Who is Tony Sanford

All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

I'm not sure where this story came from, but I did enjoy writing it and hope you enjoy it too.

~~~

I had decided to grab my dinner at Olive Garden, as I often seemed to do these days. I had a favorite server who took good care of me, partly because of the twenty-dollar tip I left, but we'd also become friends as well. Not hanging out for the weekend, friends, just someone it was enjoyable to chat with and share an occasional life problem.

I'd recently been promoted to Vice President of Sales of an electronics company owned by an old and dear family friend, a little bit of nepotism perhaps, but I did have an MBA with honors to help qualify me for the job. And the raise in salary I received certainly changed my life. It certainly provided for Claudine's twenty-dollar tips.

"It's Wednesday, Jasmine. The regular?"

I'd just finished making decisions at work, and now another was hovering in front of me.

"That's the soup and salad, right?" I asked, hoping I'd remembered.

"Yup. Zuppa Toscana?"

"Perfect."

As she walked away, my cell phone jingled.

"Hello."

"Hello. Am I speaking with Jasmine Clemens?"

*Yes, you are."

"This is Marvin Branson from the Forest Gardens Apartments. I have good news for you. A tenant moved out unexpectedly, and we now have an apartment available if you're still interested."

"Very interested. Can I stop in tomorrow and finalize things?"

"That would be excellent. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

I tucked my phone away and smiled. It was a beautiful apartment in a great building with lots of amenities. I considered myself fortunate to have gotten it so quickly, and I wouldn't have to search any further.

"That's a big smile," Claudine said, chuckling as she set the salad on the table.

"I just found out that I'm getting the new apartment I wanted. I can't wait to move in."

"Congratulations, Jasmine. The soup will be here in two minutes."

The soup did come and was delicious, as always. To celebrate, I had a second bowl, no extra charge.

~~~

I'd always rented a furnished apartment, not wanting to invest in furniture until I finally found a house. I'd left work early and had packed a small suitcase along with some sheets, pillowcases, and a towel. In the manager's office, I'dI signed all the papers, taken care of the rent and deposits, and was escorted to my apartment, number 305.

Since I'd seen a similar apartment earlier, I didn't need to be shown around. There was a nice bowl of fruit and a bottle of wine to greet me. I wondered how they knew I preferred white. I made up the bed and decided I'd shower just before I turned in. Feeling warm and fuzzy after the shower, I poured myself a glass of wine and grabbed my book. Despite being in the electronics business, I preferred the kind where you turned the paper pages. As I set the wine down, the room phone rang.

"Ms. Clemens. I hate to bother you, but there's a gentleman in the lobby who says he's a friend of thelady in 305. He said he's visited several times."

"Listen, I'm not doing anything important, so why don't I just come down there so he can see that the lady he wants to see isn't here any longer."

"You're welcome to do that, Ms. Clemens."

"I'll be right down." I was in pajamas and a fluffy robe, but it wouldn't bother me if it didn't bother them. We'd see.

I was looking forward to the wine, but I was also interested in finding out about the previous occupant of my apartment. I was told that she had given one day's notice and disappeared without saying anything when she left. She'd tossed the keys to the concierge and was gone. It just seemed strange, and, being the curious person I was, I was interested in what the story might be.

I exited the elevator and saw a tall and slender, bespectacled man standing with the concierge.

"Ah, Ms. Clemens, this is Vernon Smith, the gentleman I mentioned in the phone call.

A smile from Mr. Smith. "Ah, thank you for coming down here, but I need to see Sheila Walters from apartment 305."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, but I'm in 305 now. I was told that Sheila Walters moved out very suddenly with only one day's notice to the management."

Vernon's brow wrinkled. "That's odd. She didn't say anything to me about that."

I was beginning to feel a touch uncomfortable since I had no knowledge of the prior occupant of my apartment, although I certainly felt sympathy for Vernon, who was simply seeking a friend who seemed to have disappeared.

I

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help to you. I didn't know her at all."

"Oh, I know. It's just such a surprise. And," he said, chuckling, "I hope you're enjoying the apartment. It is very nice."

I laughed. "I moved in today, but I am sure I'm going to enjoy living here. It isn't cursed or anything, is it?"

