I’ll Take New York

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Private loft apartment, Upper West Side

Bea couldn’t believe it. Was there really someone else in New York who thought relationships were a waste of time? She could feel the edges of her consciousness beginning to blur and resolved to drink slower. The barman’s confession intrigued her and she wanted to know more. There was honesty in his startling blue eyes that seemed to draw her in …

‘I’m Bea. Thanks for the wine.’

‘You’re welcome.’

They looked at each other for a while, the sounds of the party around them filling the air. For the first time that evening, Bea felt understood by someone else. Russ had done his best to sympathise with her, but beneath his kind words and pep talks lay the unmistakable desire to see her reunited with Otis. Celia and Stewart had listened, but they couldn’t mask their ultimate aim to see her as happily coupled-up as they were. Even her mum, speaking soothing words from the bumpy freeway as her dad drove their rented Winnebago across the United States, clearly thought her daughter just needed time before she found the man of her dreams. When it came down to it, nobody had tried to see it from Bea’s point of view. Until now …

Sure, he was a random barman in a party neither of them wanted to be at, but at least one person in the whole of New York City understood. And right now, that seemed to Bea like the most precious discovery.

‘So – how do you know?’ Bea asked, before she could think better of it, quickly adding, ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’ when she saw the slight droop of his shoulders.

‘About relationships? Because I received divorce papers this week.’

Instantly, Bea felt awful. Choosing to walk away from a relationship was one thing; having the decision made for you was something else. ‘Gosh – I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked …’

‘No, you should. It’s OK. Pretty much everyone else here knows already, so there’s no reason why you should escape the bulletin.’

‘That’s awful.’ Bea wished the floor would open and swallow her up. Her one interesting acquaintance in the room was now smiling so sadly at her that she felt like she’d just kicked a puppy.

‘Yours isn’t divorce, then?’ The joke was clearly intended to make her feel better and Bea appreciated it.

‘We didn’t make it as far as marriage,’ she smiled, finding the act of sharing such personal information with a relative stranger surprisingly liberating. ‘And I called it in the end.’

‘How long?’

‘Five years.’

Jake shook his head. ‘That’s tough. My marriage was seven, with three years before.’

‘Wow.’

‘I know.’

‘I probably should be sitting at home tonight, wishing for him back. But actually, I don’t want him back. Not like we were. It’s taken me standing in a room full of couples I don’t know and toasting a happy couple I don’t know either to discover that. The more I think about it, the more I think relationships and me are incompatible.’ She checked that Jake was still smiling at her. He was. At least that was something. ‘It might sound strange, but the thought of not being in a relationship isn’t scary to me any more. I have so much in my life that’s already working: why focus on an aspect that just makes me unhappy?’

‘I hear you. I’m sick of trying to explain that to people. Truth is, I don’t think I want another relationship.’

‘Me either!’

‘I mean, when the one you think was The One turns out not to be, what hope is there, huh?’

He had a nice laugh, Bea thought. Maybe it was the wine, but the more she talked to the barman, the happier she felt. ‘I am so glad I met you tonight, Jake. I was beginning to think I was losing my mind.’

‘When, instead, we are probably the only two sane individuals in the room tonight.’

‘In the Upper West Side!’

‘In the whole of New York!’

Bea’s heart was racing. ‘People are so dead set on finding someone else to share their lives with. But they forget there are so many things you can do when you’re single that you can’t do when you’re in a relationship. Like assuming the sole use of the remote control.’

Jake chuckled. ‘Amen, sister. Or heading out for dinner on a whim without having to check schedules …’

‘Going to the cinema by yourself and eating all the popcorn – I love that.’

‘Or reading the Sunday paper all day without interruption.’

‘Only going shopping when you feel like it – and never having to feel guilty about dragging someone else along.’

‘Long baths on a weeknight listening to Lou Reed …’

‘Watching five episodes of a box-set in one go …’

‘Setting out from your apartment on a Saturday morning and wandering wherever you want to.’

‘I love that! I haven’t done that for years.’

‘Me either. Know what, Bea?’

‘What?’

‘We should start again.’

Bea smiled, despite the blush she knew was now spreading across her cheeks. ‘We should.’

‘Because we live in the best city on earth,’ Jake said. ‘Why wouldn’t we want to explore it?’

‘Exactly. I love this city.’ Bea turned to the stunning night view from the tall window. ‘Look at that: isn’t it the most amazing view?’

