Athena Gardens was a bare-bones version of the luxe options he’d already seen around town, housing complexes fronted by country club pavilions and showing glimpses of pools and tennis courts through their iron gates. This one, on the other hand, looked like a redbrick rehabilitation facility, or a small office complex occupied by gently failing businesses. There was a sign out front advertising Athena Gardens’s amenities (pest control and garbage removal included in the monthly rent, cleaning for a nominal fee) and layouts for the one-, two-, and three-bedroom options. Jake had little doubt which type of apartment Rose Parker might have chosen in the fall of 2012 after going out of her way to avoid having an on-campus roommate. She’d have lived alone here at Athena Gardens. She’d have kept to herself as her old life detatched and fell away.
There was a management office just inside the main entrance, and he found a woman behind a desk, working at her computer. She had a stiff pageboy haircut that only served to accentuate her very full face, and a default expression that said:
“Hi. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
She looked to be about Jake’s own age. Possibly older. “Not at all,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Just looking at a few options for my daughter. She’s going to be a sophomore in the fall. Can’t wait to get out of the dorms.”
The woman laughed. “I hear that a lot.” She stood up. “I’m Bailey,” she said, reaching out her hand.
“Hi. Jacob.” They shook. “I said I’d take a look at a few places while she was in class. I’ll need to bring her back if I see anything that gets dad approval. I asked my cousin for some advice. His daughter lived here a few years back.”
“Here at Athena Gardens?”
“Yes. He said it was safe. Safety is what I care about, really.”
“Of course! You’re her dad!” said Bailey, coming around the desk. “We get plenty of dads. They don’t care how many stationary bikes are in the workout room. They want to know their girls are secure.”
“Absolutely right.” Jake nodded. “Don’t want to know what color the carpet is. I want to know, do the doors lock, is there a guard, that kind of thing.”
“Not that we don’t have a very nice workout room. And a very pretty pool.”
Jake, who had seen the pool as he came down the street, begged to differ.
“Also I don’t want anything too close to Washington Street. So many bars.”
“Oh, I know.” The woman rolled her eyes. “A hundred in downtown Athens, did you know that? It’s wild on a Saturday night. Actually, it’s wild most nights. So. Would you like to see a few apartments?”
She had a dire two-bedroom that still bore the stained carpets of its recently departed occupants (very thirsty people, if the bottle collection atop the kitchen cabinets was any indication). She had a one-bedroom that smelled of cinnamon potpourri. She had another one-bedroom that actually had a tenant. Jake was pretty sure Bailey wasn’t supposed to be showing it to anyone.
“You said your daughter wants a one-bedroom?”
“Yes. She’s had an awful roommate this year. From out of state.”
“Ah,” said Bailey. Apparently, no more needed to be said.
“How long has this place been here?” he asked, and she told him nearly twenty years, though he knew this already, from his research. He also knew that Black neighborhoods all over Athens had been bulldozed so that apartment complexes just like this one (most of them much nicer than this one) could be occupied by mainly white students. But he was here for more specific history.
“And what about you? How long have you been working here?”
“Just a couple of years. Before that I was managing one of the other sites. We have four in our company, all in Athens.”
“Nice,” said Jake. “Like I said, my cousin’s daughter lived here. She had a good experience, I think. Her name was Rose Parker. You probably don’t remember her.”
“Rose Parker?” Bailey considered. “No, doesn’t sound familiar. Carole might remember. Carole’s the in-house cleaner. It’s an extra charge,” she clarified.
“Wow. Cleaning for a bunch of college students. That’s got to be a tough job.”
“Carole loves her job,” said Bailey, a bit defensively. “She’s like the den mother.”
“Oh, of course.”
He didn’t know what to say. He let her show him another one-bedroom, and the sad little exercise room, and the pool, where a couple of kids were just getting settled onto cheap loungers. When she invited him to return to the office for a brochure and a copy of the code of conduct he realized he was about to leave Athena Gardens without what he’d come for, which was anything at all. Bailey was trying to set up an appointment for him and his imaginary daughter for tomorrow, but by tomorrow he’d be home in Greenwich Village with not much to show a very worried Anna.
