by Marc Levy
“Why fight a ghost, Julia? You’ll have the rest of your life for that. My side of the argument only exists in your memories now. Six days is all we have left. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“And where are we supposed to go, on this little trip?”
“Montreal.”
Julia couldn’t hold back a smile.
“Montreal?”
“No refunds, no exchanges . . . but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to have them change the name of one of the passengers.”
Julia pulled back her hair and put on a coat. When Anthony realized she was leaving, he stood in her way, blocking the door.
“Don’t be like that. Adam said they were as good as trash!”
“He suggested I keep them as a souvenir. Maybe you were so busy eavesdropping you missed the sarcasm. I don’t think he meant I should go with someone else.”
“I’m your father. I’m not just ‘someone else.’”
“Will you please get out of my way?”
“Where are you going?” asked Anthony as he stepped aside.
“To get some fresh air.”
“Are you mad at me?”
He received no response, save his daughter’s footsteps heading down the stairs. He headed straight to the window to watch before turning away to make two phone calls.
Julia climbed into a taxi at the corner of Greenwich Street. She didn’t need to look up to know that her father would be watching as the cab pulled away toward Ninth Avenue.
She had the driver drop her off in SoHo. Normally she would have gone on foot—it was only a twenty-minute walk, and she knew the neighborhood like the back of her hand—but she had been so desperate to get away from her apartment she would have stolen a bike if she had found one unattended. She pushed open the door of the quaint little antique shop. Seated in a baroque armchair, Stanley looked up from his book at the sound of the little bell jingling above the door.
“Garbo in Queen Christina couldn’t have done better!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your entrance. Majestic and terrifying all at once.”
“Don’t make fun of me. Not today.”
“No matter how bad your day is, there’s room for a bit of humor. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Julia walked over to an old bookcase and admired a delicately gilded clock perched on the top shelf.
“Don’t tell me you’re playing hooky just to check what time it was in the eighteenth century?” questioned Stanley, straightening his glasses.
“It’s very pretty.”
“So am I. Something wrong, sweetie?”
“Not a thing. I just stopped by to see you, that’s all.”
“Right. And I’m giving up Louis XVI for pop art,” Stanley quipped, putting down his book.
He approached her and took a seat on the corner of a mahogany table.
“Is my baby-doll having a bad day?”
“You could say that, yeah.”
Julia rested her head on Stanley’s shoulder.
“Yikes. Worse than I thought,” he said, giving her a hug. “I’ll make you some tea a friend sent me from Vietnam. It’s a great detox—he needs the strong stuff, and it looks like you could use some, too.”
Stanley took a teapot from a shelf. He put a kettle of water to boil on the hot plate he kept on the antique desk that served as the shop’s counter. After a few minutes’ letting it infuse, he poured the miracle tea into a pair of porcelain cups he’d drawn from an old armoire. Julia wafted the aroma toward her nose, taking a deep breath to savor the scent of jasmine before taking a sip.
“So? Talk to me. Don’t bother resisting. This divine potion is known to unlock even the most fiercely guarded of secrets.”
“Would you run away with me on a honeymoon?”
“If I had married you, why not? But you’d have to be a Julian instead of a Julia. Otherwise I fear our honeymoon would be rather dull.”
“Come on, Stanley. Close the store for one week and elope with me.”
“How very romantic. Where would we go?”
“Montreal.”
“Oh, no. Never.”
“Why does everyone have something against Quebec, all of a sudden?”
“I didn’t endure six months on the brink of starvation in order to lose ten pounds just to gain them back in a few days. The restaurants in Montreal are almost as irresistible as the waiters. Plus, I hate the thought of being somebody’s plan B.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Am I the first person you thought about for this trip?”
“What does that matter? Anyway, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”
“How about you begin by explaining what’s bothering you?”
“If I told you everything, beginning to end, you wouldn’t believe a single word of it.”
“Right. I’m an idiot. When was the last time you took even half a day off at the beginning of the week, huh?”
Julia remained mute. Stanley plowed on.
“You show up at my store on a Monday morning with coffee breath when you don’t even drink coffee. A rushed makeup job that’s barely hiding the fact that your sweet little head didn’t spend nearly enough time on your pillow last night. Ten minutes? Less? Then you ask me at the last minute to come on a trip with you instead of your fiancé. Cards on the table, baby-doll. Did you sleep with another man last night?”
“God, no!” exclaimed Julia.
“Okay. Then what exactly are you running from?”
“Nothing.”
“All right, honey. I have work to do, so until you trust me enough to talk to me, I’m going to get back to my inventory,” Stanley replied, and made a weak attempt at heading off toward the back of his shop.
“You’re a terrible liar. Inventory? You were falling asleep with a book in your hand when I got here,” said Julia, cracking up.
“Ah, she can still smile after all! Wunderbar!” Stanley gave Julia an affectionate and knowing grin. “The grumpy face was getting a little old. How about a walk? The stores open soon, and I’m sure you could use a new pair of shoes.”
