Always

by Sophie Lark

  “You’re building the computers that will do your job soon,” he told James more than once.

  James had observed that Bennet’s level of technological understanding lay somewhere between a Facebook-savvy grandma and a bright third-grader, so he didn’t bother to argue.

  He spent the whole dinner in a state of incredible restraint, never rising to the bait as Bennet and Stella maligned his education, his career path, his clothing, his lack of travel experience, and his ambitions for the future.

  Anika cringed, remembering every ignorant comment and cruel quip made by her father and sister. She cursed herself for ever subjecting James to those people, and worst of all, for not standing up for him at that dinner. She had sat there in silence, too used to her family’s rudeness to even register the full extent of their awfulness. Of course she hated that they were talking to James that way, but she was accustomed to suffering in silence.

  It was James who showed her how she should have reacted. The only time he got angry that night was when Stella mocked Anika’s poor grades in the semester following their mother’s death.

  “Let me stop you right there,” James said. “Anika is brilliant. I’ve never met someone with a memory like hers, or her vocabulary, or creativity. She makes the average person look like an idiot next to her.”

  He didn’t have to specify that Stella was the average idiot sitting next to Anika—his expression made that plain.

  He didn’t hesitate for a moment to defend her, to express his admiration and love for her.

  Anika had been ashamed of herself then, and she was ten times as ashamed now. Because out of all the people amazed at James’s success, she alone hadn’t been the least bit surprised. She had known his worth completely. But she’d been too much of a coward to declare it.

  Of course, Stella didn’t relate any of this to Gwen, and Anika said nothing at all. Instead, she launched into a deliberately tedious recitation of the items remaining on their to-do list, until Stella interrupted to say, “I just remembered I have dinner plans!” and hurried out of the office.

  “Works every time,” Anika said, winking at Gwen and Hannah.

  Calvin went to the window to watch Stella sashay across the parking lot in her stiletto heels.

  “Gross!” Hannah said, adding to Anika. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Anika assured her.

  “You know she hates you,” Gwen reminded Calvin.

  “I know,” Calvin sighed.

  “And don’t forget you have a girlfriend,” Hannah reminded him, “who’s actually nice, and way prettier than you deserve.”

  “I know,” Calvin said. “It’s a sickness. Blame the girls that bullied me in Kindergarten. I like what I like.”

  Luckily Anika didn’t have to worry about her sister’s interference on the day of the gala itself. Stella was far too busy with her beautifying preparations, which began at six a.m.: hot yoga, a detoxifying steam bath, hydrotherapy, a face and body mud mask, then down to the real work—a subtle spray tan, fresh manicure and pedicure, seaweed belly wrap to remove the last vestiges of bloat, freshening up of her lash extensions, a final fitting of her gown, and then off to hair and makeup.

  Anika’s toilette wasn’t nearly as elaborate, but she did make what was for her an extraordinary effort—she had a glossy dark rinse put in her hair, followed by a blow-out with a few Gatsby-appropriate finger waves.

  Marina, her hairdresser said, “Let me do your makeup too! You can’t just wear mascara; you need something more dramatic to go with that gown.”

  Anika agreed. It had been a long time since she’d so much as looked in the mirror for a full minute. The success of this gala meant everything to her—it was all she had at the moment, and if looking polished and alluring could bring in even a few extra dollars, it would be worth it.

  Having her face cleansed, moisturized, and painted was surprisingly relaxing. When was the last time someone touched her cheek, or even stood this close to her?

  “Unbelievable,” Marina said when she finished. “They won’t even recognize you.”

  She turned Anika to face the large vanity mirror, studded with starlet lights. Anika let out a little gasp.

  The girl looking back at her was the Anika of ten years before: slender, elegant, doe-eyed and full-lipped, creamy skin off-set by thick, dark waves of hair. Without realizing it, the stress of the past few weeks and her renewed interest in running had been working a transformation upon her. She had lost weight, bringing out the high cheekbones and the delicate line of her jaw.

