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Briefly she thought about Marnie’s email. Maybe next year she’d venture out. Consider taking a cruise or a guided tour of France and Italy. She had enough money saved. Sharing the family home with her mother had its financial advantage. Laura Carter did not do well living on her own, and after divorce number three, Emily had agreed to move back into the large brick colonial to help out with the mortgage and expenses.
Two years later, they still got along great, rarely stepping on each other’s toes. Mainly, she suspected, because she spent so much time in her office and her mother was out and about most days. Ironically, or maybe tragically was more apt, at fifty-four, her mom had a more active social life than Emily did.
“I haven’t got all night, you two.” It was Pam yelling from the den. “Can we get on with this?”
Emily sighed. “Don’t be shocked, but I actually agree with her. Let’s get this over with.”
“You have a point.” She glanced at the clock. “I may still make it to bridge at Sheila’s.”
“Don’t see why not,” Emily muttered. “This shouldn’t take long.” Her mood had suddenly plummeted and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t give a tinker’s damn that everyone but her had someplace to go tonight. She truly didn’t. Her irritation had more to do with how she knew the so-called family discussion would inevitably play out.
Oblivious to Emily’s crankiness, her mother led the way into the den, heading straight for the wet bar. Pam and Denise were sitting on the leather sofa, sipping their cocktails. Emily claimed the matching recliner and watched her mother pour herself a glass of white wine.
“I’ll have one of those, if you don’t mind,” Emily said, aware that everyone turned to stare at her. She rarely drank, generally on a holiday or a special occasion, but that was it.
Sliding her feet out from the pink house slippers, she drew her legs up and curled them under her bottom, feeling a tad better just because she’d surprised them. Silly, but there it was.
Pam eyed the slippers with disdain. “I guess we know what you’ll be asking Santa for this Christmas.”
“A new sister?” Emily said sweetly.
Denise burst out laughing.
“Be nice, girls.” Their mother shook her head with mock disapproval and passed Emily the glass of wine.
Pam snorted, finished her drink and checked the time. “I know this is tradition and all, but honestly, we should’ve just done this on the phone. I assume Thanksgiving dinner will be at four,” she said, glancing at everyone and then promptly continuing, apparently requiring no agreement. “This year I’ll be in charge of drinks for the adults and kids, and there’s a fabulous new bakery around the corner from my office that’s taking orders for dinner rolls and pies, so I’ll take care of that, as well.”
“Store-bought pies and rolls?” Denise gaped. “Seriously?”
“Look, most of the time everyone is too stuffed for dessert, and shouldn’t we give Emily a break? Unless you’re planning on making the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and yam casserole?”
Denise flushed and slid Emily an apologetic look. “I figured I’d bring the salad, cranberry sauce and nuts as usual. We’ll be arriving home that morning after skiing in Vail so I won’t have time to actually cook.”
Pam raised her brows at their mother. “You’ll take care of the peas and pearl onions?”
“I’ll be gone overnight to Chicago myself. I promised Carla I’d go shopping with her before the Christmas rush. But I think I can handle the peas and onion dish. I know how much Mark looks forward to it.”
“How fun. Chicago will be perfect. I bet the city will have decorated for Christmas by then,” Pam said, and went on to describe the surprise she had for her husband.
With growing frustration, Emily listened to them discuss their respective plans for shopping and visiting friends and skiing. Firmly reminding herself that this was as much her fault as it was theirs didn’t seem to help. No one had bothered to ask her what she wanted to contribute or even if she felt like tackling the epic meal. They assumed she’d be in charge, just like they did every holiday. It was a task to which she herself had always acquiesced without complaint.
She quietly cleared her throat. “I won’t be here.”
Pam and Denise abruptly looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief.
Their mother, who was in the middle of relating an anecdote about her last Chicago shopping trip, stopped talking. Obviously she hadn’t heard Emily. Looking confused, her gaze skipped to each of her daughters. “What?”
“Repeat that,” Pam ordered.
“I won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” Just saying the words scared the living daylights out at her, but too bad. She’d had it.
