by Lily Foster
I smiled back. “I think you’re about twenty-six. Am I close?”
“Better than close, you’re psychic.” He held up his right hand in a pledge. “I assure you I know my way around a hammer and nails.”
“I’m sure you do. Luke and Kate have sung your praises.” I immediately began thinking of single girls I knew. Jake was good-looking. Tall, brawny build, dark brown, nearly black hair, and bright blue, friendly eyes. Yum. I made a mental note to have Maureen, Rene’s roommate, swing by after work one night. Maybe I could do a little matchmaking.
One positive outcome of Dylan’s long business trips was the friendships I’d been developing with other women. I had plenty of nights to meet for drinks, see concerts, or just hang out. Darcy and I still managed to see each other a few times a month but now that she and Tom were back together, she was gone nearly every weekend and a good chunk of her time was devoted to Tom’s son, James. Through her, though, I’d met Rene, her roommate, Maureen, and of course, Caitlin. Caitlin was a great girl and whenever she was in from Chicago I’d get together with Darcy, Rene, Caitlin, and sometimes their other college roommate, Jenna. Those girls took me in as if I was one of their own. Rene, Maureen and I saw the most of one another, though, as we had started working out about three nights a week together.
After regaining my bearings, Jake helped me get the rest of my things into the apartment and then he set about visually inspecting the downstairs. I made a mental note that anyone who showed up ready to work before the sun rose was my kind of employee. I went down the block and grabbed us two coffees. I took cream and sugar on the side for Jake. “Thank you, Kasia.” He scrunched up his face then. “Would you rather I called you Ms. Mazur?”
“No,” I said, unable to stifle a laugh. “Kasia is fine. So you’re cream, no sugar?”
“Yes. And you, in case I’m running out for some?”
“The same. So, um, I have the plans in my car—”
“I’ve reviewed them already. Today I’m going to get a good idea of the structural elements and lay out a plan with a timeline. Tomorrow we start gutting. Are you going to be using the apartment upstairs?”
“Yes. That will be me my workspace. I’d like to be here so that I can oversee the work and be here to make decisions when you need my input.”
“That’ll be great. It cuts down on a lot of confusion and wasted time. I’d recommend that you don’t work up there for the next five days, though. The noise and the dust may be too much. And I’d be sure to wrap up your fabric samples; I’d hate for them to be ruined. I have some plastic sheeting in the truck. I’ll grab it now.”
“Thank you, Jake.” So far so good, I thought. Seems like a hardworker, thoughtful, and open to having my feedback on a regular basis.
Jake dropped off the plastic sheets and then he disappeared downstairs. I spent a few hours setting up the first floor apartment. I needed to clean the windows, replace light bulbs, hang blinds, and just make the space inhabitable. I spent an hour alone just cleaning out the old, musty refrigerator. At noon I was underneath the cabinets, wiping out every last speck of dust, when Jake called out to me. Startled, I smacked my head as I tried to extricate myself. “Sorry, Kasia!” he said as he rushed over to me.
“Wow, I’m quite the spaz today,” I said as I rubbed the back of my head.
“Um, I just wanted to let you know I’m heading back to the city now. Do you have a few minutes to go over the timeline for the work?”
“Yes, sure.”
As he looked around he said, “I’m impressed, Kasia. This place looks one hundred percent better than it did a few hours ago.”
“Thanks. I can’t work or cook in a space that isn’t spotless—my neurotic side.”
He looked around, again, worried. “I’ll have the guys come in and clean here after we gut downstairs. Believe it or not, the dust will travel up here.”
There was something so kind and thoughtful about this guy. I definitely had to set him up, I was thinking, but then the thought occurred to me that he was probably already attached. Guys who looked this good and behaved like him didn’t stay single for long. “Please don’t have them waste any time up here. I’ll take care of it.”
He then set out a spreadsheet detailing the work plans, estimating that he would be wrapping up in ten weeks.