  But it was more than that. There was a flush in her cheeks that had been missing for years, a brilliance in the eyes that had been dead and dull.

  James coming back to her city had tormented her, stirring up emotions that she had struggled for years to repress. She had felt devastation, longing, humiliation, regret. Yet all that was somehow better than the blank nothingness that had enveloped her before. She had been tortured, but at least she was alive again.

  “Don’t cry!” Marina chided her. “You’ll ruin all my hard work.”

  “I’m sorry,” Anika said. “It’s just been so long since I’ve felt like myself.”

  Marina helped Anika to step into her dress, zipping up the back. The material lay sleek and cool against her skin. She slipped her feet into a pair of silver sandals.

  “I hope I remember how to walk in heels,” she said.

  “You’re such an Amazon,” Marina laughed. “I forgot how tall you are when you don’t slouch.”

  It was true, she wasn’t slouching now. The dress was too beautiful, the night was too important. Anika felt full of anticipation.

  “Don’t forget your jewelry,” Marina said.

  She helped clasp the silver necklace behind Anika’s neck, the pendant falling to rest between her breasts. Anika hung the teardrop earrings in her ears. This had been her mother’s favorite jewelry: flawless, deep blue sapphires, teardrop shaped and accented with diamonds, a large stone at each ear and an even larger pendant on a spider’s web silver chain.

  Stella had been given first pick of their mother’s jewelry. She had chosen the most expensive piece, the 8-carat diamond engagement ring. But Anika had seen the envy in her face when Anika had taken the sapphire set as her choice. It was over a hundred years old, passed down from their great-grandmother. Stella grabbed the majority of the remaining pieces in revenge, but Anika didn’t care. This was the set she remembered her mother wearing most often, the stones the exact color of Eleanor’s eyes. Anika’s, too.

  “Do you have a car coming?” Marina asked.

  “No,” Anika said blankly, “I usually just take the subway.”

  “You can’t take the subway in that!” Marina laughed. “I’ll call you an Uber.”

  “Thank you,” Anika said, holding her friend’s hand. “Really, thank you, Marina.”

  “You’re absolutely gorgeous,” Marina said, proud and a little in awe of what she’d accomplished. “Good luck tonight. I have a good feeling for you.”

  10

  When Anika exited the Uber onto the front steps of the synagogue, she felt as if she were stepping into another world. As irritated as she had been with Hannah and Gwen these past few weeks, she forgot it all in her complete awe at what they had managed to accomplish.

  Huge swaths of material hung from the spires of the building, creating a vast and airy tent-like structure that was at once as grandiose as a cathedral and as ethereal as a fairy-tale. Soft glowing lights gleamed along each yard of fabric, and golden stands of orchids delicately perfumed the air. The music—light and tantalizing—beckoned the guests inside the massive gilded double doors.

  Inside, male and female waiters in slim-fitting 1920s-era tuxedos handed around flutes of bubbling champagne. Heavy tables of rich and exotic foods lined the far walls: cascades of deep purples grapes, figs, melons, strawberries, massive towers of oysters, shrimp, and crab legs on ice, pyramids of mahogany-dark truffles, chocolates, perfectl
y iced petite-fours, and platters of pastel macaroons.

  The room was filling rapidly. Everyone seemed to be smiling and interacting, people were even dancing already. It all seemed to be building to the perfect party Anika hoped so desperately to achieve.

  She saw Hannah and Gwen talking to James and headed over to join them. On the way, she was intercepted by Stella.

  “Have you seen him yet?” she asked, gripping Anika’s arm.

  “No,” Anika said, knowing immediately who Stella was looking for.

  Stella paused for a moment, staring at Anika’s face, and then looking up and down her body.

  “Who got you ready?” she demanded. “What have you been doing? You look…different.”

  “It was all Marina,” Anika said.

  “Hmm,” Stella said.

  It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but if Stella couldn’t find something to criticize, Anika knew she must really have outdone herself.

  Still scanning the room, Stella followed Anika over to Hannah and Gwen.

