Chasing Manhattan

by John Gray

  Samuel took her hand back in his again. “What I mean is he’d say to me, ‘Samuel, I had next to nothing when she met me, and she loved me anyway. When I go to meet her in heaven, I want us to start the same way.’ So, he gave it all to charity.”

  “Everything?” Chase asked.

  Samuel nodded, “Well, almost. There is still the house in Westchester County. Some fancy cars and artwork. A few million dollars’ worth of stuff, I suspect. And in the end, that’s all it was to him, stuff. They’ll be auctioning it all off in a few weeks, with the money going to charity.”

  Chase was quiet a moment, thinking about everything she’d just heard, when Samuel concluded their conversation. “Do me this one favor. Whatever you write, understand Sebastian Winthrop cared about one thing, his Vida. Do you know why?”

  Chase looked Samuel in the eyes and said, “Because she was his world.”

  Samuel looked off at some pigeons who were waiting patiently for someone to toss them a snack and said, “Yes, she was, and I’ll tell you this. That man sat down with presidents, kings, celebrities, the pope even, but if you gave him his choice, he’d tell you every time, he’d rather be sitting here in Central Park with his Vida, watching happy people stroll by, or some street artist earning his keep, one dollar at a time.”

  Chase was looking down the cobblestone sidewalk at the row of vendors lined up, doing brisk business, as Samuel continued, “This park is where they met by chance a long time ago. One year later to the day they got engaged here. On the bridge over there, the Bow. In a world that always wanted something from them, this was their safe space where it was just them.”

  Chase sat silently, imagining this great American romance playing out right before her.

  Samuel then turned back to her and said, “Do you know what the word Vida means?”

  Chase shook her head no.

  Samuel finished, “Vida is a Spanish word. It means life. Vida was his life. That’s your story, Chase. A love story that still goes on to this day.”

  Chase thought a moment and asked, “You mean in heaven? Their love story.”

  Samuel smiled and said, “Yes, of course. Here and there.”

  Chase wasn’t sure what that meant, about here, since they both had passed, but the older man looked tired, so she stood up and took both his hands, helping him to his feet, and asked, “So, I’m okay writing about Central Park and the bridge and all that ooey gooey stuff?”

  Samuel motioned to Gavin that it was time for him to return to his lady, then answered, “Of course. That’s the reason I’m here. You be as ooey gooey as you want.”

  With that the fragile, well-dressed man adjusted his cap, and with carefully measured steps slowly disappeared into the Central Park crowd. Chase took hold of Gavin’s hand, glanced down at her fingers locked tightly around his, and said, “I need to get home to write a love story.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The Lonely Hearts Club

  Three weeks had passed since Chase met Samuel at the center of the Bow bridge and learned about the love between Sebastian and Vida Winthrop. Chase stayed up all night writing the story for the New Yorker, and Samuel was kind enough to send her an old photo of the couple to accompany it. The photograph was classic New York City, Sebastian and Vida dressed to the nines after a charity gala at the Waldorf Astoria; he in a tux and she in a shimmering silver gown. Vida never aged a moment in Sebastian’s eyes; his love froze her in time.

  As the two lovebirds climbed aboard a horse-drawn carriage, a photographer from the Daily News snapped a photo of them. When Sebastian saw it two days later in the style section of the newspaper, he purchased the print, had it professionally framed, and there it sat on an antique hutch in their country estate for the last twenty-two years.

  After Sebastian died, Samuel went through his personal things and took the photo, knowing his friend would want him to have it. It was that picture he gave Chase to use for her article, and now Vida and Sebastian were glowing with joy from every news stand in the city.

  When the New Yorker arrived, Chase’s eyes flew open with astonishment, as she said, “They gave me the cover?”

  Her friend Jennifer, handing her a stack of the magazines as keepsakes, responded with a smile, “You bet they did. I know it’s not a best-selling novel, but not bad, eh?”

  Chase gave her friend a hug, “Not bad indeed.”

  She paused a moment, thinking, then said, “We should celebrate with cappuccinos or something yummy. Want to go downstairs to the café? My treat.”