“You’re kidding.” Denise frowned. “Where else would you be?”
Emily hesitated, her heart thudding. “New York.”
“Seriously,” Denise said in a suspicious voice. “New York. You never go anywhere, and you’re suddenly going someplace like New York?”
“I thought it would be fun to do my shopping there this year.” Emily gritted her teeth at the amused way Pam and her mother were staring at her. They thought she was bluffing. Oh, God, there’d be no backing out now.
“And when were you going to tell us you had other plans for Thanksgiving?” Pam asked with that hint of reproach her older sister had mastered over the years.
“As soon as you guys bothered to ask.”
Pam made a sound of exasperation. “But you always… This is because of the UPS guy, isn’t it? Really, Emily, you so need to get laid.”
“Come on, girls.” Their mother pinned them with a warning look she hadn’t used since they were in high school.
Emily huffed out a laugh. Not that she’d ever admit it in this lifetime, but her sister was right. Getting laid was exactly what Emily needed. And New York sounded like the perfect place to do it.
THE FLIGHT HAD BEEN BUMPY, the layover in Detroit endless and now dark threatening clouds hovered over LaGuardia airport as Emily stood at the curb waiting for a shuttle to take her to the overpriced Manhattan hotel that she had impulsively allowed Marnie to book. At least her bag had made it. Two other women standing at baggage claim next to her found out that their luggage had gone to Florida by mistake.
Although, even if she and her bag had parted ways, the loss would’ve been minimal. She’d purposely packed light. No baggy sweats, no fuzzy pink slippers or holey T-shirts, only one pair of jeans, two blouses and enough underwear to get her to the nearest Victoria’s Secret. She knew herself too well. If she didn’t force herself to shop for new clothes, she would stoop to wearing the same comfy rags she always wore.
Instead, she’d searched online for stores before she’d left home and had an entire shopping itinerary planned for tomorrow, her first full day in the city. The second thing she was going to do was find a guide. Not for the entire week of her stay, but just for a few days. The recommendations she’d gotten from Marnie sounded pretty cool but really expensive.
Meanwhile, she just hoped she’d meet a guy sometime during her trip that she liked well enough to dust off a condom. And that she’d be brave enough to go through with it.
The idea of a vacation fling was mostly scary but also exhilarating. Maybe here, where it was…nothing like home, she’d find a whole new side to herself. After all, she had a whole glorious week ahead of her, as she’d reminded herself on the plane ride often enough. Because if she hadn’t continually given herself pep talks, fear and uncertainty would have made her wish she’d never opened her mouth that fateful day in the den.
The trepidation she’d been experiencing was totally irrational, a fact she admitted. Not even thirty and she’d become a creature of habit, afraid to step out of her comfort zone, afraid to take the smallest chance or make the most minimal change in her life.
No, that wasn’t quite true. Fear was the simple answer. The pathetic truth was, the idea to broaden her horizons never entered her complacent mind. For the past five years she’d been insidiously content to be a hermit. Crazy really, because she was curious by nature. She loved learning new things. That’s why she adored her job as a freelance copy editor.
She noticed a shuttle approaching, and to make sure she boarded the right van, she checked the name that the woman at the information booth had scribbled down for her.
This trip would be good for her. Just what she needed to push herself out into the world. Instead of slaving over a hot stove all Thanksgiving morning while her family was out cavorting, she’d find a sinfully decadent brunch in a fancy hotel. Maybe she’d go all out. Not even have turkey and all the trimmings, but a big old plate of rich, gooey desserts instead.
For once in her life, no adventure would be too intimidating or too exotic. Each day she’d tackle something unthinkable. Hire a drop-dead gorgeous guide to show her around the town. Eat at a five-star restaurant by herself. Nope, she wouldn’t be afraid to try anything, she decided with conviction, clutching her carry-on with a clammy palm.
At least, that was the plan.
2
“HEY, NICKY, OVER HERE! Wait. Come on, sign this cap for my nephew, will ya?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nick Corrigan saw the dark-haired man waving the blue baseball cap. He’d come out of the shadows, just to the left of the door, as if he’d been waiting outside of the apartment building for Nick to leave.
