CHAPTER ONE

Carlos Angelo, a sixty-two-year-old Italian man, worked as an elevator operator at a luxury apartment complex in lower Manhattan. When he moved to America forty years ago, it was his first and only job. Carlos, dressed in a red uniform with gold trim, had spent his day operating the levers and opening the gates of his wood-paneled cab, shuttling tenants up and down twenty stories. It was the last of New York’s few skyscrapers with an elevator operator.

Some people believe that being an elevator operator was straightforward and just hitting the button up and down all day without resulting in innovative work. Sure, it may be a little boring, but Carlos loved his job and wouldn’t exchange it for the world. He was a natural charmer who didn’t strive to be anything other than himself. Carlos was kind and inviting, with a genuine smile on his face, and he was ready to interact with everyone he met. Even if it was only for a minute, he engaged them in pleasant conversation. He received several exceptional customer service awards for his dedication to his career and upbeat personality. There was no one else like him.

They stationed Carlos in elevator three for the morning rush hour. Carlos was ready to start his shift. He had several favorite residents in the building. The fifteenth-floor bell rang. Miss Bower was forty-two years old, single, and lived with two pet cats named Angel and Binx. She worked as an ad executive for an advertising firm, and she was always on the go, with little time for a date or romance. Carlos was most likely the only male in her life. She trusted him enough to give him a key to her apartment so he could monitor her cats while she was away.

“Good morning, Miss Bower,” Carlos said cheerfully as he came to a halt on her floor.

“Ah! Good morning, Carlos,” she said in response. “Isn’t this a gorgeous day?”

“A beautiful day, indeed!”

“Would you mind checking on Angel and Binx, Carlos? They’ve been behaving oddly recently.”

“Sure. I’ll check up on them during my lunch break.”

“I appreciate it, Carlos. I’m not sure what I’ll do without you,” she murmured as she exited.

The 17th floor bell rang. He grinned. It was Edith, a sixty-one-year-old widow. Her husband had died ten years before, and she had never married again. Christopher was her son. He and his wife, Melody, paid her a visit once a month, accompanied by her two spoiled grandkids, who disliked her. The elevator ride was the only thing the children found enjoyable in the building.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Carlos said to Edith. Carlos had feelings for her since the day she moved into the building five years ago. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Edith was refined, while he was only an elevator operator. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it a secret from her.

Edith nodded, recognizing what he had stated. “Yes, it is a beautiful day today.”

On the sixteenth floor, the elevator came to a halt, and a guy entered.

“Mr. Jefferson, good morning,” Carlos remarked. “Are you going to work?”

“Yes, Carlos. One of my employees called. One piece of equipment isn’t working. I’ll have to look into it.”

“Please let me know if you need my help,” Carlos said.

“Thank you, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Mr. Jefferson, a tall, bald guy in his early fifties, owned a pizza parlor a few blocks away. He was married to Mrs. Jessica Jefferson, who was also in her early fifties and helped run her husband’s business. Mrs. Jefferson volunteered at an orphanage on weekends because they had no children. They longed for a child of their own, but God had other plans for them. She even organized a fundraising campaign so that every kid at the orphanage could have their favorite clothes and gifts for the holidays. Mrs. Jefferson regularly involved him in her charitable activities. She considered him a close friend.

Mr. Tripper lived on the twelfth floor. He was a former Army general, divorced, and the father of three children. He used to be full of life, but after a stroke, nothing was the same. His children had only visited him once in three months, leaving him lonely for his grandkids. Mr. Tripper felt unhappy while seated in his wheelchair. He had secluded himself, never left his apartment, and had only ordered from the market, which had provided what he needed. Carlos delivered his morning newspaper at precisely seven o’clock in the morning and picked up his mail in the afternoon. Apart from his children and grandkids, when they remembered to see him, Carlos was the only person allowed in Mr. Tripper’s apartment.

Thanks to his wealthy parents, who had purchased it for him as a birthday present a year earlier, Michael Hamilton, who was just twenty-two years old, already had his own apartment on the tenth floor. Carlos had to turn a blind eye because he had a different date every night. Although Michael was a womanizer, he was friendly towards him and even gave him gifts for no reason.

Blair and Joe Ramsey, together with their two children, Melissa and Cindy, lived on the eighteenth floor. Blair ran a flower shop on Fifth Avenue, while Joe worked as a stockbroker on Wall Street. They constantly invited him to their parties, whether they were with family or business acquaintances.

Then there were Tilly and Dusty Bonaventura, residents on the twentieth floor, a globe-trotting, multi-millionaire power couple who were influential leaders in philanthropy in their own right. They moved into the building a few years ago when Dusty bought the apartment for his wife as a wedding present, but they never stayed more than a week. They had various homes around the country, but their primary residence was a million-dollar estate in East Hampton. It had been Tilly’s family home since she was a young child. Tilly’s par

Carlos Angelo, a sixty-two-year-old Italian man, worked as an elevator operator at a luxury apartment complex in Lower Manhattan. When he moved to America forty years ago, it was his first and only job. Carlos, dressed in a red uniform with gold trim, had spent his day operating the levers and opening the gates of his wood-paneled cab, shuttling tenants up and down twenty stories. It was the last of New York’s few skyscrapers with an elevator operator.

