‘Get you, Ms Fancypants.’
‘How was everything here when I left, anyway?’
A strange flicker passed across her best friend’s expression. ‘Funny you should ask. I had a visit from a very interesting stranger.’
‘Oh?’
Russ folded his arms. ‘Looking for you.’
Everything seemed to freeze around Bea as she stared at him. ‘Did they say why?’
Russ couldn’t have looked any more accusatory if he was wearing a barrister’s wig and gown. ‘He said he met you a while ago and promised to look you up again.’
Bea felt giddy. ‘I see.’
‘He left a note.’ Russ held up a business card, but as Bea reached for it he pulled it back, evading her grasp. ‘So when were you planning on telling me about him, hmm?’
Bea was mystified. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Obviously you met the guy and told him where to find you, which in my book constitutes a desire on your part to see him again.’
Embarrassed and feeling vulnerable, Bea glared at him. ‘First of all, I haven’t told anyone “where to find me”. I’ve met a lot of interesting people lately; it could be any one of them. What’s with your attitude, anyway?’
‘I just thought you and Otis were working things out, that’s all. Seems a little sudden to be finding a replacement, don’t you think?’
‘We broke up, Russ! We’re not working anything out. I told him I didn’t want a relationship with him and I meant it. I don’t want a relationship with anybody, not that it’s any of your business.’
‘He’s my friend, Bea. If you’re playing him, I owe it to him to say so.’
This was the final straw. ‘And what about what you owe to me? I’ve been your friend for years: does that count for nothing? Otis and I are over. And whether you agree with me or not, that’s the way it is. Now hand over the card, please.’
Russ was clearly rattled by Bea’s outburst, but gave the card to her. ‘For the record, I’d just like you to know that I’m not your personal answering service, OK? And if you intend on telling any other strange men where you work, I’d appreciate a heads-up. So I can arrange to be out when they arrive.’ He picked up a stack of books and stomped away from the counter.
Trembling with anger, Bea stared at the card.
Dr Jake Steinmann MD, PhD, EdD, APA
Suite 7, McKevitt Buildings, Broadway, NY
The name screamed out at her, knocking the wind from her stomach.
Jake – was here in my store? How was that even possible? But Dr Jake? Bea stared at the list of qualifications after the name. Jake wasn’t a doctor, he was a barman – wasn’t he? She tried to remember if he had either confirmed this as his profession or hinted that serving drinks wasn’t his career at all during the party. But he hadn’t said anything: of that she was certain.
Confused, she turned the card over and her heart jumped as she saw Jake’s message:
Hi Bea,
Remember The Pact? From the party? We shook on it but I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’m sorry. I’d like to discuss our list of Pact benefits further, if you’d like to? My number’s on this card, if you do.
Jake
It was definitely him. Bea’s heart thudded loudly in her ears as she reread the message. She couldn’t work out how Jake had found her – or quite comprehend that, at the same time she had been telling Rosie about him, he had been standing here, asking about her. Maybe Grandma Dot was right: maybe they were destined to be friends …
‘Are you calling him?’ Russ asked, arriving back.
Her defences rising immediately, Bea snatched the card from his view. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘He wants to discuss your “Pact”, whatever that is. Yes, I read the message. What, you think I wouldn’t?’
‘Leave it, Russ.’
‘Just what did you agree with this guy you’d only just met? Does Otis know about it? No, I didn’t think so. Think about what you’re doing, Bea! You’re doing exactly what you’ve always done: go rushing out after the end of one relationship straight into another. And who will pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong? Me.’
Bea couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘Well thanks for the vote of confidence.’
‘I know you, Bea! This is what you do …’
‘You know nothing!’ Bea countered. ‘I haven’t gone looking for another relationship because I don’t want another relationship.’
‘The guy didn’t get your memo,’ Russ returned, stabbing his finger towards the card in Bea’s hand. ‘He seemed very interested in you.’
‘As. A. Friend!’
