You Had Me at Good-bye Page 8

  “Oh, you’re finally taking a vacation?” Fran looks at me with a bright smile (for Tony’s benefit, her voice is edged with concern). “It’s about time. You work much too hard.”

  Tony nods his agreement. “My thoughts exactly.”

  And just like that, I’m out the door, and Fran has the edge on me. I’m not allowed back in the office for a month.

  A month. What on earth am I going to do for a whole month?

  I wipe my nose with the millionth tissue I’ve used since entering this dumb cab. Tears keep coming.

  “You okay, lady?” the cabbie asks, with a furtive glance in the rearview mirror. He sounds annoyed, like he’s sick of women crying in his car. As much as I’d like to open up to someone, I know I’m not going to get any sympathy from him.

  “Let me off at the corner,” I sniff. I mean, if the guy’s not going to give me any sympathy, I’m not paying him an extra four bucks to go a measly quarter of a mile. I’d rather walk off the frustration anyway.

  New York in the summer isn’t exactly fresh. You can still smell things like garbage, gas, and ozone-layer-destroying emissions, for starters. But occasionally, when the atmosphere is just right, you can actually take a deep breath without bringing on a coughing fit. Those are the days I love, especially when the air is smooth in the aftermath of a cleansing rain, and holds the promise of more to come. Like now.

  I slip into Nick’s amid a rush-hour coffee run and, as usual, the line is backed up to the door. I actually notice some shoving going on. New Yorkers aren’t exactly known for their politeness, but a twentysomething muscleman elbowing a grandmother out of the way just to get a cup of coffee and a muffin is wrong on so many levels, and out-of-bounds even for this city.

  The thought crosses my mind that maybe I ought to leave before I get roped into helping, but you know, I guess I knew what was coming before I gave the cabbie the address. After all, it is five o’clock, and that’s one of Nick’s busiest times of day. So I admit to myself that I actually came to help out. I elbow my way through the crowd of more than one cussing patron and do what’s becoming a habit. I slip an apron from the hook behind the kitchen door and slide it on over my head. Nick acknowledges my presence with barely a nod, but I can see by the way his face relaxes that he’s glad to see me.

  6

  Valerie knew she shouldn’t love the man who inadvertently caused her dismissal, but how could she not? John’s arms felt too good. His kisses too sweet. Besides, he hadn’t done it on purpose, had he?

  Oh, how she missed long talks with her mom and her father’s words of wisdom. The month that they’d been gone seemed like years. Perhaps a trip to Africa was just what she needed to get her mind off of her own problems. And perhaps she would find a way to help a child in the process.

  —An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess

  by Dancy Ames

  I try to convince myself that it is not the end of the world. But tell that to an overachieving rich girl with a controlling mother who is armed with unrealistic expectations for her daughter. Failure has never been an option. And a forced vacation, in our book, is like a thirty-day suspension. A punishment. In short—failure.

  Ninety-nine percent effort might as well be zero, and second place means “loser” with a capital L. In light of this completely unfair and dysfunctional upbringing, is it any wonder that I derive no comfort from the thought that the sun’ll come out tomorrow? I mean, I have my own Daddy Warbucks and I’m still miserable. So take that, Little Orphan Annie, and get real.

  Nick’s brows scrunch together when I take him up on his offer of free food without any argument. I plop down with a white-chocolate mocha latte with double whipped cream and wait there sullenly until Nick sets a meatball sub in front of me. I swallow my first bite and swipe at my face.

  “Look here, princess,” he says. “It ain’t that I don’t appreciate the help, but you didn’t do your best job today. Something’s wrong. You wanna talk about it?”

  Tears spring to my eyes, and I tell him what happened.

  “So you get a break. Big deal! Everybody needs a vacation.” He shrugs his big Italian shoulders. The ones everything obviously rolls off of.

  “It’s one thing to take a vacation because you have somewhere to go and someone to go with. But it’s no fun to take a vacation because you laughed in someone’s face and the boss is peeved.”