“To add to the collection gathering dust in my closet?”
“This isn’t about the shoes, darling. It’s about your life.”
Julia got up and walked back over to the old bookcase with the little gilded clock. As she picked it up, she noticed the glass face of the clock was missing, and she started exploring the circumference inside with the tip of her finger.
“What a pretty little thing,” she said, nudging the minute hand counterclockwise. The hour hand followed suit, moving in the wrong direction.
“How great would it be if we could go back in time . . .”
“Turn back time? You wouldn’t want to restore that clock to its youth; you’d kill the effect. Look at it this way—it gives us the beauty of its age,” he replied, taking the clock from Julia and putting it back on the shelf. “I really wish you’d tell me what’s up.”
“If you had the chance . . . to take a trip that would let you walk in your parent’s footsteps, would you take it?”
“If there was even a chance of learning the tiniest little thing about my mother? I’d already be on a plane, hassling the flight attendant, instead of wasting my time chatting away with an old queen in an antique shop. You get a chance like that? You take it, honey, no questions asked.”
“What if it’s too little, too late?”
“No such thing. He may be gone, but in some ways, your father is still right by your side.”
“You have no idea.”
“No matter what you keep telling yourself, you do miss him.”
“How could I? After all these years, I got used to him being gone. I learned to live without him.”
“Baby-doll, even children who never knew their biological parents feel the need to find their roots sooner or later. Hard as that may be for those who raised them and loved them, it’s just human nature. It’s hard
to move ahead in life when you don’t know where you come from. So even if it takes embarking on some vague vision quest or whatever you’re thinking, if there’s a chance to really know who your father was, and finally come to grips with the past . . . you should do it.”
“I barely have any memories of us together.”
“Maybe you have a few more than you think. For once, forget that adorable pride of yours and take a chance. And if you can’t justify doing all this for yourself, do it for someone near and dear to my heart. I’ll introduce you to her someday. She’s one hell of a mother, and I’m sure she would understand why you have to do this.”
“And who exactly is that?” Julia asked with a tinge of jealousy.
“You, baby-doll. You, just a few years down the line.”
“You’re the best, Stanley.” Julia planted a kiss on his cheek.
“I had nothing to do with it, darling. It was all the tea.”
“Well, be sure to tell your Vietnamese friend to send more. The stuff is incredible,” added Julia on her way out the door.
“If you like it so much, I can get you some when you come back. I found it at the bodega on the corner.”
7.
Julia climbed the stairs two at a time and opened the door to her apartment. The living room was empty. She called out several times but heard nothing in response. After searching the other rooms, she was certain the apartment was empty. She noticed that a photograph of Anthony in a little silver frame now sat right in the middle of her mantelpiece.
Her father’s voice gave her a jolt, as he asked her where she had been.
“God, you scared me! Where were you?”
“You sound concerned. That’s touching. I was just out for a stroll—boring, sitting here all alone.”
“What’s that all about?” Julia asked, pointing at the picture on the mantel.
“I was settling into my upstairs bedroom—or dungeon might be more appropriate—and I found it, covered in dust. I didn’t think I’d sleep so well with a dirty photo of myself staring back at me. I thought it looked good here, but feel free to move it somewhere else if you like.”
“Do you still want to go on this trip?” asked Julia, ignoring his comment.
“As a matter of fact, I just got back from the travel agency down the street. The Internet can never replace good old-fashioned customer service. There was a lovely young girl working there—in fact, she reminded me of you. But she smiled more . . . What was I saying?”
“Lovely young girl . . .”
“Yes. Well, I managed to convince said girl to make an exception. She spent so long tapping away at her keyboard, I thought she was retyping the collected works of Hemingway, but eventually she confirmed that she could reprint the ticket in my name. While I was at it, I had her issue us an upgrade.”
“You really are something else. All that, before I even say yes?”
“Yes or no, if you’re really bent on pasting the tickets in your scrapbook as a souvenir, they might as well be first class. It’s a question of family honor, my dear.”
As Julia headed toward her bedroom, Anthony asked her what she was doing.
“I’m going to pack a bag for a two-night trip,” she responded. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Might be wise to pack a little extra, since the trip is six days. No refunds, no exchanges. I begged and begged, but lovely as she was, the girl was stubborn and couldn’t bend on that part.”
“Two days!” shouted Julia from the bedroom.
“Oh, have it your way. If worse comes to worse, we can buy you a new pair of pants in Montreal. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the jeans you’re currently wearing are full of holes. I can even see the skin of your knee. They thought ahead and packed everything I might need in order to remain in elegant attire for the duration of my battery life,” he said with a slight air of satisfaction as Julia popped her head out of the bedroom. She noted he held a black leather suitcase, and there was a false bottom revealed in the crate where it must have been stowed. “In your absence, I took the liberty of reclaiming my watch,” he added, proudly extending his wrist. “You don’t have any objections, do you? You’ll inherit it all over again soon enough, if you know what I mean.”
“I’d be very grateful if you’d stop poking around in my things.”
“My dear, poking around in your apartment should be reserved for experienced spelunkers only. I found my things in a manila envelope, sitting abandoned in the middle of your messy attic.”
Julia zipped her bag shut and put it in the entryway, muttering to herself. All that was left was to figure out how to justify her upcoming absence to Adam.
“What do you plan on telling him?” Anthony Walsh asked.
“I think that’s between the two of us,” Julia responded.
“Sure, sure. Just thought you might want to run it by me.”
“Oh, really? Is ‘listening’ also part of your new programming?”
“Whatever you come up with, I highly recommend you don’t tell him where we’re going.”
“I suppose I should take your advice, given your vast experience in secrets.”
“Simply take it for what it is. Now hurry up and go. We have to leave for the airport in two hours.”
The yellow cab dropped Julia off at 1350 Sixth Avenue, and she zipped straight into the towering glass building of the New York publisher where Adam worked. Her phone didn’t get reception in the lobby, so she presented herself at the front desk and asked the security officer to connect her with Mr. Coverman in the children’s books department.
“Is everything okay?” Adam asked when he heard Julia’s voice.
“Are you in a meeting?”
“Yes, we’re going over a mock-up. We’ll be done in fifteen minutes. How about we go to our favorite Italian place after? I can call and book us a table for 8:00 p.m.?”
Adam must have glanced down at his phone and noticed the number on his caller ID.
“Wait, are you in the building?”
“Yeah, I’m down at reception.”
“Jeez, I’m really sorry, but we’re so busy reviewing these new releases—”
“We have to talk,” Julia said, interrupting him.
“Can’t it wait until this evening?”
“I can’t make it to dinner this evening, Adam.”
“I’m coming down,” he responded before hanging up.
Julia waited for him near the reception desk.
“There’s a café on the other side of the lobby,” suggested Adam.
“Why don’t we just head over to the park instead? We’ll be more comfortable outside.”
“Wow. That bad, huh?” he asked as they exited the building.
Julia didn’t answer. They walked up Sixth Avenue and entered Central Park four blocks later.
The tree-lined walkways were shady and deserted, apart from a few joggers wearing headphones and sealed off from the world around them, wholly concentrating on the rhythm of their feet. A gray squirrel came toward Julia and Adam and stood up on its hind legs, hoping they might have some food for him. Julia plunged her hand into the pocket of her trench coat and knelt to offer him a handful of nuts.
The brave little animal scurried a bit closer, then hesitated a moment, greedy eyes still fixed on the unexpected bounty. Hunger eventually trumped fear, and the critter darted forward to snatch a nut, retreating a few feet to gnaw away at it, all the while followed by Julia’s wistful gaze.
“Since when do you carry nuts in your jacket?” asked Adam.
“I knew we would be coming here, so I bought some before I got in the taxi,” Julia replied. She offered a second nut to the squirrel, who was now joined by a jumpy little entourage of his fellow critters.
“I’m guessing you didn’t have me bail on a meeting to show off your talents as an animal tamer . . .”
Julia tossed the rest of the nuts on the grass and signaled that they should continue their walk. Adam followed her.
>
“I’m going away for a little while,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness.
“You’re leaving me?” Adam asked with a mix of worry and disbelief.
“Of course not. I’m just going away for a few days.”
“How many days?”
“Two or . . . six. Six at most.”
“Is it two? Or six?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Julia, you show up unannounced at my office, drag me out of the building with a look on your face like your whole world has fallen apart. Then you barely say a word, like pulling teeth, and I have to—”
“Fine. Sorry I wasted your precious time,” Julia said, growing more caustic and defensive.
Adam stopped her short, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “You’re angry. You have every right to be, but not at me. I’m not the bad guy, Julia. I’m the guy who loves you, good times and bad. Don’t punish me for things that aren’t my fault.”
Julia’s face softened. “My father’s personal assistant called this morning. I have business to take care of. Out of town.”
“Out of town? Where?”
“Vermont, near the Canadian border.”
“Okay, so how about this weekend, we head up, the two of us?”
“It’s urgent. It can’t wait.”
“Does this have something to do with the travel agency that just contacted me?”
“Contacted you . . . about what?” Julia asked, her voice unsteady.
“Somebody came by, apparently, and now they’ve agreed to refund my ticket, but not yours, for some reason. Whole thing was pretty baffling. They didn’t really go into all the details. I was already in a meeting and didn’t have time.”
“It was probably my father’s personal assistant. He’s very good at his job.”
“You’re going to Canada?”
“Near the border. I told you.”
“You really want to go?”
“I think so, yes,” she responded darkly.
Adam took Julia in his arms and held her tightly.
“Go wherever you need to. I won’t ask any more questions. I don’t want to be the untrusting guy twice in a row. Besides, I know you’d never stay away from work for very long. Walk me back to my office?”