‘So you say. Are you going to call him?’
Bea was filled with an intense desire to be rid of this conversation, hurt by her friend’s accusations and confused about Jake’s sudden initiative in trying to find her. Not wanting to prolong the argument, she opened a drawer in the counter and flung the card inside, slamming it shut. ‘No, I’m not. Satisfied?’
‘But he came looking for you. What if he returns?’
‘Then I’ll deal with it.’
‘Bea …’
‘I have work to do.’ Without giving Russ a second look, she hurried to the office and kicked the door shut.
This is all too much, too soon, she decided. I don’t need the hassle: not from Russ and certainly not from Jake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jake’s apartment, 826B Jefferson Street, Williamsburg
Dear Dr Steinmann,
Thank you for returning the documents pertaining to your divorce from my client, Mrs Jessica Steinmann. I am writing to inform you of the next steps of the process.
At my client’s request I am writing to ask you to provide, through your legal counsel, full financial information regarding the joint assets accrued during the time of your marriage. This is in order to begin negotiations regarding the acceptable split of assets. My client is keen to expedite this as soon as possible. I am sure you will understand her desire to complete proceedings without delay.
I look forward to hearing from your legal counsel.
Yours sincerely,
Don Sheehan
Jake had put off opening the latest letter from Jessica’s lawyer for days, but decided to bite the bullet on Sunday morning when he returned from buying coffee and bagels for breakfast. Even as he stood in line at the small neighbourhood coffee shop beneath his apartment building, Jake had been dreading what he might find in the innocuous brown envelope waiting for him at home. His worst fears were justified when he read it: Jess wanted to settle the divorce as soon as possible.
He didn’t care about the material things. She could have the house and the Jeep they had bought together for weekends at Half Moon Bay. All the possessions he cared about he’d packed into the removal truck before leaving for New York. He had his Bob Dylan albums, medical books and prize comic book collection; beyond that he didn’t much care for anything else. The other stuff was too bound up with memories of Jess: he couldn’t hope to move on if he were surrounded by pieces of their shattered life together.
But the clipped practicality of the lawyer’s letter made the divorce into little more than a necessary procedure – as mundane and meaningless as a tooth filling or a wart removal. No emotion, no acknowledgement of years and dreams invested in a marriage Jake thought would last forever: just a dismissive nod to nearly ten years of his life invested in an ultimately doomed venture of the heart.
What made it worse – much as he hated to admit it – was that he’d had no word from Bea. It had been a few days since he left the message he now couldn’t bear to think of on his business card. Had her achingly cool colleague not passed it on? Or had Bea taken one look at it and thrown it in the trash?
She wasn’t the answer to his future happiness: of that much he was already certain. But he had hoped that it might be an interesting, positive aspect of his new life in New York, that maybe a new friendship, on his own terms, migh
t offer an escape from the Damoclean sword his divorce felt like over him. Of course, it was unrealistic to expect a woman he’d only ever had one conversation with to firstly remember who the hell he was and, secondly, be keen to become a friend.
He knew he was feeling sorry for himself: had he been hearing the thoughts in his head coming from a client he would have advised them to deal with their emotions and move on. It was a classic case of ‘physician, heal thyself’, but he was tired of trying to rationalise his feelings. So he allowed himself to wallow. With nobody to witness it or try to remedy the situation, this was something he could indulge in for a while.
His appetite had been quashed by the contents of the letter, so the bag of still warm bagels lay untouched on the kitchen counter. Retreating to the comfort of his old leather armchair he had bought at the Brooklyn Flea market years before Jess arrived in his life, he nursed his extra-large coffee and stared out at the Williamsburg rooftops beyond the window.
When the door intercom buzzed, Jake jumped awake. Checking his watch as he stood up, he realised he had been asleep for almost an hour.
‘Hello?’
‘Jake-e-ey! Let me in, will ya?’