  Hannah was looking very pretty in a frock of lavender lace with a fringed skirt. She had her strawberry-blonde hair pulled to one side like Veronica Lake, which wasn’t era-appropriate, but suited her well.

  Gwen looked sultry in a green silk dress cut low in the back to show the tiger tattoo on her right shoulder blade. She had painted her lips burgundy and had an armful of spiky bangles.

  They both stared at Anika as she approached. James turned around to see what they were looking at, and he too stared at Anika open-mouthed.

  The wall behind James was one massive gilded mirror. In its reflection, Anika saw what he must be seeing—a vision of the girl he had loved eight years earlier walking toward him.

  Her gown clung to her body like liquid silver at the bodice, shattering into the intricate beading of the skirt that flowed around her limbs as if she were wading through water. In the heels she looked tall and lithe. Her skin glowed with the hectic excitement of the evening, her dark blue eyes sparkling like the sapphire around her neck.

  Next to her: Stella, in a beaded flapper headband, her black gown slit up the thigh and her cleavage pushed up to her chin, looked a bit like a tart in a cheap Halloween costume. Stella noticed the same unflattering contrast and glared at her sister.

  They all stood stunned until Hannah, ever honest and impulsive, broke the silence to say what they were all thinking:

  “Anika, I didn’t even recognize you! You look incredible!”

  Anika blushed. She couldn’t help darting her eyes toward James to see if he agreed, but for once she couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. He was determinedly looking down at his shoes.

  He was extremely handsome himself in a perfectly-fitted tux. The slim cut of his suit showed how strong and athletic he had become, his height apparent even amongst this sea of women in stilettos. He had shaved and had his hair cut, which made his face look especially lean and square-jawed. He looked very tan next to all the New Yorkers, and the tan showed the gray and green tones of his hazel eyes.

  However, there didn’t seem any way to appropriately compliment any of that. So Anika just told the girls how lovely they looked, and how their hard worked had paid off in creating the perfect ambiance.

  Stella interrupted Anika by silently gripping her arm again. Anika wished she wouldn’t—her sharply filed nails were going to leave marks.

  But this time Stella’s jumpiness was justified. Dominic and Marco Moretti were walking toward them.

  Marco looked almost exactly as Anika remembered him—medium height, slim build, flawless skin, and model looks. His wavy dark hair was a little longer now, almost to his shoulders. When he smiled at them all, his teeth gleamed white against his olive skin.

  “Hello there,” Anika smiled at Dominic as he took her hand and kissed her on each cheek.

  “Hello, my angel,” Dominic said. “Marco, this is Anika and Stella Knight, and this is Gwen and Hannah Fletchley—they work in our Red Line office.”

  Marco shook hands all around. Anika noticed that Stella held his hand particularly long. But Marco wasn’t looking at Stella. After a cursory smile at the others, he seemed to be openly captivated by the sight of Anika. This was so obvious that Anika could see James glancing back and forth between the two of them.

  “This is James Dawson,” Anika hastened to introduce him. “He’s visiting from California, and he’s actually been helping us as well—with the gala.”

  “James Dawson?” Marco asked curiously. “From Altarian?”

  “That’s right,” James said, shaking his hand.

  “I think we might have been to a party together once,” Marco said, “on a yacht outside Mykonos.”

  “Last summer?” James said. “I think you’re right.”

  Marco was looking back at Anika again. She saw that his eyes were not brown like his father’s, but a deep, dark green.

  “And you,” he said to Anika in his softly accented voice, “you look very familiar to me as well.”

  “Well,” Anika said hesitatingly, “we did meet once before, but I was only twelve.”

  “I wouldn’t forget that face,” he said. “You must have been a beauty even then.”

  “A beauty in braces!” Stella interjected scornfully.

  Marco smiled politely but kept his attention on Anika.

  “So it’s you we have to thank for all this?” he gestured to the grand expanse of the ballroom.

