Chapter
2
T
he advisor Jenna saw in human resources the following Monday morning was surprised at her sudden decision to leave. “I understand what you mean,” a woman named Henshaw told her as she scanned Jenna's personnel folder that lay open on her desk. The way the older woman said it, it seemed to Jenna that she didn't understand at all. “Sometimes you just need to spread your wings and try something new, I suppose. I would love to find some way to convince you not to go. I've seldom seen such glowing evaluations.” She closed the folder and gazed at Jenna.
“I'm really sorry,” Jenna said, flattered by the woman's kind words, but frustrated at her lack of understanding. “I'm afraid this is something I just have to do.”
“Is it a matter of money?” When Jenna shook her head, Ms. Henshaw continued. “Are you sure? I think we can come up with a nicer package for you.”
When Jenna shook her head again, Ms. Henshaw continued, “All right, then. I'm certain we can make this a leave of absence if that's okay with you. How about we make it six months, renewable for another six if you want it? That way we just might be able to lure you back when you've seen the âbig city.' ”
Jenna wanted to throw her “big city” crack in her face, but she realized that a leave of absence was just what she wanted. Freedom with a safety net. “I think that might work out just fine,” she said, pasting a congenial smile on her face.
For the first time, the woman's face softened. “Good. You know about your non-compete, of course. You can't work for anyone in any of the businesses AAJ's involved in. No trade secrets.”
“Of course not,” Jenna said, disgusted to think that Ms. Henshaw thought for one minute that she'd violate any confidences.
“Well, that's fine, then,” the woman said, her professional smile reappearing.
During the next two weeks Jenna and Marcy spent a considerable amount of time at the mall. Although Ms. Henshaw's “big city” crack had enraged Jenna, she realized that she needed clothes more fitting to life in New York City and her conversations with Chloe had reinforced that fact. Her friend had called the agency she'd found in the paper and relayed to Jenna that there were always temporary openings for experienced translators and the daily fee mentioned was substantial. Of course she'd be paying rent for the first time in her life, and living expenses were going to be more in New York too, but Jenna would cross those bridges when she came to them.
Since most of the time she'd gone to work at AAJ casually dressed in slacks or jeans, cotton shirts or bulky sweaters, she'd need more businesslike clothing for working in Manhattan. The sisters roamed the malls after work, picking up pantsuits with matching, sheer sweaters, slender skirts with matching vests, and, of course, high-heeled shoes and purses to match. In one boutique, Jenna found a beautiful, slender leather belt and, as she handed it to the check-out clerk, she watched Marcy jot down a note in a small notebook. “What are you writing?”
“Just keeping a list of everything and checking what you'll pack and what you'll have to mail.”
Jenna quickly snatched the notebook from her sister's hand. “Stop making lists. It will all come together. I promise.”
Marcy smiled ruefully. “I know. It just helps me to keep from crying. If I can make it all seem like a project, I don't think about the distance from here to New York City.”
“We each have unlimited nationwide calling on our cell phones, so I know we'll talk often,” Jenna said around the lump that had formed in her throat. She handed the notebook back. “Okay, Sis, keep your lists. And I love you for it.” She took her sister's hand and squeezed.
At odd times Jenna found her mind wandering back to Glen. She saw his handsome face, hair falling over his forehead, his deep brown eyes, the sexy dimple in his chin. Was she being a complete ass? Maybe she should call him, try to get him to understand, to wait for her. Wait for what? For her to come back from her silly little excursion to the “big city”? It wasn't just a whim, she told herself over and over. She needed this and it was best for Glen to forget about her. In her heart she halfway hoped he was pining away for her and would wait, desolate, until she came home, if she came home. Whenever she had thoughts like that, however, she chastised herself for her uncharitable ideas and quickly wished that he'd find someone wonderful and create a new relationship.
The Friday before her flight, her friends at work threw a lunch at the best restaurant in town, oddly the same one where, two weeks before, she'd turned Glen down. Everyone brought gag gifts, and by the time all the packages had been opened Jenna had four cans of mace, several sets of sexy lingerie, and a package of locks for her apartment door. One woman had bought an
I Love New York
tote bag and filled it with a flashlight, candles, batteries in three sizes, bottles of water, and over a dozen different varieties of candy. “An emergency kit for blackouts,” she explained. Jenna felt badly that Marcy wasn't at the celebration. “Those are your friends,” she'd said. “Let them enjoy you, and you have fun with them.”
It seemed only moments after the night Glen had proposed that Jenna was at the airport, heading for a commuter flight to LaGuardia. As they approached the security checkpoint, the two women hugged. “This is as far as you can go,” Jenna said. “I'll call ...”
“I know. When you can. I won't count on it and I promise I won't worry.”
Jenna took her sister by the shoulders and turned her back the way they had come. “No long good-byes. So long, Sis,” she said, lightly slapping her on the bottom.
“So long, Jen.”
Jenna put her shoulder bag and purse on the conveyor and walked through the metal detector. As she picked up her things, she looked back. Marcy was waving and, with a damp-eyed grin, Jenna waved back.
Â
Jenna had been in Manhattan several times before on business so she knew her way to baggage claim at LaGuardia Airport. The weather was perfect for a Memorial Day weekend, with temperatures in the high seventies and a clear blue sky with just a few white, puffy clouds. With the one suitcase she'd brought rolling behind her and her carry-on bag and purse over her shoulder, she made her way to the taxi stand and gave the driver Chloe's address. As the taxi drove toward the Midtown Tunnel, Jenna reflected on what she had begun. She'd left her job, packed several boxes and sent them to Chloe's brownstone, and talked to her friend several times, most recently just the previous evening.
“I can't believe you're really coming,” Chloe had said, her tone almost giddy.