‘It is. There’s a big city out there, just waiting for us.’

‘And we’ve wasted too much time being trapped by someone else already.’

Jake nodded, an unmistakable fondness in his expression. Bea recognised it instantly because it was how she felt. ‘Gotta love this city.’

‘Absolutely.’ Her earlier consternation forgotten, Bea looked back at her surprise ally. ‘I’m really glad I met you this evening.’

‘Me too. It’s refreshing to find someone else who understands where I’m coming from.’

Jake offered the bottle to Bea, but she declined, enjoying the conversation far too much to be distracted by any more alcohol.

Snapping his fingers, Jake grinned at her. ‘Hey, you and I should make a pact.’

‘What kind of pact?’

An impish twinkle danced in his eyes. ‘That we will never get involved with anyone, ever again.’

A few days ago, this suggestion would have horrified Bea. But after all she had experienced tonight – and the enjoyable conversation she was having with the barman – Bea was keen to agree. ‘Absolutely. I’m done with relationships.’

‘OK, here it is: we solemnly swear that no matter what, we will avoid relationships. That we are through trying to find true love. From now on, it’s about us, celebrating the parts of our lives that work and not obsessing over those that don’t. We will be successful, happy, self-fulfilled individuals, who don’t place responsibility on anyone else for our happiness. Nobody writes the book of our lives but us.’

Bea loved that idea. So often in her life she had felt at the mercy of unseen scriptwriters who blindly dictated the ebb and flow of her happiness. The only author of Bea James’ life story should be herself. ‘That’s brilliant.’

‘Then are you willing to agree to The Pact?’

She grinned at the audacity of it. ‘Yes, I am.’

He held out his little finger. ‘Then we must solemnly seal it. With a pinky shake.’

‘A what?’

He couldn’t hide his amusement. ‘Trust me. This is the only way.’

Giggling, Bea locked her little finger with his. ‘I hereby agree to The Pact.’

‘No more relationships for Jake and Bea.’

‘No more relationships for us.’

It was a beautiful moment: an unexpected gift of understanding between two people who barely knew each other. It felt deeper than the light-hearted banter of strangers and significant in a way that surprised them both. It was the end of a struggle and the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. And, with her finger locked with Jake’s, Bea suddenly didn’t feel alone any more …

Much later that evening, watching the lights of the city passing by the taxi window, Bea was lost in her thoughts. Celia and Stewart had waved her off, reasoning that her quietness was due to fatigue and maybe a little too much wine. Bea barely said two words as the cab pulled away, waving absent-mindedly as she tried to work out how she was feeling.

She should have felt elated by the twist the evening’s events had taken. She should have felt justified in her new decision to live life for herself. But beneath the glow of an evening unexpectedly well spent, a gaping hollowness refused to be filled by any of the above. Why did she feel like she’d missed something?

Should she have asked for his number? It would have been nice to have a friend in New York who didn’t have an ulterior motive for pairing her up with someone.

But then, Bea told herself, maybe Jake was being polite. He was serving at the bar at a private party, for goodness’ sake; it was his job to entertain the guests. She didn’t doubt that he had enjoyed talking to her, but what if that came from a longing to make his work shift pass more quickly? It was entirely possible. And why did it matter, anyway?

Of course it doesn’t matter, she told herself. It was a bad night made better by a barman with a crazy pact. One of Manhattan’s unexpected surprises. And it was over now.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Vacant office suite, McKevitt Buildings, Broadway

‘I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s a great property,’ the real estate agent nodded encouragingly at Jake. ‘Competitive rates, excellent square-footage, close proximity to the better business areas of the city and the scope for a wide catchment area for your practice.’

‘Great …’ Jake replied, but he wasn’t really listening. He was still smiling from the conversation he’d enjoyed last night. This pact idea had legs: and finding the right premises for his business was the perfect place to start.

‘But please, don’t take my word for it,’ the over-eager agent rushed, ‘let me show you around and I assure you the property will speak for itself.’

Jake followed the agent around the empty office space, barely noticing the freshly painted walls and brand new carpet at his feet. It was light and airy, in the right location and with more than enough scope for his practice to expand in time – but he had made all of these observations within minutes of arriving and now his brain could focus on other things. As the agent eulogised the benefits of the building, Jake’s thoughts returned again to last night.

Why didn’t I ask for her number?