“Get lost, pal. I’m not telling you again,” the bulky doorman growled and positioned himself in between Nick and the insistent fan.
“It’s okay, Leo. I’ll sign his hat.”
The older man shook his graying head, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “You know what happens after you stop to sign one, Nicky. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”
“I know.” He reached around to take the cap, and sure enough, nearly a block away, a pair of kids—about twelve or thirteen years old—scampered across the street, weaving around speeding taxis in their haste to waylay him.
“Make it out to Toby.” The guy gave Leo a smug look as he handed Nick a black felt pen. “Man, he’s not gonna believe this. My nephew, he’ll be ten on Saturday. You’re his idol.”
Nick smiled wryly. “Tell him he needs a better role model than a jock who has a good arm.”
“Hell, you’re my idol, too. You still dating that model from Germany?”
“You know better than to ask a personal question,” Leo interjected, glaring at the other man. The doorman took the cap from Nick and shoved it back at the fan.
“Thanks, Nicky.” The man sauntered away while reading the inscription to his nephew.
Huffing and puffing, the kids who’d charged down from 68th Street stopped just short of running them over. “Hey, Nicky, would you sign our shirts, too?” the tall lanky redheaded boy asked, his breathing labored, his mouth spread in a broad grin.
“I shouldn’t sign anything.” He pinned them with a warning look. “What were you doing darting into traffic like that?”
The shorter, stouter boy’s eyes widened. “We didn’t want to miss you.”
“Use the crosswalk next time,” Nick muttered, and scrawled his name across the back of each of their shirts.
“Cool. Thanks.” Both boys craned their necks over their shoulders to check out his barely legible signature.
“Your car’s waiting,” Leo reminded him. “Better get in before someone else spots you.”
Nick nodded and quickly moved toward the black Lincoln Town Car, where the driver stood holding open the back door.
Leo followed him, waited until he got in and then leaned over. “Looks like rain. You want to take an umbrella?”
“No, thanks. I’m just going to go grab something to eat. I won’t be out late.”
“You expecting anyone I should let in?” the doorman asked quietly.
“Not tonight.”
Leo slowly nodded, his face creased with concern. “Okay. I’ll be off duty when you get back so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll bring you coffee and a bagel after my run.”
The older man scowled as he straightened, and patted his round belly. “Better skip the bagel. The wife says I gotta lose this by Christmas.”
Nick grinned. “I should leave out the cream and sugar from your coffee then.”
“Don’t get crazy on me.” Leo noticed a couple exiting the apartment building and with a wave hurried back to his station.
Nick leaned his head back against the leather headrest as the driver eased into traffic. Up ahead, near the intersection, he saw the two boys whose shirts he’d autographed dash across the street, several yards short of the crosswalk. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. Man, he had to be getting old lecturing kids about pedestrian safety. What was that about?
The holidays were coming up. That was the problem. He hated this time of year. Part of it for him was the end of the season letdown. Baseball was over until next spring. And although he spent the winter months trying to keep in shape and was able to do a bit of traveling, the downtime always made him restless. Made him think too much. This year was even worse since Billy’s accident a month ago.
Nick stared out the window at the steady drizzle that was beginning to turn into a nightmare for commuters. Why hadn’t he ordered in? It was crazy to go out for dinner in weather like this, especially when he wasn’t even that hungry. Couldn’t he stand his own company for one lousy evening? At least when he was by himself he didn’t have to suffer questions regarding his plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
His teammates and their wives, the media, waiters at restaurants he frequented, even complete strangers, they all wanted to know what he would be doing. Who cared where or if he’d eat a slab of turkey on Thursday?
Ironically, the only people who hadn’t asked were his family. They’d assumed he wouldn’t be going home because he rarely did. He’d had the passing thought of surprising them and showing up on his parents’ doorstep Thanksgiving morning. But then he found out from his sister that they were all headed for the Vermont ski slopes to catch the early snow. All the more ironic, he’d given the whole clan the vacation as a gift last Christmas.