Vernon shared my laughter. "Not that I know of. But, I notice you have a book in your hand."

I'd rushed to get downstairs and neglected to set the book aside. I held it up... and suddenly paused. The words on the cover were readily apparent.Love in Paradise by Vernon Smith

I looked at a broadly smiling Vernon. *This is you?" I asked, a little stunned.

"Yes, it is. It's an experimental book, and I hope you enjoy it."

"I'm just beginning, but in any case, would you sign it for me?"

"Sure," he said, "but I'm surprised you have a hardback. Not many do that these days."

I giggled as he signed. "I actually got the book from the library, but I'll just pay them for it when I go there next."

"If you're going to a library, you must be an avid reader."

"I guess you could say that. I've always read a lot."

"Tell you what. Let me give you my email or phone number so you can give me a review of the book. And call me Vern, please."

He went to the concierge and returned with a pen and pad of paper.

"Here you go," he said, handing me the paper.

I tucked it into the book.

Something he had said finally clicked in my mind. "Did you say this book was experimental?"

"I did. My most successful books have been spy thrillers, and that's actually why I wanted to see Sheila. She just seemed to have lots of ideas for my spy novels. She never said it, but I think she was European."

"This title sounds romantic," I suggested, trying to draw him back to the book I was holding.

"It is. Kind of an adventure with lots of romance."

"I'll let you know what I think as soon as I finish the book."

"Great, I need to be going."

He shook my hand and left.

Vern had been a little stiff the whole time, and I couldn't tell if he was arrogant or just shy. I'd told people what I thought about books after I'd read them, but never the author. That might be a little intimidating. I'd have to see.

As I left the elevator, anxious to sip my wine and read, I saw someone locking the door of the apartment next to mine and heading toward me.

"Hello," I ventured.

He stopped. "Hello. Are you my new neighbor?"

"It looks like it. I'm Jasmine Clemens."

"Tony Sanford and I'm sorry to run, but I have an appointment. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again."