“That would bring us to mid-February. Should I really plan on mid-March?”
He looked confused. “If I say ten weeks, it’s ten weeks.” Then he smiled. “I won’t bullshit you, Kasia.”
For some reason I sucked in a breath at those words. He reacted by apologizing, thinking maybe he’d been too forward with me. “I mean, I don’t give out false dates just to make you happy, to have you think I’ll be done earlier. I know a lot of contractors do that.”
“No, thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Ok, I’ll be going then. We start tomorrow, crack of dawn.” He smiled as he added, “Stop by as often as you like this week, Kasia. I’ll have a hard hat waiting for you.”
I forced myself to just nod politely and hold my smile in check. I didn’t want to have too easy and friendly a relationship with Jake, right? I had to maintain some sort of client-worker thing with him. He seemed like the kind of person I could easily become friends with and at that thought, I gave myself a warning: be careful, Kasia.
“Kasia, I have someone you need to call.”
“What’s up, Caitlin?”
“Where are you? I can barely hear you.”
“Hang on a sec.” I made my way up the subway stairs and tucked into a building vestibule off Union Square. “Hey, better now? I was just getting off the train.”
“Sounds so romantic…I think New York is where I’m meant to be,” she said, wistfully.
“Yes! We’re all plotting to get you here after you finish school.”
“School, schmool. I’m learning more on my own than I am listening to those stuffy professors. Which is why I’m calling. I’ve gotten orders on your items and, as you asked, I posted a three week back-order. You need to expand. People want items immediately, Kasia. With some buyers the custom marketing strategy-thing makes them feel they’re getting something exclusive but most shoppers want it, like, yesterday. I just texted you the number of a guy, Brian Fash. Meet with him. Other designers swear by the guy to help them set up their manufacturing operations.”
“I know I need to do this but I just hired two employees and I feel like—”
“—like you’re jumping off a cliff. I know, been there. You’re incorporated, though. You won’t lose your shirt, your life savings; you’re protected. You need to make the leap, Kasia. I’ll be there with moral support, advice…anything you need.”
“I’m calling him now. Thanks, Caitlin. Oh, almost forgot! When are you in town? The contractor working on my store is awesome. I’m thinking of him for either Maureen or you.”
“Don’t introduce him to that bitch, Kasia!” Caitlin was one of my new favorite people in the world. The girl just made me laugh. “I want a description of this guy.”
“His name’s Jake.”
“Good; hot name.”
“He’s very good looking, kind, polite.”
“How’s he hung?”
“What?! How the hell would I know?”
“What, you haven’t snuck a glance in that general direction?”
“No!” My cheeks had to be bright red.
“Take it easy, Kasia. That’s generally the second place I look—face, then junk.”
“I think maybe you’ll be too much for him to handle. Maureen might get first dibs on Jake after all.”
“I’ll be there for New Years. I’m staying with Rene and Caleb. Don’t you go introducing him to Maureen before then!”
“I’ll see,” I giggled. “I can’t make any promises. I’ll call you after I speak to Fash.”
“Good luck, Kasia.”
Jake and his crew had been here for three weeks. It was amazing how much the space had been t
ransformed in just that time. Luke and Kate had been here twice to check in but they really didn’t need to be supervising Jake. You could tell he knew his stuff and he led his workers in a commanding but respectful manner. Luke and Kate were relieved that I was happy with his work so far, as they were up to their ears in their own projects.
For me, everything seemed to be happening at warp speed. Dylan was a great support, albeit from afar, but he talked me down from a few panic attacks as my plans with Brian Fash progressed and I was on the verge of having my designs manufactured and marketed on a grander scale.
The plan was to launch a spring/summer collection in late February, with greater marketing presence and, hopefully, the retail store up and running. I was working non-stop. Dylan made plans to whisk me away for three days after Christmas. I was looking forward to it. When Dylan suggested it, he was sensitive to what was going on in my life. “Just three days, Kasia. I know anything more will be too stressful for you. You do need to be there, to supervise. I just don’t want you to burn out. Three days where you’re lying in the sun and relaxing will recharge your batteries. And I miss you. I need this too.”