  “A vacation’s a vacation,” he says matter-of-factly. “It ain’t like you got fired.”

  “Seriously, Nick. Do you understand that I’m actually upset about this? I love my job. I want to edit. I need to edit.” I stop short of grabbing his shirt and saying, “Editing is my life.” That would just be bordering on the obsessive.

  “Geez, you are uptight. Maybe that boss of yours is right. Some time off’ll likely do you some good. Maybe take a little trip.”

  That’s when I really start to panic. “A trip?”

  “Yeah. When was the last time you got outta this city?”

  I open and close my mouth because I don’t have an answer.

  Nick gives me a know-it-all nod. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  “Oh, Nick. There’s nowhere to go and no one to go with. My friends can’t just pick up and take off right now. Besides, New York has everything I need. Seriously, it’s a great town. There’s no place I’d rather be than right here in the city.”

  Only I want to be working. I don’t relax well. Why do people have to see that as a flaw? I think it’s a sign of a good work ethic. And wouldn’t you think Mr. Kramer would think the same? What more do they want than a dedicated, hardworking employee?

  “Know what you need?”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I need to edit.”

  “Besides that, girlie.”

  “What?” I say glumly, around a huge bite. Mother would be mortified if she could see me like this.

  “You need to come over to old Nick’s for some of my lasagna. My ma’s recipe.”

  My mouth waters. “A cure for everything?” I’m feeling better already, just from the thought of it.

  “You got it, princess. Bring them two friends of yours. Tomorrow. Seven sharp. Capisce?”

  “I’ll ask them.”

  He scowls as though I’ve thrown his offer back in his face in a most ungrateful manner.

  “We’ll be there.”

  I should go home right away. But Laini has a late class and Tabby’s with David and his twins. The thought of going back to an empty apartment just depresses me. So I take the subway over to Dad’s. I figure a girl needs her father at a time like this. I take the elevator up to the love shack and knock on the door, thinking only of the relief I will feel when I’m in my daddy’s arms, crying on his shoulder as he consoles me. Why I thought that, I’ll never know. He’s never been Pa Ingalls before. But in my emotional state, I do what so many girls do and head to my dream father.

  Reality hits as he opens the door and panic strikes his features. He slips out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. “Princess, what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, Daddy,” I say, throwing myself into his arms. “Mr. Kramer made me take four weeks off of work today. What am I going to do? I think Fran is trying to get me fired.”

  He gives me a quick pat on the back and pulls me away from him. “I’m sorry to hear that, honey, but I’m sort of in the middle of something right now. Can we talk about it later?”

  I gape in disbelief, the betrayal slicing a thick chunk from my already raw and tattered heart. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I just . . .” He clears his throat and shifts his gaze. Suspicion slips over my brain, and I’m starting to get just what his problem is. I recognize that look. It’s sort of like a kid caught red-handed in the cookies and trying to convince his mom he doesn’t have a thing to do with the missing treats.

  “You have another woman in there!”

  “No. It’s not like that.”

  “Not like what?”


  “I’m not cheating on your mother.”

  “So there is another woman in your apartment.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are you kidding me?” Shoving past him, I grab the knob and twist. Locked.

  Filled with indignation and desperately needing to release a little stress, I pound on the door. “I know you’re in there. You’d better open this door.”

  “Dancy!” Dad hisses in my ear. “For the love of Pete. I live here. Don’t cause a scene.”

  I glare at him and turn back to the door, where I start pounding again. “I said open up. I’m not leaving until you do!”

  I hear the lock twist, and slowly the door opens. “Stuart, don’t you think it’s time she knew?”

  My jaw drops. “Nanny Mary?”

  Her eyes light with pleasure and guilt. “It’s been seventeen years and you still remember me?”

  “Of course, you were my fav—” My voice trails off as I realize something that would have been obvious to anyone else at first glance. This is why Nanny Mary left so abruptly without telling me good-bye. It was all about her and Dad.