  “Hannah did the lighting,” Anika said. “Gwen picked the music. And James was the one that convinced the venue to let us have this date—it was actually booked already through the month.”

  “All under my direction,” Stella said, physically stepping between Anika and Marco.

  Gwen snorted loudly, then tried to cover it up by pretending she’d swallowed a sip of champagne the wrong way. Stella turned to glare at her.

  “Are you staying with Dominic while you’re in town?” Anika asked Marco.

  “I am for now, but I’m looking for my own apartment,” Marco said. “I plan to make New York my home. But I’ll admit, I’ve only visited a few times before, I don’t know the best areas. Maybe you could show me around a few of the neighborhoods? Help me find a place not too far from the Bennet Knight studio?”

  “I know a fantastic listing agent,” Stella persisted. “You know, some of these buildings seem elite, but they’re full of lawyers and hedge-fund managers. You want to live by the right people, not just the right zip code. Anika’s a country bumpkin, she doesn’t know anything about the nightlife or the social circles you’ll be interested in.”

  Anika actually did know the city quite well from her university days—at least, from the perspective of where to find the best donair, or how to get to the nearest subway station with the least amount of walking outdoors on a rainy day. But she was more than willing to concede the point that she was unlikely to know the glamorous apartments that someone like Marco would be interested in renting.

  Marco said, “I’m not looking for trendy, actually. I’ve had enough of all that—I’ve come to New York to settle down. Anika, you won’t leave me homeless—you’ll take me out this week, won’t you?” He held her eye, smiling in a beseeching manner.

  Dominic laughed quietly at the idea that continued residence in his immaculately restored brownstone could be considered “homeless,” but he likewise gave Anika a hopeful look. She could tell that he liked the idea of her and Marco spending time together.

  Anika couldn’t help glancing back at James. Somehow, she didn’t want to make plans with Marco right in front of him. In fact, had James caught her eye at that moment, she might have made an excuse to avoid it. But James had turned away from the whole conversation to point out something across the room to Gwen and Hannah.

  After all, Anika had no real reason to refuse Marco’s request—other than Stella’s displeasure. Anika didn’t have to look her way to feel her sister’s wrath burning a hole in the side of her head.

 
“Sure,” she said to Marco, “I’d be glad to help you look.”

  “It’s a date,” he said. “I’ll get your number from my father.”

  Anika couldn’t help feeling a little thrill at his words. It had been a long time since she’d been on a date, whether he meant that seriously or not. This would be good for her. James had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her anymore. It was time to move on.

  Still, whatever James might say, however he might have changed in the last eight years, Anika knew him very well. She knew the micro-expressions of his face, how he shifted his weight when he was nervous, how he pressed his lips together when he was angry. And though James might not admit it even to himself, she knew that when Marco couldn’t stop staring at her, James had been jealous.

  Her suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when Anika made her way down to the dance floor. She had spotted Liam Doyle chatting with Aunt Molly. She joined them, hugging her aunt round the waist and complimenting her deep purple gown and amethyst earrings.

  “Anika, I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” Aunt Molly said seriously. “It’s like seeing your mother standing in front of me again. You know that was her favorite necklace.”

  “I know,” Anika said.

  “Anika,” Mr. Doyle said, “you’re full of surprises. Look at this place! I was here a month ago for a bar mitzvah. You’ve completely transformed it.”

  Anika was about to demur again, but something came into her head that James had told her a long time ago. “You know,” he had teased her, “sometimes you can just accept a compliment.”

  “Thank you,” Anika said to Liam. “Gwen tells me we’re definitely going to hit our donation goal.”

  That was an understatement. Gwen had actually said they’d doubled their goal already, and the guests had yet to reach peak drunkenness, which usually coincided with peak generosity.

  The band—consisting of a bass player, pianist, trumpeter, clarinetist, and drummer, fronted by a curvaceous beauty in a sequined gown and elbow-length silk gloves—was playing ragtime covers of modern songs. They had just wrapped up a jazz rendition of Tove Lo’s “Habits.”