I’ll Take New York

I was wrong about the party, Bea said to herself, I do have a friend here. She smiled at the breathtaking nightscape. Hi, NYC. I’m so glad to see you …

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

Bea looked across at the blond-haired guest beside her. She guessed he was in his thirties, although in this part of New York it was impossible to tell. He might just have a very good surgeon …

‘Stunning. Must be fabulous to live somewhere like this.’

He smiled, revealing a perfect set of brilliantly white teeth. ‘It is. Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself.’ He held his left hand out, the light from the halogen spots above them glinting across the wide gold band on his third finger. ‘Wes Avery.’

‘Bea James.’

‘Pleasure to meet you, Bea. So how do you know the happy couple?’

Given that this was a private engagement party for a couple Bea didn’t even know, she had been dreading this question. ‘They’re good friends of my brother’s partner, Celia.’

‘Celia Reighton? Wow, I didn’t realise I was in the company of a Reighton clanswoman.’ Seeing Bea’s confusion, he laughed. ‘I know her well. So you’re Stewart’s single sister, huh?’

Great. ‘I suppose I must be.’

‘I’ve been hearing about you from Celia. Seems she’s keen to get you hooked up.’

That figured. Bea kept her smile steady while secretly planning how she would exact her revenge on Stewart’s partner. ‘I see. Well, I’m in no hurry to …’

Wes’ hand appeared at the small of her back, the sudden – and uninvited – contact causing Bea to quickly step away. ‘Hey, don’t sweat it. Being single is an advantage. Just because people arrived here in couples, doesn’t mean they all want to leave in one.’ His thousand-kilowatt smile fixed squarely on her. ‘Listen, I have a great loft a few blocks from here. If you ever want a personal, private view of the Upper West Side, call me.’ He thrust a business card into her hand and sauntered away.

Stunned, Bea stared at it. Had a married man just propositioned her? This evening was getting better and better …

‘Sis, you’ve got to try the sashimi,’ Stewart said, stopping when he saw Bea’s horror. ‘What? You don’t like raw seafood?’

‘I do … I just …’ She swallowed as the full impact hit her. ‘A married guy just gave me his card.’

Stewart pulled a face. ‘Eeww. I hope you sent him packing?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘Good. I’m afraid Celia is playing Millionaire Matchmaker for you. I’ve told her to stop, but you know what she’s like once she gets an idea in her head.’

Bea raised her eyes to the apartment’s high ceiling. ‘Fantastic. So not only am I fair game for adulterous Lotharios but I’m now your girlfriend’s pathetic pet project. I think I might just go, Stew. I don’t know anyone here and it should be a celebration for Celia’s friends.’

‘You’ve been here less than an hour. And whether you like it or not, this is what being single in Manhattan is like. Better to get used to it and learn to enjoy yourself, I reckon. Stay. Try the sashimi. It’ll change your life.’

‘Maybe later.’

Her brother shot her a look. ‘OK. But if I come back in half an hour and you’re still moping here I’m going to force-feed you gourmet food.’

‘Fine.’

Forget sashimi, Bea thought. What I need is a drink …

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#ulink_b37ac329-cb30-53ce-94ff-1957331f84e6)

Private loft apartment, Upper West Side (#ulink_b37ac329-cb30-53ce-94ff-1957331f84e6)

‘So sorry to hear about Jess, man. I thought you two were made for life …’

Jake could feel the edges of his smile fraying and longed to change the subject. But this had become the sole topic of conversation with everyone he had talked to during the last hour. It was, of course, an unavoidable hazard; most of Ed’s friends had known Jake since childhood and therefore were fully appraised of every aspect of his life. And those who didn’t know every available detail were only too happy to be shocked by it tonight. Everywhere he walked in the elegant apartment, he could feel the pitying eyes of almost a hundred guests following him. How had this outcome not occurred to him when he was drawing up the guest list for this evening?

‘Shame you didn’t invite more single women,’ a well-meaning friend observed. ‘Even the waiting staff are all guys.’

Jake shrugged. ‘My bad. Anyway, I’m not looking.’

His friend’s blonde companion tittered. ‘This is Manhattan, Jake. Everybody is looking.’

‘Especially the ones who shouldn’t be,’ another friend quipped, his remark allowing the group now gathered around Jake to laugh and not feel so awkward about the situation.

Jake wished for light relief to rescue him in the same way, but none appeared. ‘They’re welcome to the search. I’m not in the game.’

The blonde’s nipped-and-tucked features fell as far as they could. ‘Don’t ever say that,’ she breathed. ‘You shouldn’t deny yourself, Jake! You’re still young and … virile …’ Her ill-disguised survey of just how young and virile Jake was left him reeling and he mumbled something unintelligible to make his escape.

This place is nuts! How had his good intentions towards Ed brought him into the minefield he now found himself in? He looked up to the apartment’s mezzanine where his brother and Rosie were looking happy and relaxed, sharing conversation with friends. At least they were enjoying tonight. This was their night, Jake reminded himself, not his. It would have to be his mantra for the rest of the party. That, and bourbon …

He remembered a client he had worked with back in his Russian Hill practice in San Francisco, who went to every social occasion convinced the rest of the guests knew his deepest, most secret thoughts.

‘They watch me, Dr Steinmann. They say pleasant things, but I can feel them scrutinising me. Like a bug.’

‘Why do you think they would want to do that, Ray?’

‘Are you kidding me? Do you know what I’m capable of thinking? They know it all, Doc. I can’t hide.’

Jake had spent months assuring Ray that small talk was a way to pass the time and socialise without asking too much of either party; that everyone had their own set of hang-ups and insecurities to deal with; and that it was impossible to see anyone’s innermost thoughts, however obvious they may seem to be. But even on their last session before Jake packed up his San Franciscan life, Jake hadn’t been entirely assured that Ray had accepted it.

Now, surrounded by familiar faces that did know Jake’s business and were making valiant attempts to guess his innermost thoughts, he felt a new affinity with his former client’s predicament.

‘Jake …’ Chef Henri was wringing his hands beside him. ‘I am so sorry, but …’

‘The bar?’

‘There is a considerable queue. Do you mind?’

Heart lifting, Jake could have kissed the apologetic chef but resisted, settling instead for slapping him amiably on the back. ‘I’m there.’

Swinging his jacket over one arm, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and strode through the guests towards the bar, which had been set up beneath the mezzanine, next to a floor-to-ceiling window looking out towards the beautiful night-time cityscape. Seeing the buildings and lights of the Upper West Side comforted Jake: while he’d loved his adopted city of San Francisco, he had always carried a secret longing for New York. His father’s favourite saying was true: Steinmanns were born with Big-Apple-shaped hearts.

‘Hey, New York,’ he smiled, pausing for a moment to take in the view. ‘Looking good.’ Taking a deep breath for the first time that evening, he turned towards the bar and jumped into the fray.

‘Scotch straight up, no ice.’

‘Manhattan – one olive.’