“Chelsea lived in an old building in the East Thirties. Not a massive, fancy one like Mrs. Amberson’s. A smaller one, with no doorman. The elevator was one of those ridiculously small ones that only held two people. The hall was dark, and there were only three doors. One had been left ajar, and Scarlett pushed it open, feeling it make cushy contact with what must have been a bunch of coats hanging on the wall behind.“Is that Scarlett?” Mrs. Biggs said. “Come in!”Scarlett stepped into a tiny hall...way, which was halved in size by all the coats. The living room was absolutely packed, every inch of space used to death. There was a full-size sofa, bookshelves, a set of drawers, a crowded console with the television and stereo equipment, stacks of DVDs of musicals, and books on acting. The space around it was taken up by an electronic keyboard, an exercise ball, free weights, and piles of music. It seemed like an excessive amount of activity went on in here—a lot of living.Mrs. Biggs was sitting at a tiny table over by the kitchen alcove, doing something on a computer.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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