  It was early evening in Manhattan, and Gavin wasn’t expected until morning, so Chase and Jennifer found their way to the coffee shop below.

  As she came through the back door, her usual entrance, Oscar was taking the white dog named Ella outside on a leash for her evening walk and lesson in obedience.

  “Hey Oscar, who it turns out is not a grouch,” Chase yelled over to him with a wink in her eye.

  Oscar grinned back and said, “Hey, Chase, would love to talk but gotta earn my daily bread.”

  Chase looked at him, confused, and said, “I thought they weren’t paying you?”

  Oscar nodded, “True, not cash, but I take my payment in muffins and hard rolls.”

  As he vanished out the back door with the puppy, Chase heard a commotion of voices in the café, unusual for this time of day. It was coming from a small gathering of unfamiliar faces. A half dozen or so women, all in their early forties, were sitting with three tables pushed together in the corner, giving them some measure of privacy. She spied Raylan across the café, but his attention was clearly on the group of women, bringing them a tray of treats and a pitcher of iced tea.

  “Compliments of the house,” Raylan said to the women, displaying his gentleman’s charm.

  An attractive woman, wearing a baggy blue sweater and large hoop earrings, looked up from the group and said, “Thanks, Freddy.”

  Chase was confused why the woman called him that, watching on as Raylan smiled and replied, “Anything for you, Adele.”

  As he turned to go back to the counter, Raylan started singing a sappy love song from the famous singer Adele very dramatically, teasing the woman who just called him by the wrong name.

  The woman he called Adele made a face in response to his terrible singing voice, then called out, “Keep it up, smarty pants, keep it up.”

  Chase turned to Jennifer and said, “Would you excuse me for a minute?” as she darted across the café to Raylan.

  “Hey, smarty pants,” she began, clearly imitating the woman at the table. “Why did she call you Freddy?”

  Raylan, busy stacking cups behind the counter now, never made eye contact with Chase when he replied, “It’s just an inside joke.”

  Chase just stared, not understanding, prompting Raylan to explain further, “Freddy, as in Freddy Krueger, the Nightmare on Elm Street guy. You know, because of my face.”

  Chase was instantly fuming now, “She’s making fun of your scar? I have a good mind to go over and smack her in the head. See what she calls you then.”

  “Whoa, whoa, down, girl,” Raylan responded strongly, raising his hands up like someone surrendering to the police. “She’s kidding. We joke like that all the time. Jeez, relax.”

  Chase looked back at the women sitting together pouring the iced tea, then back at Raylan, calming down a bit, and asked, “She’s your friend?”

  “Yes, well, sort of. Her name is Bonnie and she’s part of the Lonely Hearts Club.”

  Chase looked over to her own friend, Jennifer from the magazine, and said, “Hey, Jen, this is going to be a minute, can you stay, or you need to run?”

  Her friend looked at her watch and said, “I probably should go. Raincheck on the drink?”

  Chase nodded yes and gave her a smile. “Definitely, hon. Bye.”

  Jennifer put the strap from her bag over her shoulder and started toward the café’s front door, shouting back, “Congrats again on the cover.”

  As the door c
losed behind her, Raylan realized that Chase was holding the new issue of the New Yorker in her hand and said, “Hey, they gave you the cover for your story—that’s great.”

  Chase looked down at the magazine and said, “Yes, thanks. Wait, go back. Bonnie? Didn’t I just hear you call her Adele? And the lonely what’s club?”

  “Hearts,” Raylan said.

  He then extended his hand to a chair at the nearby table and said, “Take a seat.”

  After the two sat, Raylan explained, “The first Tuesday evening of each month a book club comes in here to discuss the latest thing they’ve read. Since they love to read cheesy romance novels and most of them have had like ZERO luck in the love department, they call themselves the Lonely Hearts Club.”

  Chase looked over and realized each of them did have an identical-looking book in their hands, then back to Raylan asking, “And Adele, or Bonnie, what’s her deal?”

