by Anna Albo
I squirmed a bit. I could see now where Genie got it from. “It’s a weekend, that’s all. Emma’s never been.”
“And when you go to Columbia, providing you’re accepted, then what? She tags along? Your mother and I like her. She’s a good influence on you, but are we expected to pay her way? Your mother and I are not a non-profit organization.”
“There’s no way Emma is going to let you guys or anyone else pay her way.”
More intense staring.
“New York isn’t cheap.”
Why was Dad playing games with me? But I had to tread carefully. “It’s going to be the same as it is now. She pays what she can. Emma’s not a moocher.”
“And she plans on having a job? Not expecting you to support her?”
“She’s not like that.”
Dad leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers some more. He leaned over and spoke into the intercom, calling Mom to his office. He was bringing in the big guns now.
“And she’s not going to affect your grades?”
“She hasn’t yet.”
“That’s a good point. She’s a responsible girl, and we like that. She comes from a good family. I wish we knew a bit more about her mother.”
Did I mention that Meredith had spoken to Genie? That they’d briefly met the year before at a fundraiser for a women’s shelter? Nah, not the time.
“I’m sure there’s nothing there, Dad.”
Mom breezed into the room and pulled up one of the leather office chairs next to Dad’s. It was going to be a good cop/bad cop situation, except I didn’t know who’d be what.
“Dan, give me the recap,” Mom said.
Dad brought her up to speed, then Mom’s gaze fell on me. She smiled, but I couldn’t trust the action.
“Sweetie, what are your intentions for this girl? I know this is serious, but how serious is this? You’re both so young, you don’t have to jump into anything. Living together in a different city is a very big deal. Neither of you will know anyone and all you’ll have is each other. Are you ready for this step?”
“Yes.” I didn’t want to say anything else. If I said too much, I may as well have hung myself.
“And then what?” Dad asked.
“We come home for the summer.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed. She knew that’s not what Dad meant and so did I. “Try again,” she said.
“You want to know if I’m going to make an honest woman of her?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Well, frankly, yes. And we want to make sure you don’t rush into anything. Your father and I think this might be moving a tad fast.”
Then it dawned on me. I fought hard not to laugh. “Do you guys think I want to marry her now? That I’m going to propose to her in New York or something?”
“That exactly,” Dad said.
“You guys are nuts! The thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”
“Your father and I got engaged in college. We had a long engagement and it worked out fine . . .” She stopped. “What am I saying? I don’t want to encourage this. Forget what I just said. Look, don’t rush into anything. Dan, I should stop talking, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes, please.”
I got up. “Is that all? Or does Mom want to go ring shopping with me?”
She gave me a friendly scowl. “Very funny, Zachary. Although, when the time comes, I’d be happy to.”
“I’m going to go before Mom starts planning a wedding.”
“Yes, go. I’m not sure what your mother is going to say next.”
I pulled my keys from my pocket and walked to my truck. Mom had me thinking about the future. Did I want to spend the rest of my life with Emma? That one was easy. But making that official? Hell no, we were way too young for that.
Or were we?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma
I’d only been on an airplane once before when I’d gone to a tennis camp. It was nice to be travelling with someone this time, and not a chaperone who wanted to be anywhere except with me. Zach and I had packed light, just two small carry-on bags. We arrived at the airport and Zach grasped onto my hand, leading me expertly through the crowd of travelers to the empty business class wicket.
“I got us upgraded,” he said before I could get any words out.
“When did that happen?” I muttered out of the attendants’ earshot.
“I made a few calls,” he said and winked.
I hated that I was smiling. It gave him more encouragement to take his generosity further. Within minutes, after all the identification checks, we were on our way up to our boarding gate. I glanced down at my clothes. Blue jeans and T-shirt hardly screamed business class. I was feeling uncomfortable already. Would the flight attendants look down on me? Know I didn’t belong?
“What’s wrong?” Zach asked as we strolled to the short line for business class passengers.
“Nothing.”
We cleared security while others waited in the regular line. Were people wondering what I was doing in the privileged line? I shook my head of these thoughts. I couldn’t get all hung up on them.
Zach grabbed a handful of magazines from one of the shops and not too long later an announcement came that it was time to board.
We boarded first and took our seats in the third row. Our seats easily could have fit two people. An attendant handed each of us a newspaper and a bottle of water. I settled in and Zach leafed through his newspaper. Having lived my entire life in Pine Falls, having not seen much of the world, living in Zach’s was kind of nice, but I hadn’t earned it. Come to think of it, neither had he.
I could hear Dad in the back of my head, telling me to enjoy myself, not to sweat all these details. I could also see Grandpa, an evil grin on his face, gleefully rubbing his hands together while planning my marriage.
“Hot towel?”
The flight attendant startled me out of my daydream. “Excuse me?”
“Hot towel? For your hands?”
“Yes,” Zach said, taking one. I followed suit and did the same.
I leaned in close to Zach. “Why am I washing my hands with this burning hot towel?”