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Jake pressed the door entry button, trying to ignore the dragging nausea in his stomach. He was happy to see Ed, but his rude awakening coupled with the dark cloud over him today made him dread the prospect of a brotherly chat. He unlatched the door and slowly walked back to his chair, downing the last of his stone-cold coffee to try to wake himself up.
Moments later, Ed bounded into the apartment, as effortlessly messy as always – the ‘just-got-out-of-bed’ look suited him where on others it would look untidy.
‘Hangover?’ he grinned, when he saw Jake’s face.
‘I wish.’
‘Good job I brought coffee, then. And bagels – oh.’ Seeing the unopened bag on the kitchen counter, Ed shrugged and added the brown paper bag in his hands to the collection. ‘Ah well. Great minds, bro.’
Despite consuming enough coffee this morning to wake the dead, Jake gratefully accepted the new cup from Ed, enjoying the scent and the heat of it in his hands. ‘Thanks, man.’
‘You look like hell.’
‘Once again, thanks.’
Ed’s eyes fell on the lawyer’s letter, which had dropped to the floor at Jake’s feet. ‘Ah, I see the Devil’s been in touch.’
‘Part of the necessary process, apparently. Go ahead – read it. It’s so damned impersonal it could refer to anything.’
Ed scooped up the letter and scanned its contents. ‘Whoa. They don’t pull any punches, do they?’
Jake rested back in his chair. ‘Lawyers never do. Hers is the worst kind, too. He represented her last year when one of her former employees accused her of unfair dismissal. Don Sheehan annihilated the guy. He’s a professional piranha and he won’t stop until he wins.’ He glared at his coffee cup, picturing the sickly, insincere smile of his wife’s attorney. ‘In that respect he and Jess are well suited.’
Ed pulled up a chair from the dining table and faced Jake. ‘Perhaps she just wants it all done quickly to let you move on,’ he suggested. ‘I can’t believe Jess means any of this personally.’
The sentiment was intended well but lit the blue touch-paper of Jake’s anger. ‘Oh, sure. I guess when she decided to quit our marriage she was only thinking of my wellbeing.’
‘Dude, that’s not what I meant …’
‘And, hey – maybe she decided she wants pretty much everything we have in order to make my life simpler, huh?’
Ed held his hands in surrender. ‘OK, OK, forget I said anything.’
Jake relented. This wasn’t his brother’s problem and he had no right to make it so. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just so over this whole thing.’
‘Understandably. But –’ Ed’s grin returned as he produced a small white card from the pocket of his brown leather jacket ‘– this might help.’
‘What is it?’
‘A business card.’
Jake rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘I can see that. Whose card is it?’
Ed wiggled the card just out of Jake’s reach. ‘A certain redheaded beauty you might remember from a party you tended the bar at.’
Had it not been for Jake’s current state of mind, he would have jumped from his chair and snatched it right away. But as it was, his confusion caused by this sudden turn of events kept him seated. How had Ed managed to get Bea’s business card? And if she was so keen to see him again, why hadn’t she called? ‘Where did you get it?’ he asked, carefully.
‘She brought it to us,’ Ed exclaimed, almost bouncing off his seat with excitement. ‘Well, to Rosie, to be exact. They met at Celia’s book launch and seem to have bonded as ex-pat Brits.’ He shook his head. ‘Trust Rosie to find the only other Brit at the party. Apparently, Bea mentioned you. She thought you were a barman, by the way.’
Jake’s head reverberated with all the information forced upon it today. First, Bea hadn’t called, then Jessica’s sleazy lawyer had shouted his demands, and now Ed had Bea’s business card. What did it all mean and, more than that, what was he supposed to do about any of it?
‘Wait a minute: when did she bring it to you?’
‘On Thursday afternoon. Rosie invited her to come visit us; the next day, Rosie got a call from Bea and she came over. And mentioned you.’
Jake stared at Ed, the pieces of the past few days clicking into place. ‘Thursday afternoon? But that’s when—’
‘When I called you and you high-tailed it across the city to find her,’ Ed confirmed. ‘How “kismet” is that?’