Dylan had been working like a madman himself. Sometimes I asked him how he could keep up the pace, even though I was going on as few hours’ sleep as he was.
Lately, Dylan’s job brought him to Chicago more than half the month and we had been seeing less and less of one another. We spoke everyday but there were times when I felt his absence painfully and I wondered if we would ever be in the same place at the same time. I kept telling myself this was temporary. Once I was established, life would return to a more normal pace. He believed that too.
Dylan
Everyone clinked glasses in response to the toast my father made, congratulating all of us on the hard work we were doing to fend off the strike. Things had been tense the past month but we were making positive strides and it looked as if the strike would be averted. The negotiations had garnered national attention in the financials and on the local level, the governor and mayor had been involved. I knew my father was pleased with the way I’d handled myself in negotiations and in the interviews I’d granted.
Tonight, six of us were out to dinner, a Christmas gathering for what my father referred to his A-Team in Chicago. I’d gotten to know these people very well, as I’d spent the majority of October, November, and December in Chicago, rather than in New York. It was like being thrown into a foxhole with them. Over the long days that went into nights, you wound up knowing about everyone’s personal shit: families, spouse troubles, whatever. The only person who didn’t share was me. I just listened. I’d been so busy that I really didn’t have time to dwell on a daily basis about how Kasia and I were changing but I would think about it when I heard Mike, for example, lament about how his wife complained incessantly or when Gwen and I were alone and she’d muse about how her husband was a clueless jerk. “Why did you marry him?”
“I love him, Cole.” She didn’t call me Dylan and I didn’t want her to. “I love our life, I guess? He’s just starting to pressure me. He’s doing well at work and he’s asking when I’m going to be ready for the ‘next step’, you know?”
“Kids?”
“Kids, suburbs, me leaving work…”
“Are you ready for that?”
She looked at me as if I was high. “I never want that. I’m not like other women…but I guess you already figured that out,” she said as she made her way closer to me and loosened my tie. She sat in my lap. “I want this. I want power, control. I like who I am at work. I’m good at it.”
“You are, Gwen.”
She looked sullen. “It’s not appreciated when you’re a woman. God, Paul’s mother is relentless asking about grandchildren. I’m either going to suppress everything I am or I’m going to wind up divorcing him.”
I didn’t say a word but I was getting uncomfortable with how much she was sharing. I didn’t want to know all this, did I?
“How about you, Cole, do you want children?”
“Yes, without a doubt. I guess it’s easier for men, though, right? No one expects us to slow down, to quit doing what we love.”
She was unbuttoning my shirt. The guilt didn’t even register anymore. This was like second nature by now, almost as routine as brushing my teeth. I lifted her up and led her over to the couch. I didn’t even bother locking the door. Mrs. Wilde knew exactly what we were doing and the building would have to have been on fire for her to interrupt us.
I had no feelings for Gwen beyond professional respect for her. Gwen never gave me the vibe that she was looking for more either. The second she did, this would be over and she knew it. Kasia had only been here once since the October visit and that time she never even made it to the office. Keeping my two worlds separate wasn’t even that much of an effort.
Kasia was running twenty-four-seven lately. I was proud of her and happy she was taking the next steps to expand the business. I knew the kind of pressure that it entailed and I was amazed by her ability to handle it. There was that recurring, nagging desire I had, though, for her time, for her support. I couldn’t have it. We were equals.
That was great…and it wasn’t.
I was going to ask Mrs. Wilde to shop for Kasia’s Christmas gift but I didn’t want her to have an even lower opinion of me than I’m sure she already had. The day before I was flying back I ran out at lunch and hit the first jewelry store I came across on Michigan Avenue. I ran smack into Cecilia Tate. “Merry Christmas, Dylan!”