Tony Sanford almost didn't seem to fit, as I thought I detected a faint accent. Maybe not, though. But with his long dark hair and the small scar on his cheek, he looked like a fascinating guy. He was clearly a little older than me, but not that much. I was going to have to get to know Tony a little better.

~~~

I'd fibbed a little to Vern. I'd finished his book, which was, well, okay, and then I'd quickly read one of his spy thrillers. It was excellent, the story racing along with unexpected twists and much detail. I wasn't a fan of spy fiction, but I might have to look up another one of his creations. I decided to text him.

I've finished your book.

Thirty seconds later, my phone rang. Guessing who might be calling was simple.

"Hello, Vern."

"Good guess," he said, laughing. "I can't wait to hear what you think. Are you doing anything this evening?"

I had no plans but thought I might have soon. "No plans."

"I'll pick you up in ten minutes if that's okay."

I signed and hoped he couldn't hear it. "Sure, I'll be ready."

I was still wearing my work clothes, slacks, and a blouse and had no idea what Vern might have in mind. I plopped into a chair and waited. In a few minutes, the phone rang, and I was summoned to the lobby.

"It's good to see you again, Jasmine. And I'm sure you've been told before that your red "hair is spectacular," he said as he gazed across the room.

I had, but it was always nice to hear it again.

"I was thinking of going to Starbucks... ". He paused. "Have you had dinner?"

"No, but that's okay. I'll get it later."

"Don't be silly. I owe you for reading the book. Italian, Chinese, Steak, or whatever you'd like."

"Really, Vern, you don't owe me anything, particularly dinner." I was willing to discuss the book, although I was uncertain what his reaction would be, but I didn't need dinner.

He took hold of my arm. "Come on, my favorite critic. I've got this."

He ushered me past the smiling concierge and outside to where he'd parked his car, a rather modest Toyota. He settled me into the passenger side, then climbed in behind the wheel. He didn't look at me when he spoke next.

"Did you pick one yet?"

"Pick one?"

"What you'd like to eat."

"Oh. Vern, I don't know. What do you like?" Somehow, I felt awkward making the decision. And Vern's very shy demeanor wasn't helping. He'd taken my arm and escorted me outside, but now he wasn't looking at me as he spoke. He'd complimented my hair but hadn't looked at me when he did that, either.

"You're the one who is doing me a favor, so it's your choice."

I wasn't anxious to spend the evening parrying with Vern.

"How about Italian, then?"

"Perfect. My favorite," he said as he started the car.

I doubted that, but at least the question was answered.

He tentatively took my arm as we crossed the parking lot. At the door, he released me, and we went inside. We found a table, were served drinks, and ordered. I decided to have a glass of Chianti since Vern would be paying. He decided at the last second to have a glass himself.

We each took a sip of wine, and he looked me straight in the eye.

"So, what did you think?"

I'd thought about what I'd say to him, but I knew that would change once I started talking.

"Well, I read straight through it and didn't see it aside before I finished, which I've done with other books. It was well written, but it dragged a little in spots, and the main characters were a little thin."

He looked away for a moment, then back at me.

"It's pretty much what I expected you to say. Others have said the same thing. I was surprised my publisher wanted to put it out there."

I thought I could go in another direction and be a little more positive.

"I loaded one of your spy novels onto my Kindle and read it." I looked up to see his reaction.

"Which one?"

The Spy Who Found the Sunshine

"On, that one. How'd you like it?"

"It was a whole different world, Vern. Well written, of course, but the storyline was fascinating, and all the details just enhanced the story unbelievably well. I'm not a spy novel fan, but I will probably check out another of your books."

"That sounds familiar, and it's why I'm as successful an author as I am. But now I'm really worried. By the way, there are only two others to read."

That puzzled me, for sure. "I don't understand, Vern."

"The former occupant of your apartment, Sheila Walters, helped me with the spy novels. She had a ton of ideas, people, places, and details. I could barely keep up with her thinking."

"Wow, and now she's just disappeared?"

"She did. I was so surprised when I went to see her to discuss a possible new book, and you were in the apartment."

I felt sorry for him, but what he'd said certainly scratched my curiosity. But unearthing anything regarding the mysterious Sheila might be beyond my capabilities.

"You don't have any hints or ideas about why she might have done that?"

"Nothing. I'm not even sure whether or not to be worried about her. I really don't know much about her at all. She didn't want to talk about herself."

"I'm not sure I can be much help, Vern. I'll check the apartment to see if she left anything behind."

"Thanks, Jèsmine, and thanks again for reading the books."

"No problem. I'm probably going to read the other two as well."

He smiled.

My wine was gone, but the chow mein arrived.

~~~

I'd been in the apartment for two weeks and hadn't seen Tony again. I'd thought about him several times since that first meeting and was curious to learn more about him. I had changed into some shorts and a halter top, ready to relax for the evening. I had a glass of wine and then a second before I ate dinner. Probably a mistake on an empty stomach. I was feeling happy and wondered if Tony was home. Only one way to find out.

I knocked on his door and, after a few seconds, watched it open. Tony peeked through the crack, then opened it all the way.

"Oh, hello again."

A little buzzed and a little silly as well, I said, "Hello, yourself. Have you had dinner yet?"

Puzzled, I could tell, he answered, "No, why?"

"I was just ready to fix mine, and I'd be happy to fix more and share it with you, and we could get to know each other a little better."

"Listen, Jasmine, I couldn't impose on you that way."

I liked that he remembered my name. I was looking for a hopeful sign, and that fulfilled it.

"I knocked on your door, so I don't think you'll be imposing on me. I like to know my neighbors."

"Still, I don't know."

"I'm not the best cook in the world, so maybe we can work together to get something prepared." I was hoping I'd give him no choice but to say yes.

Finally, he chuckled. "I probably shouldn't, but I can't resist redheads." He grabbed his phone and followed me to my apartment.

I looked at him and smiled. "I can be devious sometimes, but I really would like to get to know you better."

"Nothing wrong with that, and I'm always interested in how people end up in these apartments."

"They are beautiful, and I was very fortunate to get this one. I understand the lady who lived here moved out very suddenly."

Tony's face clouded. "Yes, she did," he said flatly.

"Did you know her well?" I was just naturally curious about someone who'd suddenly disappeared.

"No, not at all. She kept very much to herself."