He had seen her wave goodbye as a man he presumed was her brother hurried her out of the apartment, so at least he knew she hadn’t fled the moment she’d had the chance. But in the cold light of day, was her participation in their conversation little more than classic British politeness? She was alone at the party and so was he: she was also a little worse for wear from champagne and wine and he had drunk more bourbon than he’d intended. Was it simply a case of shared experience to get through an otherwise excruciatingly embarrassing event?

‘Dr Steinmann?’

Jake stared dumbly at the real estate agent. ‘What?’

‘I said, staff. Will you be having any?’

‘Yes. I’ll start recruiting as soon as I secure premises.’ The thought of finding an assistant even half as competent as the wonderful Pam Lomas he had left back in San Francisco filled Jake with dread. Pam had done everything for him bar actually counselling his clients. She knew what he would ask for almost before he thought to ask for it, ran the office like a well-oiled, military machine and was the kind of person you would happily entrust your life to in an emergency. There was nothing about his practice that Pam didn’t know. Would he ever find someone with her level of loyalty and commitment in a city where trading up to a better job was a constant goal?

‘Then you can do no better than choose McKevitt Buildings as your practice base,’ the agent beamed, proud of his closing argument.

Jake stared at the agent’s self-satisfied smile and wondered if he would ever feel as much pleasure in his New York practice as the weasel-like little man clearly did in his profession. ‘OK. Thank you, Mr …?’

‘Howell-Brown,’ the agent reminded him, thrusting another business card into his hand. ‘Eugene Howell-Brown. I’m sorry. Did I forget to mention it?’ The question was loaded with accusation and Jake momentarily regretted forgetting the agent’s name so easily.

He did his best to return to the matter at hand; thinking about last night coupled with his hangover wasn’t helping him this morning. ‘Forgive me; it’s been a busy morning. I like the office, so I’ll take it.’

Eugene Howell-Brown forgot his passive-aggressive consternation and instantly sprang into action. ‘Wonderful! You will not regret this decision, Dr Steinmann. Now all I need from you are a couple of signatures and I’ll arrange for you to have the keys …’

Out on the too-bright sidewalk outside, Jake paused to take a breath. He needed to focus, to work his way through the list of tasks he had assigned himself today. There were recruiters to meet, office furniture and décor to choose and a million and one other jobs to attend to. But right now, they could wait. Before any of it could happen, Jake needed coffee.

In the sanctuary of a warmly lit coffee house nearby, he ordered an enormous black coffee. As he found a table hidden from the hubbub of other customers, his phone rang.

‘You haven’t called me. And you said you would.’

Jake smiled as the soothing voice of his former PA warmed his ear. ‘What can I tell you, Pam? I’m a disgrace.’

‘I was worried about you. You knew I would be. So? How’s life in the City That Sneers At You?’

‘And New York sends its love right back at you.’

‘Be serious.’

‘It’s good. A little weird to be back, but I haven’t been ridden out of town yet.’ Jake took a long sip of coffee and closed his eyes. ‘Actually, I just signed the lease on a new office building.’

‘Where?’

‘Just off Broadway. Near the Lincoln Center. It’s a good space: I think you’d approve.’

Pam’s snort made Jake grin. It was no secret what she thought of the East Coast in general and Manhattan specifically. In her college days she had interned at a law firm in New York for two months while staying with her aunt and the experience had apparently traumatised her for life. She had often said that the only native New Yorker she had ever liked was Jake. Coming from a woman as set in her opinions as Pam, this was the ultimate compliment.

Jake decided to move to safer territory. ‘How’s the new job? Is your new employer as devastatingly handsome as I am?’

Now it was Pam’s turn to laugh. ‘He’s tidier. And pays me more. But no, he isn’t a patch on you. You’re very hard to replace, Dr Steinmann.’

‘Oh, if only that were true.’ He didn’t mean to say it out loud; but of all the people who could have heard it, Pam understood more than most.

‘Tell me she hasn’t—’

‘Afraid so. I’ve had the papers for a week.’

‘And you’re going to sign them?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t signed them yet. I will, I guess, just not yet.’

‘That woman doesn’t deserve you,’ Pam retorted. ‘I’m sorry, Jake, but you don’t pay my salary any more so I can say it. You’re better off without her. Sign the papers and get on with your life.’

Her forthrightness took Jake aback – in all the time they had worked together Pam had been very guarded in her comments on his private life, even though he often guessed what her opinions were. ‘You think?’

