Independently Wealthy: A Novel

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

  Twenty-seven

  It was dark outside when I sat beside Tony in the sedan as he drove through the East Village and stopped the car in front of the art gallery at St. Mark’s Place, which was an area with old buildings that had fire escapes and concrete stoops. There were lots of shops and restaurants, and the neighborhood bustled with people.

  “I just love this,” I said, glancing at the makeshift birthday card that Marjorie had crafted after dinner from construction paper and pipe cleaners.

  “If you hadn’t been so secretive, we would’ve had a real card for you.”

  I hugged the construction paper to my heart. “This is real.”

  Tony smiled and glanced at the clock while I slipped the card into my purse. “I’ve got to pick up somebody in the Bronx. I guess you’ll call me when you’re ready to leave?”

  I nodded, and a minute later he was driving away and I was walking toward the gallery. I went inside and stepped onto a wooden floor where I was surrounded by white walls covered in paint-splattered canvases. The room was crowded with people carrying wineglasses and examining pictures, and I didn’t recognize anyone until I saw Medium-Ash-Brown hair.

  “Celeste,” I said, tapping her shoulder.

  She spun around. “Savannah,” she said with a smile. “Trish told me that she and Caroline invited you. So what do you think?” She motioned toward the canvases on the walls.

  “I think everything looks great. You must be keeping this place together.”

  “That’s Trish’s job. I’m just a coordinator … but I love it here,” she said, glancing at the art and the track lighting above our heads. Then she looked at me and smiled again. “I never did thank you for your help.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “Like I told you … I opened the door, but it was up to you to get inside and stay there. Obviously, you did.”

  Her smile broadened. Then she pointed to servers carrying wine bottles and a table covered in crudité. “I have to check on a few things, but you should get something to drink and eat … and Caroline and Trish are right over there.” She nodded to a corner where the two of them were mingling with guests. Not far away were Kitty and Charlie, who admired a painting as they sipped wine. I joined them when I walked away from Celeste.

  “I was planning to talk to you about something on Monday morning,” Kitty told me after she and Charlie and I had chatted for a few minutes. “But since you’re here, I’ll do it now. You don’t mind discussing business on a weekend, do you?”

  “No,” I said as I took a glass of wine from a server.

  “Well,” Kitty began, “July will be your one-year anniversary at Femme. I’ve been thrilled with your performance during the past few months … you’ve worked so hard and put in tons of extra time without being asked. And because of that … I’d like to promote you to assistant editor, effective next week.”

  My hand went limp and I dribbled wine onto the floor. I handed a passing server the glass so I could reach into my purse for some tissues to clean up the mess, and I pulled out a bunch along with Marjorie’s card. It drifted to the floor, and Charlie bent down to grab it.

  “Happy Birthday, Savannah,” he read after he straightened up to his Adonis height. “When is your birthday?”

  “Today,” I admitted, crouching down to clean my spill.

  “We have people for that,” I heard Caroline say. She was suddenly hovering over me, but I stayed where I was and finished sopping up the mess.

  “It’s Savannah’s birthday,” Kitty said, “and she didn’t tell us.”

  I stood up, tossed my tissues into a nearby trash can, and saw Caroline looking at me from behind her glasses.

  “You won’t be able to hide that from us next year,” she said. “And if you think you’re going to get away with it this time, you’re wrong.” She turned to Kitty. “Are you free for lunch on Tuesday? We need to discuss our plans for Savannah’s belated birthday party.”

  I shook my head. “That really isn’t necessary. I—”

  “Need to shut up,” Caroline said. “We don’t ignore special occasions in our family.”

  Our family. I kept thinking she’d take that back, but I should’ve known better by now.

  Trish called Caroline from across the room. Caroline walked away, and I was alone with Kitty and Charlie again. Charlie handed back my birthday card, which I folded into my purse.

  “So,” Kitty said, “I’m waiting for an answer. Do you accept your promotion?”

  “Of course I do,” I told her, trying to control my giddiness. “Thank you, Kitty.”