“Cecilia, it’s good to see you. How do like Chicago?”
“Ok, I guess. School is good, I’ve met a few people but it’s a little lonely, to be honest. I find myself flying back east whenever I have the chance.”
“I’m so swamped when I’m here that it could be any city, as far as I’m concerned. I barely get out of the office.”
“I know,” she said with a slightly disappointed tone, “Melanie gives me updates.”
“Are you heading down to Palm Beach for New Years?”
“Of course, are you?”
“Not this year. My parents are going but I’m taking a quick trip with Kasia and then I’ll be back out here.”
“How is she?”
“She’s great,” my tone sounded overly chipper, phony, I realized. “She’s crazy busy too. Her business is really starting to take off.”
“I’m happy for her. She seems like a really good person, Dylan.”
I always liked that about Cecilia; she didn’t seem to have that bitchy, competitive thing going like all the other girls she hung out with. “She is, Cecilia. But it’s tough. I mean, I barely get to see her anymore.” That just seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Do you have time for a quick drink? I mean, I have to find something for my mother first,” she laughed, “but the Ritz-Carlton is right next door.”
“Sure. I left shopping to the last minute too. I have to get something for Kasia.”
“I’m impressed you just didn’t have your assistant buy it. I don’t think my father has ever actually shopped for my mother.”
I settled on a pair of diamond-stud earrings that I realized, afterwards, Kasia would think were too large, too ostentatious. This was so different from last year. Last year I was excited to buy her gift and shopped with so much thought and concern. This year I was going for speed and efficiency; throwing money around in the hopes that it would make up for the lack of effort I was giving this.
Cecilia and I spent an hour together, catching up. I made sure to zip my lip about Kasia for the rest of the afternoon. It wasn’t like me to voice my fears like that. She didn’t fish for information and I was grateful for it. When we were getting up to leave she said, “Thanks, Dylan. It was nice spending time with an old friend. I have a date tonight and I’m already dreading it. That whole ‘getting to know you’ routine is just so tired. I like when people already know my story.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?” She rolled her eyes in response to th
e compliment. “What, Cecilia? Any guy would consider himself lucky to have you on his arm.”
She lowered her eyes as she said, “That’s my problem, Dylan. I don’t want just any guy, you know?”
She turned and got her coat and I stood up to put it on her. I knew what she was saying, the meaning behind her words. I had nothing to say in reply. As I slid the coat up onto her shoulders, I kissed her cheek. “It was good to see you, Cecilia.”
“Bye, Dylan.”
Kasia
What do you get the man that has everything?
There’s nothing he needs so you have to get him something he wants.
This was too hard. I was standing in the middle of Bergdorf’s, looking around the men’s department. Nothing was right. Dylan had more watches than he could loop around both arms from wrist to shoulder. He didn’t need a wallet, an electronic gadget or cologne. I was near tears after wandering around aimlessly for half an hour. The tears were threatening because, in those minutes, I realized that I didn’t know what Dylan wanted anymore.
As I sat on my bed that night, wrapping presents for my nieces, nephews, aunts, parents, brothers—yes, I’d managed to get meaningful, perfect gifts for everyone else in my life—I couldn’t shake this bad feeling.
Dylan was, at that very moment, on a plane heading back to New York. I would see him tomorrow night after work. He was meeting me at my store and I was excited to show him how much progress they’d made. Then he was coming home with me and having dinner with my family. I wouldn’t be able to really see him until the next day, when I was planning to spend all day at his apartment.
One day to relax together before Christmas Eve. This year was like the last; he would spend Christmas Eve at my house and then I was heading up to Connecticut to have dinner with Coles on Christmas Day.
I had gotten tickets to the American Ballet Theater for his parents. I’d overheard Mrs. Cole talking about studying ballet as a child, so I hoped that she loved the gift. Why, oh why couldn’t I come up with anything for Dylan? I was so damn frustrated I could scream.