad way. I spent the night in the waiting area with her praying. Anyway, when she went to his room, I was left to wait. A few minutes later a young woman came in. She gave me hope for what looked like a bleak situation and told me everything would work out okay. She told me of a place called Sun Coast Rehabilitation Center, and I should tell my friend to place her son there. I just remember what she looked like, and well—you look just like her.”

Allie smiled. “Well, I can assure you it wasn’t me. I’ve never even been out of New York. And your friend? Is her little boy going to be okay?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. He’s a—”

“I could die of thirst in here,” Trudy announced from the doorway of her room. Sue Manford straightened her posture. “I’m sorry to keep you. You’re visiting Trudy Monroe?”

“Yes.”

She nodded her head and offered a sympathetic expression. “I took her information before. I won’t keep you, dear.”

Sue Manford turned and walked away. Allie called out, “It was nice meeting you.”

She watched her wave her hand in the air without turning around. “Same here, Allie.”

Zach Brady sat at his desk trying to make sense of his disorganized pile of paper. Unable to locate his production cost analysis, his frustration grew. His apartment was untidy and he needed help—and sooner rather than later. No longer willing to wait to hear from Allison, he decided to call his old service. When a man answered instead of the usual woman, he was caught off guard.

“Hi there, this is Zachary Brady. I would like a service call today if at all possible.”

“Why of course, Mr. Brady. I will have someone over shortly.”

“This is Alynn’s Cleaning Service, correct?”

“No. You’ve reached Little Tutu’s Cleaning Sprites.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I could’ve sworn I dialed—”

“No need to apologize. I will be sending Allison over. She works for the Chadwick woman. I think she mentioned you might need someone.”

“Oh, Allison? All right then. Today you say?”

“Yes. She will be over shortly. Oh, and Mr. Brady?”

“Yes?”

“She’s a whiz with plants. I’ve never seen a girl grow things like Allison. If you have a terrace, a garden she can make. Bye now.”

Zach hung up the phone.
Huh?
A garden would fit perfectly into his plan. The terrace did need some sprucing up, and what better place for a garden than that?

* * * *

Allie lay wide-eyed in her bed. She hated Mondays; they were drab and imperfect. Counting down to Friday was always the first thing she did on Monday. Stretching out her arms, she heard her cell phone buzz. It was a text from Longwood asking her to pay a visit to a family member looking for hospice for a relative. She sent a text back agreeing to go since the address was just across town. Dragging herself from the warmth of her bed, she headed to the kitchen.

Wasn’t today the day she planned to start an exercise regimen?
Oh, well.
It would just have to wait. Like so many mornings before, Allie took comfort in the simple act of preparing her tea. The routine was comforting, and she appreciated this time of morning when the birds could be heard chirping along with the sounds of the city. When she sat down to take her first sip of tea, she blew on the hot liquid, and the scent of the delicious vanilla spearmint leaves woke her senses and prepared her for the day. The first swallow was always the best … until Adrienne appeared in the kitchen.

Running in place, Adrienne was sweaty but in a beautiful kind of way. She reached for a coffee pod and brewed herself a cup. Standing at the counter, she did side-bends as she stretched her limbs. Allie eyed her get-up. From her head to her toes, Adrienne’s clothing screamed money. Allie made a face behind her back and Adrienne snorted. “It’s not nice to make faces, Allie.” And she swiftly turned around to face her. “I can feel you snarling.”

Allie shrugged her shoulders. “And it’s not nice to punk people, either. How much did you pay that muscle head to spook me last night?”

“What are you babbling about now?”

Allie got up from the table. “Oh, I think you know, and you’re embarrassed because your little plan backfired. Was Mr. Martin in on the whole little black box thing too?”