  Raylan leaned in whispering now, “She’s the ringleader and I love to tease her. I tell her she’s like a walking Adele song, all misery, no happy ending.”

  Chase nodded, sort of understanding. “And she reciprocates by calling you …”

  Raylan smiled now. “… Freddy. Yes, I know. Shocking, but it’s all in fun, Chase.”

  Chase considered a moment and said, “Well, I’m not so sure I like it.”

  Raylan took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze, saying, “That’s because we’re friends and you’re being protective. And you don’t see the scar like you used to because we’re friends.”

  Chase thought a moment and said, “I guess you’re right. If it’s all in good fun.”

  With that, Bonnie walked over and said, “Don’t mean to break up your conversation, but we need more iced tea, Raylan.”

  She then looked at Chase with kind eyes and said, “Hi, I’m Bonnie, or who smarty here calls Adele.” She extended her hand to shake Chase’s and it was clear now this woman wouldn’t harm a fly.

  “I’m Chase. Nice to meet you, Bonnie Adele.”

  The two giggled as Bonnie picked up the cloth Raylan used to wipe down tables and gave it a little snap at his backside. “Chop chop, male servant. Discussing literature is thirsty work.”

  There was something about the way Bonnie spoke to Raylan and the way he looked back that told Chase there might be something smoldering just beneath the surface between these two.

  Being a writer, she would make note of things and then tuck them away in a to be discussed later file in her mind.

  As Raylan got up to go, Chase said in a tender voice, “Hey Raylan, I have to tell you something.”

  There was silence now as Raylan waited for her to finish that thought. For some reason Chase was having trouble saying the words.

  Finally, Chase just said it. “You know I’m not staying here forever, right? Upstairs in the apartment.”

  His hazel eyes went sad for a moment, as he replied, “Sure, I know that. You said a year and a deal’s a deal, but I’m not kicking you out. If you want to leave this paradise …” He paused, now swallowing hard and looking down at his feet.

  Was he getting choked up? Chase thought silently, looking away so he wouldn’t feel embarrassed by her seeing it.

  Raylan continued. “I was saying, if you want to leave, that’s heavy lifting you’ll have to do on your own. I’m not tossing you out. As far as I’m concerned you can stay as long as you like. And Gavin is welcome to visit anytime.”

  As Raylan went back to work, Chase couldn’t deny the fondness she’d developed for this place and the people, especially Raylan.

  She felt herself getting a little emotional at the thought of leaving this safe space, so she stepped outside to grab the cool evening air.

  The Fur-Ever Java café was on York Avenue in Manhattan, positioned exactly in between 71st and 72nd street. As Chase stood out front, her eyes fell on the Sotheby’s Auction House located directly across the street. Whenever anyone had something of real value to sell, this was the place they brought it. On more than a few occasions Chase had watched workers with armed guards unloading crates from expensive-looking trucks and carrying them in. Normally she paid it no mind, but now she was staring at the Sotheby’s sign and remembering something she came across in her research on Sebastian Winthrop.

  He’d given most of his money away, but his country estate, some expensive jewelry, and a few priceless paintings were all to be sold at auction at Sotheby’s. Chase was looking at the building where the last remnants of a good man’s life would be sold off like cattle to strangers—people who didn’t know or care about this wonderful man and his bride, looking to cash in on his death. Chase understood that this is how some stories end, but there was something sullied about it just the same.

  Chase was wearing only a t-shirt top, so with the cold evening air making her shiver, she returned to the warm café. Before she turned to go, she saw two men on ladders hanging a long yellow banner with bright blue lettering across the front of Sotheby’s. It read, Auction Winthrop Collection – Saturday at Noon.

  “Saturday, huh?” Chase thought out loud. She stared at the banner for the longest time, and the strongest impulse suddenly stirred inside her.

  Chase had no earthly idea why, but deep in her bones she knew she needed to be at that auction. Perhaps to say goodbye to the man she had never met but now clearly admired. Or perhaps because something was about to happen at that auction that no one saw coming. Something that would get international headlines and change Chase’s life forever.

