"It's you, being so mysterious. I'm arranging some manuscripts for someone."
Frank had come to buy food. He asked the waiter to pack some bread and walked over to Jenny's table.
"Mind if I take a look?"
"Go ahead. Better yet, give me some revision suggestions."
Jenny handed him the copied manuscripts. Frank looked at the messy table, the large pile of old manuscripts, and felt this was no small task.
"Who wrote this? Why are you helping him so much, even after work?"
Jenny turned and told Frank the whole story about Sean and Tori.
Seeing her so frank, Frank also became concerned.
"It's impressive that you managed to fool Clare. But if Sean's story has potential, it's too bad to just buy it out."
Frank changed the subject.
"I didn't expect you to be so warmhearted. You really don't look it."
Jenny choked.
"Even though I look like trouble, I'm a normal person.
Out of humanity, he deserves sympathy. Professionally, his story is valuable. Besides, he took care of his sister for so long and wrote all this, showing he's a loyal person. Helping him might benefit me if he succeeds."
Frank rubbed his chin, looking at the fairy tales. They were indeed interesting.
"I thought you were helping purely out of pity, expecting nothing in return."
Jenny pouted.
"Can't I both be a good person and seek profit?"
Frank understood. He sat down across from her with his coffee and said, "You can't keep working here every day. Why not come to my apartment? There's a typewriter you can use."
Jenny put down her pen and rested her chin on her hand, intrigued by his suggestion.
"Frank, look outside. It's almost evening. Are you inviting your female subordinate to your apartment?"
Frank nearly choked on his coffee. He wiped his lips with a napkin, trying to maintain composure.
"...You don't have to come if you don't want to."
Seeing the usually composed Frank flustered, Jenny couldn't help but laugh.
"I'll come. I won't stand on ceremony."
A while later, Jenny followed Frank into the French apartment at 15 Juno Street. He lived in the suite on the right on the second floor, a spacious one-bedroom.
Frank carried her heavy leather bag. He opened the door and invited her in, telling her to make herself at home.
Jenny looked around. This room was one of the suites in the building, sublet by the owner.
The living room was bright, with a toilet and bathroom, a separate bedroom, and a storage room, but no kitchen. It was very clean, suitable for a single person like Frank.
She asked enviously about the price. When she learned the weekly rent was fifteen dollars, she immediately dispelled many grandiose thoughts. She couldn't afford such an expensive place yet.
But Jenny didn't ask further and continued inside.
He used the living room as a study. The long table in the middle was piled with documents, and stacks of books were behind the sofa. Two typewriters sat on the table, along with many organized files, showing he indeed didn't slack off at work.
Frank hung up his coat, took Jenny's coat and gloves, and placed them by the entrance. He went into the room and lit all the wall lamps and candlesticks, making the room bright as day.
"Occasionally Luther comes here to work overtime. That typewriter is his. You can use it freely. I still have things to do, so I won't entertain you."
Jenny nodded, took her bag, and headed for the typewriter, continuing her copy work.
A skilled operator on a typewriter was indeed much faster than handwriting.
While she was engrossed, Frank sat opposite, started writing a reply for Mr. Alpha, and then opened a magazine to study.
The lights in the room stayed on, the night outside grew deeper, and the sound of the two typewriters continued intermittently, never fully stopping.
Until nearly ten o'clock, Jenny had completed about a third of the copying. She yawned, packed up, and prepared to leave.
Frank escorted her to the entrance downstairs and handed her the gloves she nearly forgot. Jenny took them, their fingertips briefly touching.
She thanked Frank solemnly.
"If you ever need me to run errands in the office, just ask. I'll follow your lead as repayment."
"You're welcome," Frank replied.
Jenny nodded and left, walking away along the streetlights. She didn't look back, turning onto another wide, bustling street.
Only after her figure completely disappeared did Frank retreat from the doorway back into the apartment. He looked down, rubbed his fingertips, and felt something still lingering there.
...
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Author's Note:
Chapter 19 will be VIP, with ten thousand words.