  “You’ve earned it … and the salary bump.” She let out a laugh. “Not that you’ll need the extra money … especially when your weekly inheritance checks go up this summer.”

  Her deep-set eyes moved over my shoulder and lingered there. I turned around and spotted Ned, who was wearing casual tan pants with a white polo shirt and looking just as GQ as Charlie. I didn’t know he was going to be here, and Kitty seemed even more surprised.

  “Ned,” Charlie said in a light and friendly way, like he was trying to quell the discomfort that saturated the air. He stuck out his hand, and Ned took it.

  “Nice to see you,” Ned told him in the good-sport tone he’d used on Charlie before.

  “I guess you’re here in support of Trish?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes,” Ned replied, glancing around at the paintings. Then he stroked his chin and stared at Charlie while I suspected he’d figured out my riddle. But he didn’t seem quite ready to put it into action, so I gave him a subtle nudge that made him shoot me an irritated glare. It faded quickly, and he cleared his throat and turned to Charlie again. “I’m glad you’re here,” Ned began. “It saves me a call to your agent.”

  Kitty looked confused. Charlie cocked an eyebrow.

  “My agent?” he said.

  Ned nodded. “You might’ve heard I’m not renewing Zachary Parker’s contract.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said slowly. “That’s the rumor.”

  Ned slapped his hands together. “Let me put it to you like this: I’m interested in replacing him with you. It’s no secret that ABN’s ratings skyrocketed when you joined its team, and I can use a man with your talent on mine. I know your contract is up next month … and if you want to make a move to Stone News, have your people call me on Monday and we’ll start negotiations.”

  Charlie’s mouth had been halfway open during Ned’s speech, and now Kitty’s was, too. She and Charlie looked at each other and back at Ned, and then Charlie smiled.

  “To be truthful,” Charlie said, “I’ve been dying for that morning-show job ever since I heard it was going to open up … but I didn’t think you’d even consider me.”

  My words exactly. I glued my eyes to the floor so I wouldn’t laugh.

  Ned cleared his throat again. “I don’t let my personal life get in the way of business.”

  I swallowed a giggle as someone called Charlie’s name from a corner of the room. He looked that way, waved, and turned back to Ned.

  “That’s a friend of mine I haven’t seen for two years,” Charlie said, “and I’d like to talk to him … so I hope you don’t mind if I excuse myself. But I really appreciate this opportunity, Ned … and you can be sure my agent will be in touch first thing on Monday morning.”

  Charlie stuck out his hand for the second time. Ned shook it, and then Charlie stepped away but Kitty stayed where she was, just staring at Ned.

  “Why’d you do that?” she asked suspiciously.

  Ned was quiet as he stared back at her. “Because,” he said finally, “it was the right thing. And … I owe it to you. I owe you much more, actually.”

  Kitty studied him as people maneuvered around us to get to a painting on a nearby wall. The room was filled with conversation, but a hush fell when a glass slipped off a server’s tray and shattered on the floor. Then everyone started talking again, and so did Kitty.

  “Thank you,” was all she said.

>   Ned gave her a nod. Kitty walked away and joined Charlie, and then Ned squared his broad shoulders and lifted his chin like he was absorbing a shot to the kidneys.

  “That was the right thing,” I told him.

  He kept his eyes straight ahead. “You should tell her that it was your idea.”

  “No,” I said, “I shouldn’t.”

  He looked down his straight nose at me. Then he nodded once more and moved his gaze to the other side of the room. I looked that way and saw Celeste greeting guests at the door.

  “Good night, Savannah,” he said, shifting his attention to me again.

  I smiled. “I’ll see you soon, Ned.”

  He smiled back before he turned and walked away. I watched him weave through the crowd, and I kept watching when he was with Celeste. I wished I could get closer to eavesdrop, but I just stayed where I was while Ned began to talk and Celeste looked up at him, nodding occasionally. She gave him a smile when he was through. Then he headed for the front door, and a minute later he was gone.

  I hurried over to Celeste. “What did Ned say?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Not much. Just that he was sorry about what happened between us … and he wished me all the best.”

