New Amsterdam: Tess (12 page)

“Thirty-nine. What about you, Tess?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Thessaly asks, “What’s with your cardboard sign?”

“Just a project.”

“About love?”

“Love is all you need.” Lucas smirks.

“So, where do you go when you’re not here?”

“Battery Park.”

“Like the actual park?”

“No. Like an actual apartment building.”

Thessaly asks, “And when will you leave?”

“As soon as the story is complete.”

Nodding in sarcasm, Thessaly says, “Gotcha.” She glances at her watch and then announces, “Lucas, it’s been real.”

“Thanks for the snacks, Tess Santiago.” Tilting his head in the direction of the cardboard sign, Lucas adds, “Thoughts?”

“Oh, no! I mean, I have to get to a meeting like five minutes ago. Have a nice day, Lucas.”

In a gravelly voice, Lucas demands, “Be sure and tell ‘em Large Marge sent ya.”

“Good one!” she yells back over her shoulder.

Walking north with a huge grin, she hails a cab to TriBeCa. It’s a rare occasion for her not to walk, but running late for a meeting with one of her favorite clients demands a taxi escort. Seated in the backset with no air, Thessaly fans herself with an Arby’s flyer left on the seat while answering a call from Mason.

“Hi, Mason,” she says.

“Tess! Come to the Hamptons with me this weekend. It’ll be like our first summer in New York.”

“I can’t, Shelby’s in town.”

“How’s that kid doing? Is he a doctor yet?”

“Nope, a few more years.” Moving the phone away from her mouth, Thessaly snaps at the cabbie, “Houston.”

“Then how about dinner? I need to ask you something very important.”

“I have dinner plans tonight – can we meet for drinks?”

“If that’s all I can get, I’ll gladly accept.”

Enjoying the humbler side of Mason, Thessaly smiles. “Okay, how about Divinity? Seven o’clock?”

“Perfect. And Tess?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“You saw me two nights ago!”

“I want to see you every day.”

“Are you high?”

“You’re so sexy.”

“Are you drunk?”

“God, I need to fuck you.”

Thessaly glances out the backseat window and spots a coffee house with the word
BOLD
painted on a chalkboard display. “And I told you I want to start dating,” she responds.

“Then date me,” Mason pleads.

“I’ll see you later, Mason.”

Ending the call and laughing to herself, Thessaly pulls six dollars from her bag. As the taxi stops, she thrusts the cash through the partition and jumps out the door. Houston is a wide street, and her idiot driver took the easy route by dropping her off on the northwest corner. Sandwiched between fifty other sweating New Yorkers, she shuffles across the street with a deep scowl. Today is one of those days that’s humid, hot, and stale – the trifecta of Manhattan misery.

Pushing past a few tourists unfolding maps, Thessaly arrives at the glossy blue door of Les Étoiles. She’s known the owners since her days as a vendor for King’s Market, and often provided food services for their show on The Food Network. Pete and Marta Fuchs are one of those power couples – gorgeous, smart, and incredibly talented. And last summer, when they launched their fine-dining restaurant, Thessaly was the first to offer a list of connections.

Opening the door, she’s immediately greeted by Pete, wearing a yellow apron and a Penn State baseball cap. “Hey, Tess.” Pete wipes his hands on his apron before giving her a side hug. “Sorry for the time change, but Marta is on bedrest and she demanded I come in and do the dinner prep.”

“It’s fine, really. When is she due?”

“Six more weeks,” he answers.

“That’s so exciting!”

“Um, it will be. But right now she has me prepping for dinners, washing clean laundry, and then running around TriBeCa buying random things for the nursery – here, have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

“Water would be great.” Sitting down at a table for two, Thessaly removes her iPad and scrolls through her product list.

Arriving at the table with a pitcher of blackberry-cucumber-infused water and two tall glasses, Pete sits across from Thessaly and sighs. “God, I’m tired.”

“I can only imagine.” She pours water into each glass and then says, “Hey, I read a great review about your summer brunch in New York Foodie.”

“Yeah, that was quite a surprise. That critic despises me – like vowed to destroy me three years ago when I fired him from our show.”

“That’s funny.”

“Ironic, too. That review went live online the same day we decided to eliminate brunch . . . which is why I called this meeting.”

“Oh?”

“Tess, Marta and I think of you as our friend – and I’d be lying if I said we didn’t consider the effects on your business when we made the decision to decrease table service. But with the baby coming, and my associate that handles the PR living in San Francisco, we have to take a few steps back.”

“Yikes, this is one of those firing meetings.”

“I feel awful – I should’ve bought you a steak dinner first.”

“I get it, Pete.” Thessaly takes a sip of water and clears her throat. “May I ask if you’re eliminating honey and jam from your entire menu?”

“Not completely, but comparing costs and negotiating with our produce vendor, we were able to get locally-harvested honey added to every order starting in a few weeks – practically for free.”

“Oh, well I can’t compete with free. Are you still buying your produce from New Jersey Nick?”

“Nah, we’ve been using Brooklyn Soil. Do you know it?”

Looking up from his laptop, Seth asks, “Tess, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Where’s Meg?”

He points to the kitchen door and replies, “In there prepping the jars.”

Thessaly drops her bag on the island and heads to the kitchen. Distressed, she sighs and whines, “Meg.”

“Hey – I thought you were taking a personal day.” Meg aligns a row of sterilized lids on a dishtowel and then crosses her arms.

“Pete’s dropping us in September.”

“What? Why?”

“They’re eliminating weekend brunch.”

“Well, that sucks. I’ve been trying to get reservations for weeks – the French toast is to die for!” Noticing Thessaly’s body language, she adds, “But they should still need honey.”

Thessaly scrunches her nose and groans. “Pete negotiated a free supply through his produce vendor.”

“I’m sorry, Tess. I can line up a list for new proposals this weekend,” Meg offers.

“Meg, the honey is coming from Levi’s farm.”

“Since when?”

“Since, now.”

“That sexy, sneaky bastard. Do you think he’s a mole?” Meg asks, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what to think, honestly. He’s asked me a few questions, but I just assumed it was an interest in me and not the honey business.” Slumping over and turning ashen, Thessaly adds, “Oh, shit. I’m going to be sick.”

“Tess, don’t think the worst, please. I’m just a horrible person that believes people generally suck.”

Removing her phone from her pocket, Thessaly pecks at the screen and says, “I’m going to text him. I have to know.”

Tess: Does your farm have honey?

Thessaly shows the text to Meg before hitting send. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she waits for his reply.

Levi: Not yet. But I’ll show you the apiary tonight.

“Is he lying?”

“Why would he lie?” Meg counters.

Rubbing her temples, Thessaly mutters, “I’m so confused. And dehydrated.”

Meg grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator and opens it. “Drink up. And then go home. Are you seeing him tonight?”

Gulping back half of the water, she shakes her head. “I was invited to the rooftop’s dinner party – I’ll see how I feel.”

“You should definitely go. Corner him. Rip his clothes off and interrogate him. Interrogate him real good.”

“Are you insane?” Thessaly shudders.

“I’m sane. Tess, relax.” Pointing to the crates of peaches stacked in the corner, Meg adds, “And I think everything with Levi is peachy.”

“Your puns really suck.”

“But you’re smiling?” Meg teases.

Of course the peaches make her smile – any time she thinks of Levi she smiles. But the constant spontaneity of emotions and actions scare her. At least with Mason, things are simple.

Grabbing the bottle of water, Thessaly says, “Shit, I need to meet Shelby at my apartment. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I’ll stop by the store tomorrow afternoon. I’d love to see Dr. