Tabby and I look at each other, trying not to make faces. Tabby pulls herself together first. “Sounds, um, fantastic. Can’t wait.” She heads down the hall. “I call first shower!”
Darn. She always does that. “Leave me some hot water, or so help me, I’ll tell David how much your wedding gown is setting you back.”
“Too late,” she calls. “I already did.”
“You’re a disgrace. Mother says if a dress costs six hundred, you say two. If it costs two, you claim seventy-five.”
Come to think of it, is it any wonder she and my dad struggled with their relationship? Maybe it wasn’t all his fault, after all. Well, I still say it mostly was. He was the one who was unfaithful.
I slip into the kitchen, where Laini is pouring us each a cup of coffee. “I had a feeling you’d be looking for some caffeine.”
“Hey, need any help?”
“Don’t you dare touch a thing in my kitchen,” Laini says with a mock New York-mother tone.
“Yes, ma’am.” I laugh and sit with my coffee. “How long are you going to be around today?”
“I don’t have class until noon.” She shrugs. “But I have to deliver some stuffed sandwiches and cinnamon rolls to Nick’s. I could use some help. That way, you could stay up longer and maybe sleep tonight.”
“All right.” Laini cooks for us every single day. I know she loves it, but still, if I can help her even once, I have no right to refuse. “I’ll help.”
A wide grin splits her face. “Good, because I have to ask Nick for a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I need a project, and I’m wondering if he’ll let me decorate his place. He’s going to need help, since they’re buying the building next door and expanding the shop.”
“They are?” I had no idea.
Laini nods. “It was Joe’s idea. They’re going to connect the two buildings with an outdoor café area. And they’ll have two dining rooms. They’ll also expand the menu and serve dinner. Italian foods mostly.”
“Naturally.” I grin. “I think that’s a great idea. Nick’s going for it, huh?”
“Yeah, he seems happy with the way Joe is working out.”
Nick actually smiles when we walk in. “Princess! I ain’t seen you in a while. That job keepin’ you too busy to have a cup of that green tea you like?”
“I’ve been working at home.”
“What do you mean?” He gives me a frown. “They let you do that?”
“I quit.” I suppose there’s no sense in keeping that information from him.
“You quit? Why’d you do that?”
“Because her boss was a creep who wouldn’t keep his hands to himself,” Laini speaks up.
Anger flashes across Nick’s face. “It’s okay, Nick. I have a new freelance company and I’m doing really well.”
“Good for you. I always knew you had it in ya.”
“She’s also writing a book that might get published,” Laini says. Her pride in me shows in her smile.
“Well, we’ll see about that.” This is a subject I’m not delving into. I turn the focus on Nick. “So, Laini tells me you’re about to expand.”
Nick’s face flushes with pleasure. “Business is good, and my nephew is a real humdinger. He’s turning this place into a gold mine.”
“I’m so happy for you!”
“Yep, he’s takin’ over, and I’m going to live in California with my Nelda.”
My heart sinks. “You’re leaving?”
“Nita and my Nelda need me. It don’t look like our girl’s gonna make it, and I want to be there for the last few weeks or months.”
“I’m so sorry, Nick.”
“We’re not givin’ up ’til the angels take her. We’re still prayin’ for a miracle.”
“So, when are you leaving?”
“I’m goin’ out to visit for Christmas, and I’m not comin’ back. We’re puttin’ everything in storage, and Joe’s takin’ over the apartment upstairs, too.”
“Are you sure about this? You love this place.”
He gives what I can only describe as a breath of surrender. “Not as much as I love my family. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I’ll miss you, Nick.”
He nods. “I’ll miss you too, kid. You done good by me. I’ll always be grateful for the way you stepped in and helped me out during some rough spots. I’m proud of you like you was my own daughter.”
My throat tightens. Nick’s praise means more to me than I can express. Does he know that my own father has never once said he was proud of me?
19
The weeks after her dad died seemed like the longest of Valerie’s life. And now that her mom was returning to Africa, she felt a heaviness with every waking moment. One day melted into the next until there was nothing but sameness. Even Ben and the children bored her, and she couldn’t muster up enthusiasm for their presence the way she once could.
She found herself constantly thinking of John Quest. His eyes, his mouth, his kisses. Without thinking she picked up the phone and dialed his number.
“Hello?”
Her heart jumped, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer. “Val, is that you?”
Still she couldn’t say a word.
“I know it’s you, honey. I saw your name on caller ID. Talk to me.”
Without a word, Valerie burst into tears and slammed down the phone. John would never be the man she needed him to be.
—An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess
by Dancy Ames
I’m looking right at my little brother, but I have to be honest—if I saw him on the street, I’d never recognize him. The spikes are gone, and his head is buzzed, but not in a geeky way. He looks very hip. Also, there’s not a piece of metal sticking out of any visible spot on his body.
True to his word, he meets me in front of the concert hall where he will be performing in about an hour. He called me on the spur of the moment and asked if I wanted to go. “Yes” flew out of my mouth before my mind could form any other answer. I haven’t seen Brandon since the night of the engagement party last Saturday, and I can’t believe the transformation in my kid brother.
I grab him and give him a little hug, which he actually returns in a quick, pat-me-on-the-back sort of way. But that’s okay. It’s a start. I reach up and rub my hand over his fuzzy scalp. “Hey, what happened to you?”
He grins at me. “You mean my desperate cry for help?”
“Something like that.”
A shrug lifts his shoulders. “I got over it.”
“Let me guess—the thought of seeing a certain girl from Oklahoma helped you to mend your ways?”
“Not exactly. But it didn’t hurt.”
“Well, Brynn’s little sister is going to be surprised to see you. I think you scared her a little.”
“I scared a lot of people. Even my mom.”
He looks so sad. I just want to wrap my arms around him and assure him that his mother would be here if she had any choice. “I don’t think your hair had anything to do with your mom’s need to take care of your grandma.”
“Probably not. But she didn’t exactly beg me to go with her.”
“It’s hard to concentrate on caring for a sick loved one and a teenager at the same time.”
“I guess.” His expression changes, and I know he’s forcing a smile. “You ready to go inside and face a room of musically inclined teenagers?”
“I’m not scared of any of you,” I say with mock bravery.
“You should be afraid. Be very afraid.” He laughs and steps aside for me to enter. I step in ahead of him, still grinning over his comment.
“Hey, Dancy,” he whispers.
I turn to him. “What?”
“What’s up with the weight gain?”
“How would you like me to slap you?”
“Don’t blame me that your butt’s gotten bigger. Must be Laini’s cooking.” He snickers; then his eyes widen. “Hey, how about in
viting me over for a home-cooked meal?”
“After that remark? Why should I?”
He grins. “The more I eat, the less calories you’ll consume.”
“Brat.”
“Chub.”
“I’m not speaking to you,” I say as we enter the hall.
“Wait, Dancy.”
“What, cretin?”
Worry clouds his eyes. “You know I was kidding, right? If I really thought you were fat, I wouldn’t have said anything. You look really good for a middle-aged chick.”
Okay, now I’m torn. Do I let him off the hook and admit that I wasn’t really offended? Or do I let him suffer for the middle-aged-chick remark? He looks so sweet and young and innocent with the new hair (or lack of it) and his equally new clean-cut image, I just don’t have the heart to make him suffer.
“It’s okay, Brandon. I’m not really mad.”
Relief covers his face.
“Furthermore, I’ll ask Laini when is a good time to invite you over.”
“You don’t have to.”
Poor kid.
“Are you kidding me? Laini needs people around eating her food. It’s where all of her self-esteem lies. And besides”—I nudge him with my elbow—“you were right. I need someone to help with all those calories. Heaven forbid I gain another pound.” If my size 6 behind is noticeable to a teenager, maybe it’s time I get back to the gym.
Squeeze, honey! You’re not going to get back into that size 4 unless you work that butt.”
Why did I ever agree to start working out with Tabby and her sadistic trainer, Freddie? I don’t think I’m even supposed to be here. Freddie is on staff at the gym on the set of Legacy of Life. And besides, what’s wrong with being a size 6? I mean, I don’t want to hear the answer from my mom, but Tabby is a size 6, and she was nominated for an Emmy. And she looks amazing. And honestly? I don’t think there’s an ounce of fat on her.
“Nobody likes a chubby girl.” Freddie’s just a pain in my derriere. Literally and figuratively.
I stop my walking lunges and whip around to face him. “Lots of people like chubby girls.”
“I’m not talking about chubby-chasing freaks. When was your last date?”
Okay, I can be smug about this one, because I just had one. “None of your business.”
“Leave her alone, Freddie,” Tabby says, as any true friend would. “Dancy is too good for all the jerks out there trying to date her.”
Tabby steps off the treadmill, and I hear Freddie expel an exasperated grunt. He’s muttering something under his breath, but I ignore it. Tabby takes my hands. “I know I’ve been preoccupied with work and David and the kids, but nothing will ever replace our friendship.”
“Thanks, Tabs.” In my heart, I truly do know this, but sometimes when I’m lonely and Tabby is gone into her happy life that doesn’t include me, and Laini is happily baking and whistling while she works, I wonder where I’ll be when all my friends are married and I’m all alone. Because marriage doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.
“If you two start singing ‘That’s What Friends Are For,’ I’m going to weep.” Freddie’s a pain. He really is. He claps his hands together. “Okay, enough bonding. Do you want to fit into that wedding gown you spent way too much money on, girlfriend? Or do you want to call the designer and tell her to let it out a few feet?”
I’m about to tell him to shove it when he turns on me. “And you, have you never heard of a thong, girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Those panty lines are downright scary.”
“Believe me,” I say, this close to punching him, “I’d rather have panty lines any day. So don’t even go there.”
“Fine, whatever. Do whatever you want.”
“I will. I’m getting on the bike.”
“Over my dead body, girlfriend.” He steps in my path. “You get back to those lunges.”
“Does anyone like you?” I ask through narrowed eyes.
“Did you call me, or did I call you?” he demands, hands on hips. Okay, he has a point. Mainly I wanted to spend time with Tabby, though, not be put through cruel and unusual punishment. I’m used to running, but lunges are in a painful league of their own.
“Okay, Freddie.” I finally surrender. “You’re the boss. Whip me into shape.”
“Good girl. Now remember, when you’re throwing up after the workout, you asked for it.” Without waiting for an answer, he bends forward and presses a kiss to my cheek. It feels a little like the kiss of death.
I love November. The air is crisp, I get to wear winter clothes. The city is waking up to holiday decorations, and the Christmas stress doesn’t start for a couple more weeks. Not until the day after Thanksgiving. Right now is the perfect time. The crowded streets are filled with smiling people, and we could experience our first snowfall of the year any day.
The wind whips around my legs and blows in my face, threatening to steal my breath, and yet I’m in a good mood. I’m almost to my apartment when my cell phone buzzes.
Sheri. My heart does a somersault. “Sheri. What’s up?”
“Hi, I just had to call. I think we want to see the rest of the manuscript. Is it available?”
She said “I think.” Which means, it could be okay, but it isn’t wowing her yet.
“I’m not quite finished with it. But almost.”
“All right. When you’re ready, will you send it to me? ASAP.”
“Will do.”
Another call beeps in. “Sheri, my mother is trying to reach me.”
“I’ll let you go. But don’t forget to get me that manuscript.”
I promise and click over without saying good-bye. “Mother?”
“Brynn and Kale just called. They want us all to meet at your father’s apartment.”
She still calls it Dad’s apartment, even though she’s been living there for two months. “Did they say why?” Dread hits me as I recall my last conversation with Brynn. I pray they aren’t announcing their breakup.
“No. Just that they need us all to be there.”
20
Ben sat across from her at Sophia Lamour’s, an exclusive dinner spot—ridiculously expensive and almost impossible to get into. They sat in a romantic little booth in the back of the dining room. Valerie had to wonder how much Ben had paid the maître d’ to make that happen.
“This is just lovely, Ben.” She smiled at this kind man, and her heart swelled with affection.
“You’re lovely, my dear.” He reached out his hand and she slipped her fingers into his palm. “Do you realize what day this is?”
There was no point in pretending. “You’ll have to remind me,” she said.
“Six months ago today, you came to work at the office.”
“Oh! I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I’ll never forget. That was the day I started living again.”
—An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess
by Dancy Ames
I’ve never seen my mother so upset. Dad’s apartment is stunningly redecorated, but Dad looks absolutely miserable without his dead animals everywhere. I guess that’s the price he’s willing to pay to get Mom back in his life.
“Caroline, calm down,” he says. Imagine—Dad, the voice of reason. He truly is growing up. “The kids have a right to live their own lives.”
Kale and Brynn are sitting at the table, staring at a half-eaten Cornish hen, unable to meet Mother’s tearful gaze.
“Mother,” I say.
“Leave it alone, Dancy.”
Why is she upset with me? I’m not the one who ran off and eloped. Kale is.
And that’s not all.
“You don’t want the condo?” Mother is losing her cool. “What are you two thinking? No one turns down a multi-million-dollar condo with a view of Central Park!”
Kale finally takes his wife’s hand and stares squarely into my mother’s eyes. “It was a great gift, Mother, and we truly appreciate it.”
&n
bsp; “Well, you certainly don’t act like you appreciate it.”
Brynn gives a barely audible sigh. “Caroline, please believe me. We love the gift, and there’s no place we’d rather live . . . if we planned to stay in New York.”
I gape as realization hits me. Brynn actually talked my brother into leaving. They’re moving out of New York. My gaze swings to Mother, and by the utter horror in her eyes, I can see she’s reached the same conclusion.
My gut clenches. Something is about to hit the fan.
“And just where, may I ask, do you plan to live, if not here?” Mother asks this not of Brynn, her frown squarely facing my brother.
“Oklahoma.” He says the word simply as though it’s a relief to get the revelation over with.
The thing is, Mother’s not looking too relieved. Her lip tightens, and she sits back in the chair, as though all words have escaped her. Which would be a first.
“What do you intend to do in Oklahoma, son?” Dad asks.
Kale’s face brightens. “I’ve decided to go into family practice.”
“And there are no families in New York?” Mother asks, her lips tight, her face void of all color.
“Brynn wants to live near her family. And you know I’ve always loved rural areas.”
Poor Brynn. Did Kale really just pass the buck? Mother’s glaring at her new daughter-in-law, and I know she’s thinking Kale never would have thought about moving away on his own. But the truth is, I know he would have eventually left the city. I mean, maybe he would have found a suburb instead of a whole different state, but I can definitely picture him as a small-town doctor, making a modest living and raising dogs and chickens.
“Congratulations, you two,” I say as I stand and walk around the table to give them both a hug. “How long before you move?”
“I’ve already left the hospital, and Brynn’s parents are sending us to Jamaica on a honeymoon. We’ll be back right before Thanksgiving and hope to be settled in by Christmas.”
Mother gasps. “The groom’s parents are supposed to pay for the honeymoon!” Okay, her son just told her he’s moving across the country in less than six weeks, and she’s fixating on the fact that she didn’t get to pay for the honeymoon? I mean, if she really wants to send one of her children to a tropical island paradise . . .
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