Stephanie Wells relaxed on her favorite bench in Washington Square Park, enjoying the unexpected warm weather that a late Indian Summer had brought to the third week of October. In the eleven months since she had moved to New York City to attend the Manhattan Culinary Institute, the small concrete and green oasis had become one of the twenty-two-year old's favorite places in the city. Situated halfway between her apartment and the school, she often stopped off on her way home to relax and review the day's class notes.
The notes she'd carefully inscribed in the old-style writing tablet rarely needed correction, but the practice gave the five-foot two brunette an excuse to enjoy both the weather and her surroundings. Greenwich Village was a far cry from the small Connecticut town she'd grown up in, and she still marveled how much her life had changed in only a year. Changes that had been both the result of hard work and an unexpected stroke of fortune. The first had led to her acceptance into the graduate course at the celebrated school, and the latter gave her an amazing place to live just a short walk away from it.
Actually, while luck had indeed been involved, much of the credit for her apartment had to go to her grandmother, Shirley. When Stephanie's letter of acceptance had come last Fall, one of the first questions her parents raised was, where was she going to live in New York? The information packet that had accompanied the letter made it clear that, if needed, student housing was available, but having gone that route already during her undergraduate years, Stephanie was less than eager to repeat the experience.
When she went online to explore her options, however, it became apparent that Manhattan and affordable rent seemed to be mutually exclusive terms -- at least in her price range. After a bit more research, though, she found that non-resident students who wanted to avoid the shoebox sized studios that passed as academic housing, did so by seeking rooms in the outer boroughs. Saving money, but at the cost of twice daily commute and more often than not, having roommates as well, a prospect that also made the idea also less than appealing.
That was when her grandmother had intervened, contacting an old college roommate, Margaret Johnson, who had moved down to New York after graduation to attend medical school. Recently retired from her practice, the never married Dr. Johnson now spent more time traveling than she did in residence in her Lower West Side apartment.
Timing as they say is everything, and when Shirley called, Margaret had just been putting the finishing touches on what was going to be her most ambitious foray yet -- a nine-month excursion, starting in England and then working itself across the continent, visiting friends and family along the way. In almost no time at all, they'd worked it out that Stephanie could stay in Margaret's guestroom for the length of her schooling, in exchange for her tending to the day to day minutiae that tended to pile up during the globetrotter's absences.
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The distant chime of a clock tower brought Stephanie back to the present, reminding her that she still needed to stop at the market before heading home. She slid her notebook back into her carry bag, then rose to her feet, taking a moment to adjust her off the shoulder, olive hued blouse and straighten out the denim skirt below it. Comfortable and functional, it was one of her favorite outfits, more so because since she had such a small frame, only weighing ninety pounds. She was able to buy it in the girls' department for considerably less than what they charged for the same outfit in an adult size.
It was already ten past six when, with carry bag over one shoulder and a grocery bag in her hand, Stephanie stepped through the double doors into Ashmore Court's large lobby. From the beginning, she had liked the fact that most people knew the building by its name rather than its address; it gave the old pre-war structure a character you really didn't find in more modern edifices.
