They obtained the key from the bug-eyed Superintendent, who also handed Fred a sheath of papers with instructions to sign and return them as quickly as possible.
"What..?" began Fred.
"Your lease," said the man, rolling his eyes just a bit. "I’m not supposed to release the key till it’s signed, so get it back to me before you leave, ok?" he said sternly.
"Oh... right," agreed Fred, nodding his understanding. "I’ll be sure to do that," he said as he and Myrtle turned away and the Super rolled his eyes again.
Once inside Fred’s new apartment, Myrtle set Fred to work cleaning windows, starting in the bedroom. Then she whirled into action herself, cleaning the stove, fridge, cupboards, washing the floor, and scouring the bathroom thoroughly. Fortunately nothing was really all that dirty, so her cleaning moved right along.
Fred got through cleaning the bedroom window all right, but had a few moments of shooting abdominal pain in the living room when he stretched a bit too far to reach the top of the large window inside the small balcony. He bent double a couple of times to let the discomfort pass and as he did so it occurred to him again how awfully nice it was of Myrtle to be so helpful, vaguely wondering if he was actually going to survive her assistance. Blinking back the pain, he turned his head while still bent over and gazed out at the little balcony. It looked pretty clean, so he hoped they wouldn’t have to wash it too. Then it occurred to him slowly that it might be fun to get a small barbeque to put out there, along with a couple of lawn chairs... maybe a plant for Myrtle. As he slowly straightened, he conceded to himself that it was a good idea, but resolved to keep quiet about it for the moment. He just didn't want the idea to turn into more shopping right away.
He soon figured out just how far he could safely reach without hurting himself and since Myrtle had brought him the little step ladder, once she was finished the kitchen cupboards, he bravely climbed to the second step of that to avoid stretching too far. And so he was just putting the finishing touches on the living room windows when Myrtle finished her chores and sat down on the living room floor to watch him.
"The windows look great, Fred," she beamed. "When you’re done, I want to measure again for the curtains," she said. "Then I think that will be enough for today, don’t you?"
Fred looked at her in surprise. This house cleaning stuff wasn’t all that bad after all, he thought. He’d thought there would almost certainly be more to do. He stepped back and gazed proudly at the window he’d just polished. "It almost seems a shame to cover them up with curtains when I just got them all to shine," he remarked.
Myrtle chuckled tolerantly. "Well, when we want to admire them, we just need to open the curtains," she explained lightly.
"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly.
"Getting there," she answered, rising slowly from the floor. "Let’s get this measuring done and we can figure out what we want to do for lunch.... and if we want to look for curtains today..."
"I’d like to go out for lunch," said Fred enthusiastically, not really digesting the last of what Myrtle had said. "I’d like to see what’s in my new neighbourhood... you know, stores, eateries... like that," he finished.
"Oh," said Myrtle, warming to the idea. "That sounds like a good idea, Fred. Maybe we’ll find a nice little coffee shop or something where we can lunch, then we can explore," she agreed.
Fred smiled happily, gave one spot on the window one last polish, then climbed down carefully from the step ladder. Myrtle immediately climbed up with the tape measure in her hand. She hooked the end over the curtain rod and pulled, then turned to hand it to Fred. But he had wandered away and was evidently distracted with peering into his wallet, so Myrtle just climbed down and finished the measure herself. Then she wrote the number down on a small pad she’d taken from her purse. She had to call Fred over to get him to hold the tape on one side of the window while she walked to the other. Her measuring done, she smiled and nodded at Fred, who grinned back.
They left the building arm-in-arm and strolled along Benton Avenue. The first block to the east was just more apartment buildings and so was part of the next, but then there were some small shops. Fred took Myrtle’s hand and went inside a small grocery to check out its goods. As he squeezed melons and felt tomatoes, Myrtle checked the "best before" dates on the breads and rolls. Then they both gazed into the freezer section and admired the range of goods for such a small store. They bought a lottery ticket before they left, just to buy something. Fred would have felt a little guilty about squeezing the melons if he hadn’t bought something.
They continued their stroll along Benton and passed a number of other nice-looking shops - Rick’s Flowers and Gifts, Phil’s Computers and Games, a fudge and chocolate shop, a deli, a bakery, a used book store, and a few antique and collectibles shops, and more. Then they came to a little Italian restaurant called Giovanni’s. They instantly turned toward each other and grinned, then went inside.
Myrtle was just about to exclaim about how picturesque the place was, with its little round tables, checkered tablecloths and old world atmosphere, when Fred suddenly fell to his knees.
Myrtle stared, first at the vacant space where Fred should have been standing, then down at the floor where he was. A waiter came toward them quickly. “What happened Fred?” asked Myrtle, gazing down at him.
His face turning the most remarkable shade of red, Fred turned to sit on the floor with one hand on his jaw. “I tripped!” he said, with some exasperation. “I tripped on the chair leg and hit the back of the chair.
“Oh my goodness,” said Myrtle and the waiter, almost in unison.
The waiter reached out a hand to help Fred up. “I hope-a you alrighta, sir,” he said, somehow managing to look concerned and suspicious both at the same time.
“I’m ok,” said Fred. “Thanks. I’ll just have another bruise.”
The waiter pulled out the nearest chair and motioned for Fred to sit. Then he went around the table and motioned for Myrtle to do the same, holding her chair for her as she obliged.
“Are you sure you’re ok, Fred?” she asked, putting her hand warmly on his.
He glanced up, very obviously embarrassed. “I’m ok, Myrtle. I just tripped. I wish I’d stop hurting myself,” he whined.
“For-a you sir,” interjected the waiter in his colourful accent, “a free personal pizza... ona the house, eh?”
“That really isn’t necessary...” protested Fred.
“I insist-a!” said the waiter forcefully. “You justa tell me whata kind you want...”
“There, there, Fred,” said Myrtle, patting his hand sympathetically. “I think that’s very nice of them. You order one for you, and I’ll have a plain cheese personal pizza too.... which we’ll pay for,” she added, looking up at the waiter, who nodded his approval. "And two iced teas," she added.
“Ok,” said Fred. “I’ll just have pepperoni and mushrooms on mine.”
With that, the waiter smiled and strode off to the kitchen.
“Oh Myrtle....” moaned Fred, letting his head fall to the table in his frustration, rather soundly whacking his forehead on the table top into the bargain.
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