  “He told you he was sorry?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Don’t you think he should be?”

  I nodded. “Of course he should.”

  “Then why do you look so surprised?”

  I was surprised because I’d never heard with my own ears or been told by anyone that Ned had uttered those words. I’d thought his fear of looking weak would keep him from ever saying them. But maybe he’d figured out that they made him so much stronger.

  “The thing is,” I began, struggling to summarize decades of Stone family history into a few sentences. It was the only way to explain. I couldn’t though, so I just said, “Ned’s apology might seem like nothing to you. But believe me … for him, it’s a lot.”

  She nodded slowly. She seemed to understand things I hadn’t said. “I know. I could tell. And it didn’t seem like nothing.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised again. “Well … I’m glad, Celeste.”

  She put her arms around me and gave me a warm hug. “Good-bye, Savannah.”

  “Good luck,” I said, hugging her back.

  *

  I walked out to St. Mark’s Place and called Tony. He showed up a few minutes later and soon we were parked in front of 15 Central Park West, where we sat together in the car and I told him about my promotion.

  “I’m going to be an assistant editor,” I said.

  He whistled like that impressed him. “Congratulations, boss. You deserve that. It seems like you’re finally being appreciated.”

  “Yeah,” I said, thinking that was true about more than just my job. I reached for the door and opened it, letting in a rush of beautifully cool air. “Enjoy the rest of the weekend, Tony.”

  He smiled. “Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Savannah.”

  I smiled, too, got out of the car, shut the door, and watched him drive away. Then I greeted my doorman and walked through the lobby and went upstairs to my apartment. I slipped out of my sweater but stayed in my dress as I strolled around, looking at everything the way I had during my first day there.

  I admired the pale lemon walls, the shiny hardwood floors, the bedrooms with their amazing views. Eventually I went into my room, where I took off my aquamarine necklace and cleared a special spot for it inside my jewelry box, right beside my brooch from Edward.

  A few minutes later I was in the kitchen. I’d left the window open and my flowers on the table, and that star-shaped balloon was still hovering in a corner. I walked past it and toward the cupcakes that Jack had sent, which were inside their box in the middle of the counter. I grabbed a plate from a cabinet and chose a cupcake from the box, and then I searched inside a drawer, sure I had some candles left over from Alex’s last birthday.

  There was something else in that drawer—the outline for the novel I’d started working on last fall. I’d had reasons to abandon it, but those reasons didn’t exist anymore. So I decided to get back to work in the morning, and I left the outline on the table so I’d see it before breakfast. After that, I rummaged through another drawer.

  I found just one candle. I stuck it into the cupcake, snatched up a book of matches, and carried everything to the window seat, where I lit the wick before I sat down and gazed at Manhattan—at the buildings glittering against the dark sky and the stretch of trees beneath them.

  I tried to think of a wish, but it was hard to find … and I knew why. So many wishes had already come true. But there were more waiting out there, and they came to mind as the candle flickered and the city stared at me. Then I smiled and closed my eyes and made a string of brand-new wishes as I heard my voice inside my head saying Happy birthday to me.

  ALSO BY LORRAINE ZAGO ROSENTHAL

  New Money

  Other Words for Love

  About the Author

  LORRAINE ZAGO ROSENTHAL was born and raised in New York City. She is a graduate of the University of South Florida, and she has a master’s degree in English from Northern Kentucky University. Lorraine’s debut novel, Other Words for Love, was published in 2011, and her second novel, New Money, was published in 2013. She lives near Cincinnati with her husband.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

  An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

  INDEPENDENTLY WEALTHY. Copyright © 2014 by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.thomasdunnebooks.com

  www.stmartins.com

  Cover design by Danielle Fiorella

  Cover photographs: Washington, D.C. © Orhan Cam/Shutterstock.com; woman © Shuan Egan/Getty Images

  eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-04035-0 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-1-46683563-4 (e-book)

  e-ISBN 9781466835634

  First Edition: December 2014