‘I do. In fact, I think it’s the only way. You talk to your clients about closure all the time: I’ve heard you. You can’t make her change her mind. But you can change your response to it.’

Jake laughed despite the sinking feeling Pam’s words caused. ‘Pam Lomas, are you psychoanalysing me?’

‘Maybe I am, Doctor. Maybe you need to hear it. Look, I can’t tell you what to do. I just care about you and I know you’re not happy. Ultimately it’s up to you how you move on. But you need to move on …’

When the call ended, Jake stared into the dark depths of his filter coffee. He hadn’t expected to hear it from his former employee, but Pam was right: he needed to take control of the situation. If only he’d reached this conclusion last night, when the possibility to take a new step had presented itself …

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Beads & Beans craft and coffee store, Brooklyn

‘So, let me get this straight: you spent all night talking to a cute guy and you didn’t ask for his number?’

The look on Imelda Coulson’s face said it all. Bea groaned as her friend observed her from the top step of a rickety stepladder, a cluster of knitted clouds in her hand.

‘Of course I didn’t,’ Bea replied. ‘And I never said he was cute! It was just nice to meet somebody who understood my point of view.’

Imelda snorted and began to hang the clouds from small hooks in the ceiling. ‘A point of view that you’re hiding behind.’

‘I’m not hiding …’

‘Yes, you are. Admit it, honey: if Otis hadn’t stood you up that night you’d still be with him and you’d still be a firm believer in relationships.’

The mention of Otis made Bea wince. She might have succeeded in telling everyone else she didn’t miss him but she had a long way to go to convince herself. She didn’t want to feel this way. She wanted to feel as happy being single as she had spent many hours telling Russ, her parents and Imelda she was. But she had invested five years of her life in building something with Otis. It was unrealistic to think she could walk away from that unscathed.

‘That’s immaterial. Otis did stand me up and it was the last straw. He isn’t going to change and I’m not prepared to put my life on hold waiting for a miracle.’

‘But you’re still in love with him?’ Imelda pulled no punches and Bea was winded by the direct question.

‘Maybe I am. Or maybe it’s been slipping away from me for months, only I wasn’t prepared to notice.’ She sighed and moved to the side as Imelda descended the steps. ‘There’s no point trying to work that one out. I just want to focus on me for a change. Is that so wrong?’

Imelda’s expression softened and she put her hand on Bea’s shoulder. ‘Of course it’s not wrong. I just want you to be happy.’

‘So do I. That’s why I want to find out how to do that by myself.’

‘O-K …’ Imelda shrugged, about as satisfied with Bea’s answer as Bea was. ‘How’s Russ been?’

That was a good question. Russ had veered between insisting that all Bea needed was time to forgive his best friend and standing staunchly alongside her in her decision. At least he seemed to have finally got the message that Bea didn’t want to talk about it now, after a week of berating her at every opportunity. Bea was relieved to feel the pressure lessen: what she wanted now was to focus on the bookstore.

‘I think he knows not to push me on it.’

Imelda smiled as she sorted through a basket of knitted meteorological symbols for her window display. ‘The guy cares about you. In his own klutzy way. And I think he’s a little embarrassed about his friend. After all, if it wasn’t for Russ, you and Otis would never have met.’

A brief memory of the party where Russ had introduced Bea to his ‘legitimate single friend who most definitely isn’t gay’ flashed across Bea’s mind and she felt her stomach twist in response. Otis Greene had caught her attention immediately, with his velvet-smooth olive skin, dark eyes that seemed to call her closer and toned body visible beneath the contours of his well-cut shirt and jeans. When he smiled, it was as if a pause button had been pressed on the rest of the scene in the bar: suddenly it was just him and her, smiles spreading as their eyes drank in the sight of one another. Bea had fallen hard and fast for the handsome art dealer – a fact she could trace back to that first meeting – and that initial surge of emotion had carried her through years of not-so-perfect times.

She didn’t want to still love Otis. She wanted to push him and everything in her life connected to him into the Hudson River and walk away, never looking back. But Bea knew her own heart. That was why striking out on her own was so important.

‘I understand why Russ tried to get us back together. I do. He’s stuck between Otis and me and I don’t suppose it’s ever been a particularly comfortable position.’

‘Shame you didn’t ask for the barman’s number, then,’ Imelda winked, twirling a large knitted raindrop around her forefinger as she ascended the stepladder again. ‘Could have solved a lot of problems …’