‘So –’ the information was slowly filtering through Jake’s neural pathways ‘– when the guy at the bookstore said she had the afternoon off, she was at your store?’
‘Mm-hmm. I’m telling you, Jakey, the women in New York City can smell a newly single guy from miles away. You think being separated is a burden; trust me, bro, to single women in this city it’s like nectar.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Think of it this way: you had a woman you never met before going to great lengths to get in contact with you, after only one drunken conversation. Most guys would commit a felony to get that kind of reaction! I see this as the start of your rebirth, man; the reincarnation of Jacob Steinmann!’
‘For the last time, I don’t want another relationship! It’s – interesting – that’s all.’ Jake took the card from his brother and stared at it. ‘All the same, I wonder why didn’t she call me?’
Ed shrugged. ‘Woman’s prerogative?’
Jake shook his head. ‘I’m not ready for this.’
‘Ready for what? For starting to live your life again?’
‘No, this – the uncertainty, the second-guessing. That wasn’t why I wanted to see her again.’
Ed raised an eyebrow. ‘It wasn’t?’
‘No. I just liked talking with her. She doesn’t want a relationship any more than I do, and that was – refreshing. I thought if I met her again I could put her out of my mind. Maybe she thought the same about me. Which is why she hasn’t called.’
‘Shouldn’t you call her?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Jake stared at Ed. ‘Because it has to be her decision. I don’t want to force my friendship on anybody.’
Ed groaned. ‘You’re impossible. And wrong. But it’s your life.’
‘It is.’ Ed’s tone irritated Jake, much like everything else had done today. Not wanting to fight with his brother, he firmly changed the subject. ‘Do you feel like finding lunch somewhere? I want to get out of here for a couple of hours.’
Ed’s relief was palpable, never being a great fan of confrontation himself. ‘That’s the best idea you’ve had today. And I’ll quit bugging you about the girl, OK?’
Jake smiled at his brother. ‘Now, that’s the best idea you’ve had.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hudson Ri
ver Books, 8th Avenue, Brooklyn
‘Bea. You have a parcel.’ Russ appeared from the bookstore office waving a small package wrapped in brown paper.
Chalking up a blackboard for the children’s section with details of a storyteller’s visit, Bea didn’t turn to see what it was. ‘We get parcels every day. It’s probably a sample book from a publisher. Just leave it on the desk and I’ll deal with it later.’
‘Well, I would, but somehow I don’t think this is a promotional package. It has cartoon mice all over it.’
Bea’s heart did a flip and she put the blackboard down immediately, brushing chalk dust from her hands as she hurried over to Russ. ‘I’ll take that, thanks.’ Seeing her business partner’s expression she grinned. ‘As you were.’
Denied the details he was craving, Russ glared at her. ‘This is from that guy, isn’t it? The one with the personal message business cards and bad suit.’
‘No, actually. It’s from someone you don’t know.’ Determined to leave Russ hanging, Bea hurried into the bookstore office and closed the door. The jaunty little mice, drawn in black ink with tiny pink dots in their ears and the tips of their noses came straight from her childhood memories. They were looking up to, parachuting beside, and hanging off, a hand-drawn label on which Bea’s name and the bookstore’s address had been written in a beautifully ornate hand. Instinctively, Bea raised the package to her nose and inhaled deeply. There it was: the faintest scent of violets …
From as far back she could remember, Bea had received surprise parcels from her grandparents. Grandpa George would choose a gift – always a book – and Grandma Dot would wrap it, decorating the brown paper packaging with tiny drawings of mice. The parcels would arrive at odd times during the year, without warning. Sometimes the books would come from the places around the UK where they holidayed, such as the small bookshop in St Ives, a place much beloved by her grandparents. Or sometimes, Grandma Dot would find books in her own shop to send. Both Stewart and Bea received the parcels, but for Bea they helped to fuel her ambition of one day running a bookshop like her grandparents did.
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