Baltimore, Maryland

Four years later.

Gabriel turned the key to his new apartment, left and then right and then left again, trying to figure out which direction meant locked and which meant open. He thought he’d felt the bolt slide back, but the door wasn’t budging. Turning the knob as hard as he could, he experimentally pushed a shoulder against the cheerful yellow door, and it gave way with a pop, almost sending him sprawling in the foyer. 

He caught himself with a forward step.

“Whoops! There we go.” 

Gabriel didn’t take it personally—the door was old and entitled to be a little sticky. The apartment was part of a charming, hundred-and-fifty-year-old converted Victorian in Fells Point, a neighborhood that Gabriel probably couldn’t have afforded to live in without the subsidized rent that was a perk of his new job with the Anastasia Anderson Legal Fund.

Fells Point was fantastic—filled with lots of restaurants, shops, and parks. His new building was close enough to the office that he’d even be able to bike to work when the weather was good. When it wasn’t, the metro station was a five-minute walk from his front door and the bus stop was just across the street. Perfect for a crunchy, car-phobic hipster like him, and so much better than the neighborhood he’d lived in before he left for Berkeley.

Gabriel had only seen pictures of the apartment online, so he eagerly gave himself a quick tour. The place was amazing. It was even better in person—vastly better than any of his previous living arrangements, especially the overcrowded shoebox he’d shared with three other law students in Berkeley prior to his move. Two bedrooms, just for him, spacious living room, hardwood floors, high ceilings, a bath with a big clawfoot tub, a washer and dryer, a modernized kitchen with upscale appliances, plenty of windows, and lots of light. The literal dream.

He checked the kitchen faucet and whistled long and low, impressed with his near-supernatural luck. The cherry on top of this real estate sundae was that the power and water had actually been turned on in advance without a major struggle with either company. Miraculous.

“Gabriel Cooper?” called a voice from the hallway. Gabriel walked back out into the foyer and saw that the moving company had arrived precisely at the scheduled time. Weren’t moving companies supposed to be hard to deal with and notoriously late? All previous moves in his life had involved an aching lower back and either a U-haul or an overstuffed car, so he had no basis for comparison. 

“That’s me!” Gabriel cheerfully announced, stepping into the doorway and giving a little wave.

A burly guy in white coveralls with “AAA Moving Service” embroidered on the chest offered him a quick handshake.

“Okay, sir, I’m Jeremy, I’m with AAA Moving Service. Are you ready for us to start bringing everything up?”

Jeremy was sporting a magnificently retro handlebar mustache, a resplendent shaved head, and a gap-toothed smile that made Gabriel inclined to like him. He automatically scented the air in the room for more information. Granted, his ability to scent people still wasn’t the most reliable, but to him, Jeremy smelled pleasantly of detergent, Doublemint gum, and nothing else. Probably a Beta, then. 

Excellent. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to have a bias, but Gabriel couldn’t help feeling more comfortable around Betas and Omegas, especially when the person in question was standing inside his home with no one else around.

Reassured, Gabriel was not only ready, he was eager to get started with the move. “Sure, let me just put my bag down and I’ll come help.”

“Oh, no, sir, that won’t be necessary,” Jeremy protested. The mover checked the clipboard. “Looks like this contract covers the white-glove moving service, so we’ll be bringing everything up and then my crew’s going to unpack it for you. You just have to tell us where you want everything.”

Gabriel was taken aback. So he was just supposed to sit and watch? Weird. “Oh! Okay. I don’t mind helping, though.”

Jeremy shook his head. “No sir, absolutely not. This is all arranged. You just relax and let us handle it.”

"Oooookay, Jeremy. You're the boss." Gabriel tried to look like he was used to white-glove anything.

Deprived of things to do for the moment, Gabriel walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge to see what kind of space he had to work with. He was shocked to see that it was already loaded. Eggs, butter, milk, oat milk, some wedges of nice cheese, a bag of apples, a series of containers from a local deli… The works. 

He walked over to the tall pantry cupboard and peeked inside. Brand new packages of pasta, crackers, a loaf of crusty bread, flour, sugar, and assorted other pantry staples. On the top shelf, he spotted two bottles of expensive-looking wine, one red and one white. 

What in the bibbity-bobbity-boo…

Half-afraid he’d let himself into someone else’s apartment, Gabriel explored a little more. In the bathroom, he turned up a set of fresh towels, some artisanal goat’s milk soap and hand lotion, and full-sized bottles of salon-brand shampoo and conditioner. Over the futuristic computerized front-loading washer and dryer, he found containers of some heavenly-smelling eco-friendly detergent and fabric softener. 