  “I don’t believe it!” I practically shout. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t. Dad! What’s wrong with you?”

  “Wait. I’m telling you—it’s not what you think.”

  “Tell that one to Mother. For the umpteenth time.” I whip around and stomp down the hall.

  “Wait,” Nanny Mary calls after me.

  “No thanks!” I send back over my shoulder. “Have a nice life. Actually, no. Have a terrible life. You deserve it. Both of you.”

  “Dancy!” They’re nothing if not persistent. “This isn’t what it looks like. Your dad was telling the truth.”

  “Yeah, right!” I stand outside of the elevator and push the button. Luckily it dings immediately and the doors open.

  “You have a sixteen-year-old brother.”

  I freeze and stare at the elevator, unable to move. Wishing my legs would propel me forward, but they refuse. I watch wordlessly as the doors close without me inside. Slowly, I turn and face the guilty couple.

  “What?”

  Dad steps forward, his hands outstretched, palms up in a plea. “Your mother knows about this. It was the real reason we split up for good.”

  “Our relationship was over a long time ago,” Nanny Mary says. “Please believe me.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Sarcasm drips from my trembling lips.

  “Let’s go inside, away from prying eyes,” Dad suggests. As much as I want to take a page out of Nick’s book of etiquette and suggest he take a long walk off a short pier, I need to hear about this crazy secret they’ve kept for all these years.

  Nick’s place is above the coffee shop, so the three of us—Tabby, Laini, and I—walk the few short blocks to dinner. Neither of them fussed at me for accepting an invitation for all of us without asking. I guess they figure I’ve had enough frustration in the last couple of days and don’t want to add insult to injury.

  “Wow, so you have another brother.” Laini’s voice breaks through our silence on this balmy summer evening. All around us, the night crowd comes to life, clubs fill up, horns honk, and dusk brings on streetlights and car lights. Call me crazy, but I love this time of night. And this is part of the reason I don’t feel the need to leave the city. I love it. I really do. I’m sure the country is lovely too, but I love New York. It’s my town. Have I said that before? Well, it is.

  Over the last twenty-four hours, the girls and I have hashed and rehashed the fact that I now have another brother.

  “And your mom knew about him all along?” Tabby asks.

  I shrug, still trying to get that one through my head. “Apparently. I mean, she just decided I wasn’t to be told. That Kale and I shouldn’t have anything to do with our own flesh and blood.”

  “But your dad—”

  “He’s been involved with my little brother the whole time. Brandon knows him as Dad.”

  “Wow,” Tabby says for the hundredth time.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Are you going to get to meet him, now that the cat’s out of the bag?” Tabby asks.

  I cringe a little inside at the violent disdain I have for the suggestion. This whole thing is like a blow to the stomach. “I might not have any choice.” I step aside as a group of teenagers barrels past without so much as a look in our direction.

  “Kids,” Laini says, shaking her head.

  “Yes, and my brother’s apparently just like those.” We resume our walk. “Apparently Nanny Mary can’t handle the little hoodlum anymore and wants my dad to take him for a while.”

  “Are you serious?” Tabby says. “Just like that?”

  I nod. “Her mother is dying of cancer, and Nanny wants to live with her in New Jersey and take care of her minus the distraction of a juvenile delinquent.”

  Laini tucks her hand through my arm. “I guess you can’t blame her for wanting to do that. It’s sort of commendable. Don’t you think so?”

  I shrug. “Sure. I just don’t see how my dad is going to handle this. He hasn’t had much experience as a caregiver.”

  Laini adjusts the plate of freshly baked pull-apart dinner rolls she’s carrying in her other hand. “Don’t you think it’s time he learned?”

  I’d say so. But why does he have to learn this late-in-life lesson with a son I don’t even know?

  Nick is waiting at the door with a grin and a bottle of ginger ale when we arrive. “Right on time.”