“I suppose they assumed you were going to read the newspaper. She’ll be right back to offer us a drink.”
“Before we take off?” I asked wide-eyed.
“You’re adorable,” he said, kissing my cheek.
As he predicted, the attendant returned and asked what we’d like to drink. She then handed me a menu. “You have a choice of your dinner and dessert. And if you require anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Was it that obvious I was a newbie? “Holy crap! Filet mignon, duck à l’orange or lobster ravioli?” Giddiness had set in. “This is insane!”
I ordered the duck and Zach chose the filet. He drank some of his beer while I savored my full can of Coke. A full can! The attendant had also brought us chips, cookies, crackers and assorted nuts. When I couldn’t decide which one I wanted, she let me have one of each.
“I love New York already,” I said, biting into my gourmet chocolate chip cookie.
“If I’d known that all it would take was business class, I would have done it ages ago.”
By the time we landed, I was stuffed with duck, a salad, scalloped potatoes, tiramisu, two cookies and a small bag of nuts. The attendant was kind enough to let me take two cookies for the road. Zach didn’t think I saw it, but he mouthed a thank you to her.
LaGuardia was a zoo. Zach once again led the way through the throngs of people and before I knew it, we were outside in the warm September air and climbing into a cab.
“McGillivray Hotel, and don’t take us on any tours. I know this city like the back of my hand,” Zach said expertly.
The cab driver scowled and we set off.
It was early evening and the sun had just begun to set. We crossed the city as the cab driver maneuvered through traffic. People were everywhere, walking, running—some heading home for the day, others preparing fo
r a Friday night out. The city streets whizzed by and as I took in Manhattan, we passed Central Park as it went on and on for city blocks.
“We’re going there, right?”
Zach peered out my side of the window. “Central Park? Absolutely. It’s walking distance from where we’re staying.”
Minutes later we pulled up in front of our hotel. I fumbled with my purse to grab some cash but Zach had our fare paid before I even got out my wallet. We climbed out and stared up at the glass-encased hotel that never seemed to end. It was like it touched the sky.
“This is amazing.”
“I got us a room overlooking the park. I thought you’d like that.”
He took my hand and we went inside. While he checked us in I absorbed the lobby. Everything was black, grey, white and ultra-modern. Other guests milled through, dressed in party clothes while some sat on black leather sofas laughing and talking. They all looked so posh.
“Miss Andrews, should we go up to our room?”
“Yes, I can’t wait.”
Our room was on the thirty-fourth floor and, as promised, it overlooked Central Park. I passed the king-sized bed, threw down my bag and stared out the huge window. “I’m in awe.”
“I knew you’d like it.”
I turned around as he collapsed onto our bed. “This hotel isn’t the real New York. You can’t fool me that easily,” I said.
“I can try.”
“As much as I’d like to hang out in this room, I thought we’d hit a restaurant. You’re the one who said we don’t have a lot of time.” I unzipped my bag and pulled out a notebook. “I have a list of a few places I’d like to eat at before we go. The first is Chez Cavallo’s, a restaurant in Soho. Based on my research, it’s not far from here. I don’t know if we’ll get in, but we can try. It’s not ultra-exclusive, but I think there might be a wait.”
Zach picked up the hotel phone and tapped away before bringing it to his ear. “Hello, this is Zach Walker in room 3410. We’d like to have dinner at Chez Cavallo’s. I’m wondering if it’s possible to book us a table and arrange for a cab in an hour.” He paused. “Yes, thank you.” He set down the phone “All set.”
I beamed. “That’s it?”
“All arranged.”
I jumped onto the bed and kissed him. “You’re amazing! I can’t believe you were able to do that.”
“I’m not one to drop my dad’s name, but sometimes it comes in handy, like this trip. I want you to have the best weekend ever so I’m pulling out all the stops.”
“I’m okay with it this weekend, but you have to promise me you won’t do this all the time. For instance, I don’t want you or your dad making any arrangements to get me into a school, or anything else for that matter.”
“I promise.”
I got up. “I’m taking a shower and changing. I can’t go like this to Chez Cavallo’s.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all. Just remember we have a cab to catch in less than an hour.”
CHEZ CAVALLO’S WAS a disappointment. I ordered scallops risotto in a marinara sauce and I expected it to blow me away, but instead it was bland and in dire need of salt. I had so many ideas of how I’d change it. And for the price Zach paid for our dinner—he refused to let me pay—I couldn’t help but wonder if there were a million other places we could have went to instead.
After a brief visit to Times Square, long enough to take a few pictures, we walked back to our hotel. I crashed when my head hit the pillow and at some point in the middle of the night Zach’s hands were exploring my body. I was disoriented at first, wondering where the hell I was, but it all came back. I moaned softly which was all the encouragement he needed. I enjoyed middle-of-the-night, barely awake sex. There was something primal and hot about it.
In the morning I found myself naked and alone. I crawled out of bed, showered and slipped into one of the McGillivray’s plush white robes. I exited the bedroom to see Zach dressed and smiling.
