“But here’s the only piece of advice I can really give you. And it’s not pretty. Tricia’s asleep most nights not long after dinner, isn’t she?”
Charley nodded.
“And if it wasn’t New Year’s Eve? If it was some random Monday and Tuesday Joanna invited you away? I mean, I’m not the pope, babe, but I’m absolving you.”
They’d arrived in front of Brooke’s building. “Here’s your pasta. I got you some linguini for that sautéed vegetable dish you do.”
Charley dropped the little brown bag into the handled bag with her quart of strawberries. “These berries had better last,” she said peering into the bag. “They were expensive.”
“It’s New York. Everything’s expensive. Go, take care of the cats before they call Child Services and report you.”
Charley stuck her arm out for a cab. “Thanks for your advice.”
“Not sure it was worth much.”
“Hey, it’s New York,” Charley said as she opened the door of the cab that had pulled up. “Everything’s expensive.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Charley figured Tricia was getting ready for bed and went to say good night to her about an hour after dinner. She found her in her pajamas standing at the window watching the snow drifting down over a Sunday night Manhattan ablaze with holiday parties. The wheelchair was in front of her, and she steadied herself on the back of it, one hand on the wall. The portable oxygen machine stood silently next to the bed, the tube tucked under the pillow. Charley’s chest ached at the sight and her eyes burned with tears.
“This is my last Christmas.” Tricia turned, catching Charley by surprise. “I saw your reflection.”
Charley caught the pain and uncertainty in her eyes.
“I wonder who will be standing here next year?” Tricia asked.
If she concentrated on the floor, Charley knew she’d be able to keep her emotions in check. She wanted to tell Tricia to hush, but she realized shedding light on her fear might be her safety valve. “Why don’t you come back and find out?”
Tricia’s laugh was gentle. “Come on, you don’t believe in that stuff, do you?”
Charley shrugged. “If it turns out to be true, you have to let me know.”
“What, give you a sign?”
“Yes.”
“You do believe.” Amused, she gazed out the window again. “Well, maybe I will come back.” She sighed. “I love Christmas.”
Charley put her hand in her pocket to find the balance stone, and remembered she’d given it to Neely.
“Most of us don’t get this chance to say good-bye. Or in your case, flag me from the afterlife.” Tricia chuckled.
Charley wanted to laugh at Tricia’s macabre joke but was afraid if she opened her mouth, she’d cry.
“I’m glad you met Joanna, you know. I’m glad I’ve been here to see what’s happening between the two of you.”
“Nothing is happening between the two of us, Trish.”
“You can’t see it because you’re in the middle of it. But despite the distance the two of you are trying to maintain because of me, I can see the bridge going up piling by piling, the main anchor cables, even the suspension cables.”
“How can you be so okay with it?”
“Oh, it isn’t easy, trust me. But I love you, Charley, and it’s time. She’s exactly who you need, and she needs someone like you. And I need to know you’ll be okay when I’m gone.”
“I won’t be.” She picked up one of the blown glass ornaments Tricia had artfully arranged in a silver bowl on her nightstand and studied it in her hand, tears threatening again.
“Yeah, you will. It’ll take a while, but you will be. And she’ll be the key to that.”
Charley couldn’t look at her, fiddling with the ornament instead.
Tricia pushed the lock of hair that had fallen over Charley’s eye back into place. “You’re going to have to pull her trip wire. You must know that by now.”
She didn’t want to hear any of this, so she chose to address a problem she and Tricia hadn’t resolved some weeks ago. “What are you doing about your brother? And his kids? We never finished that conversation.”
“I’ll get my lawyer to contact Dennis when I’m gone, just to let the family know.”
“That’s a little harsh. Don’t you want to see them?”
“How many times did I go back home to see any of them?”
“Never.”
“They didn’t want me. It made turning my back on them much easier.” Tricia perched on the window bench. “You know, the day I bought the Modigliani, I thought of them. I wondered if they’d even know what it was, how much it was worth, or what it meant that a farm girl from Nebraska had climbed the kind of pinnacle that put a painting like that within my grasp.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“The Met is getting it.”
Charley thought about that for a moment. “Did you buy it with her?”
“No. I bought it when I knew she was leaving me. A lot of money was tied up in paying for it. She wanted it, though, so I gifted it to the Met before she could try and do anything about it.”
Charley wanted to ask so much more, but all she could do was watch the snow fall.
“You want to know about Reagan, where she stands in all this.”
Charley tried to appear aloof, but Tricia shook her head, amused. “I have marveled at your restraint for so many weeks.” She sighed. “There was nothing left of our relationship when Reagan walked. I bought the apartment she wanted, I gave her anything her heart desired, and she still left me.” Tricia rearranged a pillow on the bench. “Oh, Lord, I’m beyond tired. Where’s Alexandra? I need help getting into bed.”
Charley drew back the covers on the bed. “The Modigliani…that’s why you need the buyout at your firm, isn’t it?”
Tricia’s whole body sagged, revealing a defeat Charley had never seen before.
“How are you, financially? Do you have assets you need to deal with?”
“You’re standing in them.”
“Your co-op?”
“It’s almost all I have left.”
