Table Of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Acknowledgments
About the Author
After Thought
Copyright © 2021 by P. A. Crenshaw
All rights reserved.
First Edition: 2021
Published by P. A. Crenshaw Books
www.pacrenshaw.com
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-7367752-0-2
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-7367752-1-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021904202
Cover design and formatting by Streetlight Graphics, LLC
Edited by Suzanne Johnson
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to my family and friends who have encouraged and supported me.
Chapter 1
Who knew a trip to the mailbox could irrevocably change a person’s life? Certainly not the unsuspecting Adam Lancaster, who paused on his way to the mailbox to look out the window at the iconic spire of One World Trade Center in the distance. After living in his high-rise studio apartment for several months, and making the same trip to the bank of mailboxes almost every day, he still marveled at the magnificence of the Manhattan skyline every time he saw it. He couldn’t believe he had finally realized his dream of having his own place in New York.
When Adam reached his mailbox, he mechanically retrieved his mail and sorted the stack as he walked.
Junk mail. Ads. Junk mail. Electric bill for Mr. Adam Lancaster, Apartment 810. Oh the joys of reaching adulthood. Letter from Mom—not so much adult-like. Package for Madeline Smith, Apartment 811.
Adam paused.
He always seemed to get other residents’ junk mail, which he usually threw away. He figured they wouldn’t miss it. However, in this case, he guessed the package was probably not junk. He made an about-face to return the package, but paused again when he realized there was no way to fit it in the tiny mail slot of the correct mailbox. He didn’t want to just leave it sitting in the hall. Someone would surely call the bomb squad about a suspicious package. Instead, he decided to knock on the door of apartment 811 to see if anyone answered. After all, he should make an attempt to meet more of his neighbors.
If he was lucky, Madeline Smith might be really hot. With his luck, she would be a nice, old lady. Either way, it would be good to put a face with the name.
Adam knocked on the door and waited and listened. No response. He knocked again and waited a few moments longer. Still no response. He turned to walk away but stopped when he thought he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.
“Who is it?” he heard a muffled, feminine voice say.
“Um, I didn’t think anyone was home,” he said. “It’s your neighbor.”
He heard the ker-chunk ker-chunk of at least two deadbolts being unlocked. The door opened a crack and caught on a couple of swing-type door guard bars like the ones in hotel rooms.
Paranoid much?
Adam could barely make out two squinting eyes peering at him. The eyes looked a little unfriendly…or suspicious…or annoyed…or maybe all of the above.
“What do you want?”
The abruptness didn’t surprise him. Many New Yorkers were that way—they didn’t trust strangers until they got to know them.
“Um, I’m looking for Madeline Smith,” he said.
She paused for a moment and finally said, “Who are you and how do you know that name?”
“I’m Adam Lancaster. I live next door. A package for Madeline Smith at this address was delivered to my mailbox mistakenly.”
More silence. Then the door closed and Adam heard the creak of metal from the remaining locks being unlocked.
When the door finally opened, there before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid-twenties with sleek, baby-doll blond hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her pale-blue eyes looked like ice crystals fringed with long, thick lashes. A natural beauty, she wore no makeup, except for the subtlest hint of a glossy shine on her full lips. Her white V-neck Beatles t-shirt conformed to her full breasts and accentuated her slim waist. His eyes drifted down to her skinny jeans that displayed her curvy hips in a sexy, yet tasteful way.
Adam caught himself gawking at her and regained his composure.
“M-Madeline?”
Please let her be Madeline. Please let her be Madeline.
She must have noticed his…admiration. With one eyebrow slightly raised and her lips curled into an amused half-smile, her eyes scanned him up and down.
“That would be me. It’s very nice to meet you, Adam.”
She extended her hand, palm down. Adam stared at it for a split second. He didn’t know whether to shake it or kiss it like the queen. It seemed rather odd. He ventured on the cautious side and went with the handshake. Her hand felt warm and soft in his. He didn’t want to release it.
She brought him back to focus when she said, “But please call me Maddie. All my friends call me Maddie.”
“Oh, gotcha…Maddie,” he said. “But Madeline is a beautiful name.”
She smiled a dazzling white smile that revealed perfectly straight teeth.
A movie star smile.
“Thank you. But I think Madeline is a bit old-fashioned. Don’t you?”
“Not at all, but if you prefer Maddie, then Maddie it is.”
She smiled again, nodded slightly, and then looked down at the package in his hands. He followed her gaze.
“Oh, right. I guess I should give you this,” he said as he handed the package over.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Adam didn’t want the conversation to end. He usually had no trouble talking to the