"Unlike me, right?"

Tony forced a laugh. "I have to admit, you're nothing like her, at least not that I can see so far."

Something had changed when I'd mentioned the missing Sheila. A noticeable stiffening of Tony and then an attempt to recover.

"I'm just a curious person, and she seems to be a bit of an enigma." I was anxious to see how Tony would react if I pressed the Sheila issue.

"Enigma might be a good word to describe her."

I wanted to keep Tony talking because I found his touch of an accent fascinating. He was older than I was, but it was difficult to tell how much older. He wasn't classically handsome, but there was something enchanting about him. Maybe it was his craggy face, coupled with the accent, and that little scar that made him so appealing, at least to me. I needed to find out.

"Where are you from, Tony?"

He looked at me strangely. "Baltimore," he said with a shrug.

His accent was Eastern European of some sort, I was sure, so I didn't believe him. We were eye to eye, and I knew he was aware that I didn't believe him. What now?

"My parents were from Ukraine."

"Wow. I don't know much about Ukraine. Maybe I could learn if you have some spare time." I fluttered my eyelids and smiled. I wasn't above flirting to get what I wanted.

"I don't know you at all, Jasmine, but I would guess that you're a very busy person."

That was a backward way of saying no, but I was determined.

"Not that busy."

No response.

"I'll provide a meal each time."

Finally, a chuckle. "I have a weakness for good food. It will be good food, right?"

If I was going to learn about Ukraine, and particularly about Tony, I'd better learn a little more about cooking, as well.

"We've figured out the future, but what about right now?"

I received a warm and friendly smile from Tony. I was making headway.

"If you're going to be providing Ukrainian food later, then I'll take care of tonight."

The wine's effects were wearing off, and I went to the kitchen to help him prepare dinner. It was a start, but I knew there was a lot more to learn about Tony.

~~~

I needed to call Niki.

"Hey, what's up, Jas?"

"Want to go shopping?"

"Silly question. Of course. What are we after?"

"Stuff for the apartment." I hoped Niki caught the excitement in my voice.

"I thought it was furnished."

"It is. Couches, chairs, tables, lamps, and beds. Nothing on the walls and none of the miscellaneous things that would make it mine. Sheila either took it all with her or never had anything."

"Is Sheila the former tenant?"

"I'll meet you at our favorite shopping center, and I'll tell you about it."

"At the food court?" The very pragmatic and practical Niki.

At least there was a Subway there, so I could get a salad. Niki had some kind of a conglomeration from one of the Oriental stands, nothing at all like the chow mein Vern and I had.

We ate without much chatter; I nursed my salad while Niki devoured her... stuff.

"So," she said, wiping her mouth with her napkin, "what goes with this Sheila person?"

"I wish I knew. There's something suspicious when someone leaves like she did. Maybe it was personal, but so many people know so little that it bugs me.

"Jas, maybe you should let that go. Sounds like it may be a dead end. Any other odd neighbors?"

"Funny you should ask. The guy next door has an accent and says he's from Baltimore. He said his parents are from Ukraine, and I'm guessing he's from there too."

Niki took the last bite of her oriental goulash. "With what's going on in the world, I'd think he'd be proud to be Ukrainian. And with that accent and stuff, is he hot?"

"He's not bad. I'm working on finding out more."

"Cool. But I came here to shop. Let's go get you some loot."

~~~

I cooked for Tony, and most of it was not too bad. Niki helped with recipes and with show and tell. Tony complimented me often and ate everything I served, and then would tell me about Ukraine. Of course, there was lots about Ukraine and its war with Russia on TV these days, but that didn't tell about the real Ukraine and its people. He still mentioned Baltimore, but I decided that he was actually from Ukraine. The details he related didn't come from reading a book. Plus, I didn't think you could pick up an accent that would last the rest of your life from listening to your parents.

Sometimes, we'd just talk, and I enjoyed that. It let me see a little of a Tony I was beginning to like. I'd prepared five meals and learned much about Ukraine and individual Ukranians from someone who clearly loved both.

Something about him was getting to me, however, and I was wondering if there was a future for us. Tony hadn't done a thing to hint that he felt the same way, so I guess it was up to me to be the aggressor.