  CHAPTER 12

  You Shouldn’t Have Laughed

  Gavin arrived late Saturday morning with two homemade balsam fir wreaths bursting from his arms. There was no bow or other decoration on them, just the fresh pine tied together with wire, making them perfect in their simplicity. They smelled glorious too, having been cut and bundled not a dozen hours earlier on Gavin’s farm in Vermont.

  “Are you selling Christmas wreaths door to door now?” Raylan asked jokingly, as Gavin carried them into the café.

  “Ha, ha. Nope. My dad makes these and sells them back home for ten bucks. Even though the holidays are still a ways off, he was practicing his technique, so I grabbed a couple and thought you could hang one on your door.”

  Raylan grabbed one of the wreaths, then asked, “Will you and Chase even be around for Christmas this year? I figured a big shiny ring might be making an appearance soon and you two would be outta here.”

  Gavin responded firmly, “I’m working on that. Trust me.”

  “Good man,” Raylan said, as he held his fist out to give Gavin’s a bump, showing respect for the answer.

  In Raylan’s mind there was nothing worse than a guy leading a woman on and burning years of her life with a promise never fulfilled. He could see that was not Gavin.

  As Gavin turned to go upstairs, Matthew, Chase’s driver, came through the front door in a hurry with his phone in hand and a concerned look on his face. “Is she okay, Gavin?”

  Gavin just as quickly replied, “Yes, Why?”

  Matthew replied, “She sent me a text saying she had someplace important to go today but she didn’t need a ride. The last time she talked like this she was meeting a stranger on a bridge in the middle of the park.”

  Gavin took his own phone out and said, “You know, she sent me a weird text too. It said, ‘Make sure you bring nice pants and a shirt with a collar.’” He held up a small black bag that was slung over his shoulder, indicating he had indeed brought both.

  Raylan chimed in, “Sounds like you’re going someplace fancy, or at least a spot where a Guns and Roses t-shirt won’t do.”

  Matthew replied, “So, what’s going on?”

  Gavin said to Matthew, “Let’s go up and ask her together.”

  In that instant, Chase appeared from the side door of the café, smiling and saying, “Ask me what?”

  All three men turned their attention toward Chase, and not one of them could find the words. She looked stunning in a straple
ss red Halston cocktail dress that revealed her soft, smooth shoulders and was cut just above the knee. It was a dress that said flirty but taken to any wandering eye. Chase had found it in the Neiman Marcus store in a section of Manhattan they call Hudson Yards, her one big splurge with the money from her book sales.

  “Babe, you look …,” Gavin began, his eyes wide as dinner plates, staring at Chase as he did that first time he saw her years ago on a back country road in Vermont.

  Seeing Gavin was now speechless, Raylan slapped him on the back and said, “Great is the word he’s looking for.”

  Matthew looked at Chase like a daughter he was proud of, adding, “Amazing works too. You look amazing.”

  Chase blushed instantly and said, “Stop it, the three of you. I just wanted to make sure I looked appropriate.”

  “For what?” Gavin asked, as he set the wreath he was holding on a nearby table and made his way to take his lady’s hand.

  Chase realized in that moment she had never told any of them what was going on, so she blurted out, “An auction. The auction actually. For the Sebastian Winthrop estate.”

  Matthew nodded. “Yes, I read about that in the Post, lots of expensive stuff. That’s the guy you wrote about in the magazine, right?”

  Chase replied, “It is.”

  Gavin countered, “So that’s why I needed pants with a crease and a nice shirt; I’m coming with you?”

  Chase wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles through the t-shirt he was wearing, “I would never go without you,” she replied.

  Raylan then asked, “Are you planning to buy something?”

  Chase laughed, “Oh, yeah.” Then imitating a snooty, rich lady, Chase said, “My good fellow, I’d like to bid on that diamond necklace. How much is it, you say? A half million dollars. Sounds like a steal; I’ll take two.”

  Raylan smiled and said, “Yeah, yeah, I see your point.”

  Matthew interrupted, “So if you’re all dressed up, why don’t you want a ride to this auction? You can’t take the subway in that dress.”