“At this time tomorrow I'll be in Manhattan. I'm not sure I can believe it, either. It's really all right, my staying with you until I can find a place?”
“For the 'leventy 'leventh time, yes, it's okay. You can stay as long as you like. I'd love the company, actually. This place is so big I think my voice actually echoes.”
“You're sure you don't need anything? I canâ”
“Stop right now,” Chloe said, interrupting the flow of Jenna's words. “I don't need stuff, I don't need my own space, I don't need anything. I want you here and that's that.”
Jenna knew that she'd said the same things over and over but she needed to be really, really sure it was okay.
“Let it go, Jen. It's a done deal. Just show up tomorrow.”
“Okay, if you're sure.”
“I'm hanging up now. See you tomorrow.”
Jenna replayed the conversation as she watched the familiar skyline slide past the taxi window. This was the right thing to do. She pictured Marcy seated at the tidy desk in her room, poring over her day runner, organizing her tasks for the following week. She saw Glen's hopeful face as he proposed. She'd spotted him in the halls of AAJ twice since that awful evening, but she'd ducked into a side corridor before he'd seen her. He'd called several times during the past two weeks but she'd refused to talk to him. Maybe she was a coward, but it seemed kinder that way, both to him and to herself.
She'd called Marcy from the airport to tell her that she'd arrived safely and the two women promised to call several times during the following week. This would be their first extended separation and, although it was her choice, Jenna was still choked up. Now she was here, she thought, as the taxi arrived at the address she'd given the driver.
She opened the taxi door and stepped out. The brownstone was four stories tall, with two steps leading to a small stoop. She tipped the driver as he set her suitcase beside the front door, and watched him drive away. She was really here. She'd done it. This was day one of the rest of her life. That phrase might be a cliché but it was as true for her as it could be.
She inhaled deeply. She was here, where she belonged. She was startled at the thought but somehow it was true. Manhattan felt like home. Seneca Falls was a small, touristy town, pleasantly nicknamed the Gateway to the Finger Lakes and she'd spent a good deal of time in Syracuse on business. Large as Syracuse was, it was nothing like this. Manhattan hummed with life and action. Sounds of cars, trucks, taxi horns, and garbage cans clanging, interspersed with sirens, pounded the air. The city smelled of pavement, the bagel cart on the corner, and the Pakistani restaurant in the middle of the block. She raised her face to the brilliant blue sky, only a narrow strip of it visible between the buildings, and she couldn't keep from grinning. She was really here. She took a deep gulp of city air and let it out slowly, then pressed the doorbell.
Almost immediately the door flew open and, with an almost childlike squeal, Chloe propelled herself out and threw her arms around her friend. “You made it,” she said.
Jenna leaned down and embraced her. “I did. The flight was uneventful, just the way I like a flight to be.”
Chloe backed up and gazed at her, taking in her bright red Minnie Mouse tee shirt and denim vest over her jeans and sneakers. “You look just terrific,” she said. “It's hard to believe it's been more than nine years since Albany.”
Jenna hugged her again. Chloe's lush figure was barely contained in a pair of navy blue short shorts, a white tank top covered with a sheer, kelly green overshirt, tied beneath her breasts. Her auburn hair was seemingly uncombed, a riot of curls all over her head. Her feet were bare and Jenna could see that her manicured toenails were the same shade of shocking coral as her fingernails. “Closer to eleven, but who's counting. Anyway, Chloe, we've seen each other lots of times since then. Every time I've been in New York, actually.”
“Right, all three times. I'm just glad you're here.”
“I'm glad you're glad,” Jenna said, shaking her head in wonder. “You haven't changed, you know. You still look about sixteen years old.” She knew that, like she and her sister, Chloe was in her early thirties.
Chloe shook her head sadly. “I still get proofed at most of the places I go. It's the bane of my existence.”
“Most people would love that. I always envied you. All the guys in school wanted to cuddle and cosset you, but you kept it all under control. Me? All they wanted to do was get help with their assignments.”
“They still want to cuddle and cosset me, and more,” Chloe said, then grabbed Jenna's arm and pulled. “Come inside and let's really catch up.”
Jenna walked through a small entryway with black and white checkerboard tile and a small chandelier. Chloe led her past a spacious living room, furnished with homey pieces that made you want to sit down and curl up. Two large, gray upholstered chairs, a leather lounger, and an overstuffed sofa upholstered in a rose and gray tweed and covered with a dozen pillows in various shades and patterns, all in black and white. A fifty-two-inch TV set stood in the corner, and when Jenna admired it, Chloe said that she had a friend who loved sports and had bought it for her so they could watch together. As Jenna took a breath to ask about the friend, Chloe said, “Come on back to the kitchen. I'll show you around in a little while, but let's take some time to catch up first.”
As she walked through, Jenna fell in love with the house. Warmth and charm seemed to radiate from the very walls. The kitchen was small but contained all the necessary appliances, including a microwave with more controls than a small jet plane and something Chloe called a convection oven. “I don't cook much, but when I do leftovers and TV dinners, those are the best and fastest.” The
pièce de résistance
was the small garden in the back of the building, accessed by a door covered by a wrought-iron trellis which, Jenna imagined, was both protective as well as decorative. “I love what I've seen so far, especially this backyard.” Jenna pointed to the door that led out the back. “May I?”
“Sure. The key's on the hook.” Jenna dropped her suitcase on a kitchen chair and grabbed the key. She quickly unlocked the backdoor and stepped outside. “This is amazing,” she said as Chloe followed her into the miniature garden, surrounded by a seven-foot-tall fence of classically weathered wood. The late spring air was thick with the smell of roses from several climbing vines that snaked their way up the brick wall, almost covering the kitchen window. “I have to keep cutting them or I wouldn't be able to see out at all,” Chloe said, following Jenna's gaze.