He knew he could tag along. They’d be happy to have him join them, but spending three days in a resort with them along with a bunch of strangers wasn’t what he had in mind. Bad enough he had so little privacy. Hell, maybe he should go to Louisiana and spend the time with Billy and his wife.
He shook his head at the depressing thought. They needed their privacy, too. He couldn’t imagine what the poor guy was going through right now. Though Nick had spent hours with him in the hospital, and Billy’s spirits hadn’t been too bad, by now the shock had to have worn off. Reality would be eating a hole in his gut, as weeks of rehab and his uncertain future lay before him. Hell, Nick was pretty shaken himself, and he wasn’t the one with the mangled arm and leg.
Was he being selfish? Did Billy need privacy, or did he need a friend about now? Damn, Nick was a coward. Seeing Billy laid up had reminded him of his own vulnerability. Of how in a matter of minutes his charmed life could disappear. And then what would he have to fall back on? He hadn’t finished college. All he knew was baseball.
The car stopped, and Nick peered out to see what was holding up traffic, startled to find that they’d already pulled up in front of Orso. The popular restaurant already had a line out the door.
“Should I wait, Mr. Corrigan? Or do you want me to come back in a couple of hours?” the driver asked, meeting Nick’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“No use waiting around.” He dug in his pocket. “Go on home.”
The man blinked. “So you’ll call me when you’re ready?”
“Nope. Take the rest of the night off.”
“But, sir—” He turned around, obviously alarmed. “The service said you needed me for the entire evening.” His eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Nick shook his head. The man was new. Tony normally drove Nick but he’d taken the week off. “Nothing personal. I like taking cabs sometimes. You’ll get paid for the whole night.”
He jumped out with an umbrella when he heard Nick lift the handle. “I wish you’d reconsider,” the driver said while holding the door open and the umbrella aloft. “With this rain, it might be tough to get a cab.”
Nick smiled and tucked a fifty in the guy’s breast pocket. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”
There was always a cab for Nick Corrigan. Or anything else the pride of the Knight’s wanted.
At least for now.
“OH, THIS IS JUST PERFECT,” Emily muttered, tilting her face up to the blackened sky. She’d been in New York for one night and, until now, she’d been lucky.
Raindrops hit her cheeks. Quickly she bowed her head and backed up until she was sheltered by the overhang of the crowded restaurant. She didn’t care if her jeans and sweatshirt got wet, or even her hair. Her only concern was the shopping bags full of silk lingerie, obscenely expensive sweaters and an indecently short dress she was trying to juggle.
If she got them wet, she couldn’t chicken out and take them back tomorrow. Of course the lingerie was a done deal but she wouldn’t return any of those things, anyway. How long had it been since she’d treated herself to anything but granny pants? She felt positively decadent. Now if she could only keep everything dry. It wouldn’t be easy. She’d been waiting for a cab for ten minutes, along with everyone else on West 46th, and the storm had only just started.
A taxi rounded the corner, and she stuck out her arm, tote bags and all, but the cab stopped for someone else half a block away. If only she hadn’t spent so much time at the bookstore she would’ve beaten the rain and been safely back at her hotel by now. Served her right, really. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go near a library, computer or bookstore while she was here. But feeling sorry for herself when the guide she’d hired had stood her up, she’d broken down and popped into the first bookstore she spotted.
She peeked into the large tote bag holding her new dress and the two books she’d purchased. No doubt she’d turned three shades of red while standing in line at the register. She’d almost hidden the one paperback in with her new lingerie until she could pay for it and have the books wrapped, but common sense prevailed. Embarrassment was easier to get over than getting arrested for shoplifting.
Another taxi sped through the intersection. She stepped into the rain to wave the cab down, and the car miraculously stopped in front of her. But before she could get to the back door, two men rushed past her. The one holding an umbrella over the taller man’s head edged her aside and grabbed the door handle.
Emily automatically stepped back, but no. Not this time. “Hey, that’s my cab.”