Charley was so stunned she didn’t know what to say. “Does your legal team know?”
Tricia chuckled. “It’s why they’re fighting so hard for me. They’d like to get paid.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Charley helped Tricia shift to the bed.
“You’ve been doing it for weeks. Good night. Go, and send Alexandra in, would you?”
Charley stood outside Tricia’s building looking up at it through the fat, soft flakes of snow wafting down. Then she headed west across Ninth Street toward the Village. It had been a long time since she’d been to that neighborhood, and she was feeling the need to anchor herself in a moment in her life before Tricia had entered it.
At Washington Street, she zigzagged around the neighborhood that had been such a touchstone of identity for her when she was growing up. She looked sadly at the changes gentrification had wrought. Stores sprouted where old haunts used to be, homogeneous bars replaced and erased old dives, and old buildings she recognized from their bones had gotten facelifts that had cost them their charm. The High Line had changed everything down here. She walked farther west, looking for remnants of anything she knew. Waiting for a red light on a corner that could still evoke the far edges of the old Meatpacking District, she finally smiled. This felt more like the old days. A scruffy no-name club across the street announced its existence in the middle of the dark block, strings of white lights outlining the door that an imposing bouncer blocked. She stood looking at it as the light turned green, thinking of all the times years ago that she hadn’t had the nerve to enter places like that. A couple walked toward the club, and Charley was about to turn away when she thought she recognized Georgia, that lush red hair swept over one shoulder. The woman with her, dressed head to toe in black leather, was Joanna. The bouncer opened the door to them as though he knew them. Charl
ey was stunned. Did this mean the horse hadn’t slipped its knot? And, obviously, that necklace meant what she’d thought it meant the first time she’d seen it.
She didn’t even know where to begin with all this information, or what to feel, and she leaned against the lamp post watching the few cabs and delivery trucks whiz by for several minutes. Then, driven by a greater need to know, she crossed the street. The bouncer eyed her stonily as she approached him. “Can I ask what kind of club this is?”
“You need to be a member to get in. Or be with someone who is.”
Charley nodded. “Thank you.” She walked back across the street no more enlightened, although she knew. She hadn’t needed to ask him. Hearing the club’s door open, and the bouncer speaking to someone, she glanced back. Joanna stood with the man for a moment, shook his hand, and then headed across the street toward her. If she slinked off or hailed a cab, and she desperately wanted to do one or the other, Joanna might not spot her. But she couldn’t have, anyway, because she couldn’t take her eyes off Joanna, nor could she say anything when Joanna, approaching, recognized her, and stopped.
“Charley…”
“Hi.” A trickle of sweat ran down her back, even though it was that kind of crisp, quiet thirty degrees out brought on by snowfalls. The handcuffs on the necklace were resting just below the hollow of Joanna’s neck.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.” Charley tried to look nonchalant, but she knew by the confused look on Joanna’s face that it wasn’t working.
“This neighborhood?”
She sighed. “I was at Tricia’s for dinner tonight. We had a…very difficult conversation.” Over Joanna’s shoulder, the lights from the corner bodega pierced the dark. “Just one of many lately.” She caught the concern in Joanna’s emerald eyes. “Anyway, I needed to take a walk. This is the neighborhood I grew up in. It was where my mother could afford an apartment when we first moved back to the city after my dad died. I guess I came back looking for pieces of me. And then, I saw you. And Georgia. Going into the club.”
“Oh.” Joanna shifted her stance. “Georgia’s had a membership there for years. And I just gave mine up tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She brought me into the lifestyle, but I can’t do any of this with her anymore.”
“You left her there?”
“Yes. We came down tonight because she needed something. And when we got here, I realized I was no longer willing to let her have it. Not from me, anyway.”
“Is that what your relationship was?” Charley nodded toward the club.
“I told you she owned me in so many ways. But that’s over. I need to take my life back.” She pulled her jacket closer against the cold. “I need to be with someone who…sees me,” she said softly.
Charley bit her bottom lip. “So, it’s really over with her?”
Joanna nodded.
Charley glanced at the club again.
“If Georgia wasn’t in there, I’d take you in.”
“Oh, no, I…”
“It can be fun, you know. In the right hands.” Joanna arched an eyebrow.
Charley had to stop herself from looking at those hands. “I’m going to take that under advisement. Meantime, I’m going to grab a cab home. Can I drop you anywhere?”
“Forty-Second Street.”
Charley stepped into the street with her arm raised. I’m not sure I’m sharing this conversation with Brooke.
The silence didn’t bother Charley as she sat next to Joanna in the cab, watching her as she concentrated on the Tenth Avenue scenery flashing past her window.
“I read your chapters,” Joanna finally said, still looking out her window.
“Oh?”
“Started reading them that night.”
“Okay…” She held her breath.
Joanna turned to her. “I read way past my bedtime. It’s good, Charley.”
Charley stifled her sense of elation. “Thanks.”
“I do have a couple of observations. Well, and a question.”
“Okay.”
Joanna put her hand on the seat between them to steady herself as the cab lurched to a stop at a red light. “The second story line that runs concurrently with the first one—that’s you and Tricia, isn’t it?”