Some people believe being an elevator operator was straightforward, and just hitting the button up and down all day without resulting in innovative work. Sure, it may be a little boring, but Carlos loved his job and wouldn’t exchange it for the world. He was a natural charmer who didn’t strive to be anything other than himself. Carlos was kind and inviting, with a genuine smile on his face, and he was ready to interact with everyone he met. Even if it was only for a minute, he engaged them in pleasant conversation. He received several exceptional customer service awards for his dedication to his career and upbeat personality. There was no one else like him.

They stationed Carlos in elevator three for the morning rush hour. Carlos was ready to start his shift. He had several favorite residents in the building.

The fifteenth-floor bell rang. Miss Bower was forty-two years old, single, and lived with two pet cats named Angel and Binx. She worked as an ad executive for an advertising firm, and she was always on the go, with little time for a date or romance. Carlos was likely the only male in her life. She trusted him enough to give him a key to her apartment, so he could monitor her cats while she was away.

“Good morning, Miss Bower,” Carlos cheerfully said as he came to a halt on her floor.

“Ah! Good morning, Carlos,” she said in response. “Isn’t this a gorgeous day?”

“A beautiful day, indeed!”

“Would you mind checking on Angel and Binx, Carlos? They’ve been behaving oddly recently.”

“Sure, I’ll check up on them during my lunch break.”

“I appreciate it, Carlos. I’m not sure what I’ll do without you,” she murmured as she exited.

The 17th floor bell rang. He grinned. It was Edith, a sixty-one-year-old widow. Her husband had died ten years before, and she had never married again. Christopher was her son. He and his wife, Melody, paid her a visit once a month, accompanied by her two spoiled grandkids, who disliked her. The elevator ride was the only thing the children found enjoyable in the building.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Carlos said to Edith. Carlos had feelings for her since the day she moved into the building five years ago. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Edith was refined, while he was only an elevator operator. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it a secret from her.

Edith nodded, recognizing what he had stated. “Yes, it is a beautiful day today.”

On the sixteenth floor, the elevator came to a halt, and a guy entered.

“Mr. Jefferson, good morning,” Carlos remarked. “Are you going to work?”

“Yes, Carlos. One of my employees called. One piece of equipment isn’t working. I’ll have to look into it.”

“Please let me know if you need my help,” Carlos said.

“Thank you, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Mr. Jefferson, a tall, bald guy in his early fifties, owned a pizza parlor a few blocks away. He was married to Mrs. Jessica Jefferson, who was also in her early fifties and helped run her husband’s business. Mrs. Jefferson volunteered at an orphanage on weekends because they had no children. They longed for a child, but God had other plans for them. She even organized a fundraising campaign so that every kid at the orphanage could have their favorite clothes and gifts for the holidays. Mrs. Jefferson regularly involved him in her charitable activities. She considered him a close friend.

Mr. Tripper lived on the twelfth floor. He was a former Army general, divorced, and the father of three children. He used to be full of life, but after a stroke, nothing was the same. His children had only visited him once in three months, leaving him lonely for his grandkids. Mr. Tripper felt unhappy while seated in his wheelchair. He had secluded himself, never left his apartment, and had only ordered from the market, which had provided what he needed. Carlos delivered his morning newspaper at precisely seven o’clock in the morning and picked up his mail in the afternoon. Apart from his children and grandkids, Carlos was the only person allowed in Mr. Tripper’s apartment.

Thanks to his wealthy parents, who had purchased it as a birthday present a year earlier, Michael Hamilton, who was just twenty-two years old, already had his own apartment on the tenth floor. Carlos had to turn a blind eye, because he had a different date every night. Although Michael was a womanizer, he was friendly towards him and even gave him gifts for no reason.

Blair and Joe Ramsey, together with their two children, Melissa and Cindy, lived on the eighteenth floor. Blair ran a flower shop on Fifth Avenue, while Joe worked as a stockbroker on Wall Street. They constantly invited him to their parties, whether with family or business acquaintances.

Then there were Tilly and Dusty Bonaventura, residents on the twentieth floor, a globe-trotting, multi-millionaire power couple who were influential leaders in philanthropy in their own right. They moved into the building a few years ago when Dusty bought the apartment for his wife as a wedding present, but they never stayed more than a week. They had various homes around the country, but their primary residence was a million-dollar estate in East Hampton. It was Tilly’s family home since she was a young child. Tilly’s parents had been gone for a few years, and Dusty was pleased with her decision to make the house their permanent residence. Carlos’ favorite people in the building were Dusty and Tilly. They were exceedingly generous, especially around the holidays, and treated him as if he were a member of their family.

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