  Tabby gives him a quick squeeze. “Thanks for the invite, Nick.”

  “That lasagna smells amazing.” I sniff the air. “When do we eat?”

  “It’s coming right up, princess.”

  “Need some help?” Laini asks. I’m ashamed I didn’t think to say that myself.

  “No, no. You three are my guests. Nelda would have my head if I let you work.”

  We sit at the table while Nick bustles around in the kitchen. The table’s set with plates, glasses, silverware, and salad. I realize all I’ve had to eat all day is a veggie fritter Laini made for me before she left the apartment. I slept all day. Literally got out of bed at one o’clock. Showered just in time for Laini and Tabby to get home and leave for Nick’s.

  By the time Nick gets everything on the table and sits at the head, I could eat just about anything.

  Nick bows his head, and we follow suit. He thanks God for our presence and for the food, and asks for a blessing on his beautiful Nelda and “strength for Nita.”

  As soon as the prayer is over, he reaches for our plates, one at a time, and dishes up the lasagna. Between the salad, lasagna, and Laini’s homemade rolls, my stomach fills up in no time and I enter my comfort zone. Warm and content. Maybe that’s why I say what we’ve all been thinking, even though I know I’m opening myself up to Nick’s barbs.

  “Why don’t you tell us where Nelda is?”

  He scowls and looks like he’s about to tell me off, then for no reason at all, he nods. “Okay. I guess I oughta let you three in on it. But”—he captures the three of us in a stern frown—“this is just between us.”

  “Scout’s honor,” Tabby says, giving the salute.

  Nick’s eyes tear up a little. I hold my breath, stunned at his sudden show of emotion. “Our daughter, Anita, is sick.”

  Silence permeates the room. I have no idea what to say, and I’m sure Laini and Tabby are struggling with their own lack of words.

  “She ain’t got a husband no more since he died a few years ago. Nita’s got two kids in school and needs her mother’s help while she goes through cancer treatments.”

  “Of course she does,” Laini says, her voice filled with compassion. Poor Nick. I can’t imagine how hard this is on the big guy.

  I try to lighten the mood by focusing on what Nick loves: his coffee shop. “Hey, Nick, how’s the search for an employee coming along?” I ask.

  Nick shakes his head. “I got a kid starting tomorrow. He goes to college l
ike your friend Laini here.” He turns to her. “You seem like a real smart kid.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” comes Laini’s rueful reply.

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed that he’ll work out for you.” Somehow the conversation slips into another topic, and then another, and by nine o’clock, everyone is starting to yawn but me. We try to help clean up, but Nick’s having none of it. “I didn’t invite you here to work. I invited you to eat.”

  “It was truly delicious, Nick,” Laini says as she walks to the door. “I’d love the recipe.”

  Nick shakes his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. Family secret. I can’t give it out.”

  She smiles and reaches out to give him a hug. “I understand.”

  We say good night and head back to the apartment to decompress, as we always do at the end of the day.

  Tabby plops onto the couch and flings her feet up on the coffee table. “Thank goodness my first scene isn’t until after lunch tomorrow. I get to sleep in.” She looks at Laini. “What time do you have class tomorrow?”

  Laini sits down next to Tabby and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not going.”

  “What do you mean you’re not going?” I ask. “If you have a class, you have to go.” My work ethic demands it.

  Her eyes fill with tears. I sit on her other side and slip my arm around her shoulders. “I can’t do this,” she moans.

  Tabby takes Laini’s hand and holds it tight. “Can’t do what, honey?”

  “Interior design. I’m just no good.”

  “We’ve talked all about this, Laini. You just have to—”

  “I know, find my market.” Laini looks from me to Tabby and back to me. “The thing is, I want to do it the regular way. I want to see what other people see. And if I can’t, I don’t want to do interior design. I like stripes with dots. I like lavender and orange. I think those colors together are nice.”

  “You only have two more weeks,” Tabby says. “How about sticking it out and praying that God will show you what He wants you to do?”