“I ordered some room service.”
“Is that where you were?”
“No, I was arranging a cab to Columbia. After we check it out I thought we’d have a nice lunch, then head back here and check out Central Park?”
“That sounds good.”
I dressed and put on what little makeup I wore. By the time I was ready our room service arrived. Fancy little egg omelets, pancakes, a pound of bacon and a pile of toast. I dove in and when I was finished eating, I could barely move. Would my clothes fit at the end of this trip?
“There are a few colleges and universities near Columbia,” Zach said in our cab. “There is also the International Culinary Center. And once I get my acceptance letter, we can start looking at places to live. I don’t want to jinx anything by looking now.”
“I haven’t decided to move here.”
“I’ll convince you.”
Columbia was massive. A million times larger than Western. Zach had pre-arranged a tour which led me to believe this was not the norm. George, our tour guide, walked us through the main buildings but spent most of the time touring Greene Hall then the Diamond Law Library. It became abundantly clear to me that Zach’s acceptance was a foregone conclusion.
“Do you already know you’ve been accepted?” I asked as we took a walk down the neighboring streets.
“It’s not official.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not official.”
I frowned. “Okay, but it’s mostly official.”
“I think so. Emma, here’s the thing. I could have done my undergraduate at Columbia. I was accepted but chose not to go because Dad thought I should stay in Minnesota. I compromised with him, and now I want to go to Columbia, my law school of choice. That doesn’t mean they are accepting me because of my dad. I’m going to get in based on merit.”
I didn’t doubt that. It did mean that I had to seriously consider if this was where I wanted to be for the better part of three years.
We passed a deli with a small line up forming outside. It was afternoon and the crowd looked anxious. I craned my neck to read the sign. Sam and Jim’s. I stopped walking and peered in one of the windows. The little place was packed with people devouring various sandwiches and pastries. I turned to Zach. “I want to eat here.”
He shrugged. “Sure. It doesn’t look special, though.”
“Look at the line. The food must be good.”
The line went relatively fast and when we got inside and neared the counter, I had my order all picked out. A pastrami sandwich and a side of potato salad and coleslaw. I also picked out a couple of desserts that Zach and I would share. A lemon square and a piece of cherry pie. Zach picked a turkey club and was going to share my sides. We waited for our food to come and when our sandwiches were ready my eyes grew wide. They were huge. At least two times the size of the biggest sandwich back home.
Zach whistled. “Hope you’re hungry.”
We took a dumpy table in the corner with chipped Formica and uneven chairs. I wrestled the sandwich into my hands and attempted to bite into it. There was no ladylike way to do it. The sandwich was amazing. The ingredients were fresh, most was made on site, the meat cured in-house—at least, that’s what the menu said. Even the sauces were all made from scratch. Bread baked every morning, sides prepared throughout the day. And the desserts? A pastry chef on staff churning them out.
I pulled out my phone and googled the place. One rave review after another. A hidden gem. A hole in the wall with mouthwatering food. The reviews went on and on.
“Man, we could use a place like this back home,” Zach said, finishing off his sandwich and attacking the sides I’d ordered.
“I know,” I said. I looked at him and he looked back at me. Were we thinking the same thing? “I can do this. I want to do this.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Maybe not exactly like this. Smaller scale, but everything would be homemade. There could be signature sandwiches and salads
and then a special sandwich of the week. Same with the salad and desserts. While I’m here, I could finish off my degree, get a job at a place like this, maybe take some business courses on the side then ask Dad to help me with the start-up. I’m looking three or four years down the line, but I could do this.”
“I’m sure my parents would help out too.”
I cast him a disapproving look. “If I want help from them, I’ll ask.”
“I could be your partner. A silent one because you’ve seen me cook.”
“Very silent,” I joked. “Look at this place. It’s packed. If you provide great food, people will come. They won’t care about ugly artwork, crappy chairs, or chipping tables, not that I’d do all that.”
“You’re onto something, Miss Andrews.”
“I want us to squeeze in as many places like this as we can before we go.”
“You know how much I love to eat.”
I beamed. I’d finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life. The plan was set in motion.
CHAPTER NINE
Emma
Not only was Helen my favorite tennis partner, she’d also become a good friend. I didn’t care that she was old enough to be my mom—and maybe that’s why I liked her so much—but she listened to my problems now that I felt close enough to tell her them all. We’d been tennis partners about a year and raked in some decent prize money along the way. She’d entered us into every tennis tournament she could think of and to date, we’d won a couple of thousand dollars in prize money which she always insisted I keep. The arrangement made me uncomfortable, but I’d given up fighting with her long ago.
“How was the Big Apple?” she asked.
“I loved it. There’s always so much to do. And the food is fantastic.”
“Must be nice to eat whatever you want,” Helen lamented. “I’ve never been to New York. I better add it to be my bucket list.”
“You won’t be disappointed.”
“Did Marc try to get a hold of you?” she asked after we’d put in an hour-long practice. We were preparing for our last tournament of the year and like always, Helen was determined to win.