It is really not going to help my street cred if my Berkeley friends find out that my bleeding-edgy ‘forefront of the Omegan Rights movement’ ‘deep-in-enemy-territory’ nonprofit job is pampering me like I’m Elle Woods.

He had the good grace to feel slightly embarrassed about landing in the lap of such luxury. He was very afraid he could get used to it without much effort.

Digging his phone out of his back pocket, he looked through his contacts for Jem Dearing, one of the paralegals he’d be working with at the foundation.

Jem picked up on the second ring. “Hey Gabriel! Are you here? How was your flight? Do you miss California yet?”

“I am here. The flights were fine, thanks. I just got to the apartment half an hour ago, and the movers are already downstairs. I’m floored! The place is fabulous– makes it very hard to miss Berkeley fog and biking up hill both ways. And someone loaded my fridge and cabinets up with all kinds of goodies. Was it you? Who do I have to thank for this?”  

Jem quickly demurred. “Oh, that wasn’t me. That would probably be Victoria Anderson. She’s the chair of the board for the Foundation. You’ll meet her at the board meeting on Thursday night. You’ll love her– she’s sharp as a tack, and she can organize like a four-star general.”

“The chairperson of the board loaded my fridge?”

“I actually don’t find that all that surprising. She’s a force of nature. Plus, I know she’s thrilled to have you on board. She’s been intent on getting the legal fund up and rolling for a few years, and you were her dream candidate for director, so I’m not surprised she pulled out all the stops to win you over.”

Gabriel wandered through the kitchen and pulled open a random drawer. Corkscrew. He checked another cabinet. A set of wine glasses. This woman was magnificent. “Could you get me her number so I can call and thank her?”

“Sure, no problem. I’m sending you the contact right now. Listen, I know you already know the city, but would you like to have a little 'Welcome Back' semi-working dinner with me tomorrow night? I can get you up to speed on everything before your first day.”  

“That would be perfect.” 

They chatted briefly and then Gabriel ended the call as the first round of furniture arrived in the apartment.

For the next couple of hours, Gabriel directed the moving crew as they unpacked and arranged his belongings. They even hung the pictures and assembled his new bookshelf for him. In no time, the six-person crew had him completely settled in, a feat that would have taken him weeks if he’d chipped away at it after work and on the weekends. 

When it was time for the movers to leave, Gabriel emptied his wallet and tried to hand Jeremy a tip. He was immediately shut down with a wide smile that lifted Jeremy’s furry handle bars. “Oh, no, sir. That’s been taken care of, too. You enjoy your night. And welcome to Baltimore!” 

Dazed by the speed of his move-in, Gabriel wondered what to do with himself.

First, he needed to call Mrs. Anderson. Feeling a little nervous about calling a four-star general fairy godmother chairperson of the board with the power to make or break his new career, he stared at the phone for a while, gathering his courage.

He coached himself. 

Gabriel, why did we take this job?  

     Because we want to make a difference.

That’s right, Gabriel. And why have we chosen to return to Baltimore despite our very bad experiences here?

     Because we don’t back down from a fight. And we don’t live in fear. We go where the battle is hottest.

That’s right. After three years at one of the toughest law schools in the country, law review, a punishing clerkship, and two years of volunteer work with a legal aid office in one of the rougher parts of Oakland, are we going to be scared of the very nice lady who created our job and who tricked out our fantastic subsidized apartment with lovely things including wine?

No, we are not… but we are going to have a glass of that wine before we make this call.

That’s fair, Gabriel.

Fortified by the self-pep-talk and a glass of Beaujolais, Gabriel made the call. He had a brief and very pleasant conversation with a woman who seemed quite happy to hear from him and who deftly deflected all of his attempts to thank her on the grounds that all she had done was “make a couple of phone calls.”

Victoria Anderson expressed an eagerness to meet him in person at Thursday’s meeting and looked forward to introducing him to several people that she was sure would be very helpful to him. She wished Gabriel a wonderful first week and a lovely evening and then, poof, in true fairy godmother fashion, she was gone.

Gabriel sustained a little conversational whiplash, but otherwise felt their talk had gone well. 

See Gabriel? Nailed it. 

He high-fived a row of invisible angels and poured himself a celebratory second glass of wine. He sipped it as he wandered into his new bedroom to figure out what to wear for his first day.