Charley nodded.
“It’s a beautiful portrayal. Heartbreaking.”
Charley gently ran her thumb over the back of Joanna’s hand.
“The younger version of you, though, is she too omniscient? Is there any way to give her the gift of ignorance?”
“I had that note recently from Neely. So, I’m working on changing that.”
“I’d like to read more of it, when you have it.”
The cab stopped at Ninth Avenue to drop Joanna. “I’m glad we ran into each other. You remember the pool’s closed tomorrow, Christmas Eve?” Joanna asked.
Charley nodded. “I’ll see you Tuesday at Tricia’s.”
“You’re really making a roast duck?”
“It was our tradition for years. But maybe you should bring your bottle of cinnamon.”
Joanna opened the door of the cab and went to step out. “Very funny.”
Charley reached for her arm. “Joanna.”
She turned back.
“I’m glad it’s over with Georgia.”
“I knew you would be.” She smiled sadly. “Good night.”
Charley turned to watch her cross the street as the cab pulled away.
Chapter Thirty-three
“Why is it that everyone has to be in the kitchen when the cook is working?” Charley asked, wiping her hands on her apron, spent oranges all over the counter.
Ted, in a Santa hat, pulled two beers from the refrigerator and handed one to Ryan. “Because it’s warm and inviting and we all want to watch you work on the duck.”
“Leave her alone and come back to the Monopoly game,” Tricia said, sitting at the kitchen table jiggling the dice in her hand. “I’m winning and I want Boardwalk from you.”
“Never! I’ll sell everything I have to Ryan first.” Ted sat back down at the game.
Joanna began collecting orange rinds and putting them in the trash. “What else do you need for the glaze? Oh, my God, I’m so sick of Christmas carols.”
Charley picked up the iPod, scrolled through the list, and hit a song. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” filled the room. She looked at Joanna. “Are you now. And all I need is the Grand Marnier. It’s way in the back of the liquor cabinet.”
Joanna left the room and Charley tied the ducks, put them in the roasting pan, and turned on the oven. She watched the Monopoly game, took her phone out of her pocket, and surreptitiously snapped a picture of the three of them arguing over the Luxury Tax Tricia had landed on.
“You’ve got more money than God, of course you have to triple it!” Ted exclaimed.
“Show me where it says that in the rules, you money-grubbing cockroach.”
Charley shielded the phone as she looked at the picture, not wanting Tricia to see her or know she’d taken what would be one of the last photos she’d ever have of her, the sun pouring in the window behind her as she laughed at Ted, the blue shawl over her shoulders, the now ever-present oxygen tube in her nose. Joanna handed Charley the bottle, saw the tears in her eyes, and picked up the spatula. “I’m going to encourage her to take a nap now.”
Charley nodded and went back to work on the orange glaze.
After dinner, Ted set up the puzzle he’d put under the Christmas tree for Tricia on a card table near the fireplace. Charley quietly approached him.
“Are you kidding? I can’t believe you got it for her. That’s gonna take weeks…”
“I think that’s why Tricia asked Santa for it.”
Charley deflated, struck by the meaning of what Tricia was really asking, and that Ted had fulfilled her wish without judgment.
“Oh, good!” Tricia said as Joann
a rolled her chair up to the table. “I hate these. A million pieces of blue sky and one small colorful hot air balloon sailing over all these mountains.” She picked up the box cover and pointed at the greenery. “I swear, the guys who ran the Spanish Inquisition should’ve used these to torture people. It’ll take me forever just to fit two pieces together.”
Ted looked at Charley as Joanna sat down at the table with Tricia. “One hour. And don’t blow a gasket trying to find those two pieces.”
“I don’t have many gaskets left to blow,” Tricia said.
Hours later, Ted and Ryan gone and Tricia in bed, Joanna sat in front of the fire. Charley brought out a cold bottle of Dom Perignon, a bowl of strawberries, and two wide-bowled etched art deco glasses from the kitchen.
“What are you doing? Is that the bottle your neighbor gave you for Christmas?”
“Yes.” Charley put several pieces of strawberries into the bowls of the glasses. The firelight caught the delicate filigree, and they reflected the prismed light back. She popped the cork on the bottle, corralling the froth into the glasses, then handing one to Joanna.
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing.”
Charley reached over the back of the couch and took a wrapped box from behind one of the Provincetown buildings where she’d hidden it earlier and handed it to her. “Merry Christmas.”
“You already got me something.”
“That was the public gift. This is the one from my heart.”
Joanna looked at her warily.
“Consider it payback for the cuff links.”
“Not fair.”
“Oh, so you can spring a gift, but I can’t?”
Joanna lifted the glass, breathed in the bubbles, and touched her glass to Charley’s. She took a sip, dropped three more strawberry pieces into her glass, and drank them in. “I like these.” She shook the box. “I don’t think I hear diamonds.”
“You won’t know that until you open it.”
Joanna pulled the ribbon and carefully unwrapped the paper. The lid of the box stuck a little, but when she got it off, she looked at the bracelet and then at Charley, who thought her eyes almost glittered. When Joanna didn’t move, she lifted the bracelet from the box and slipped it onto her wrist.
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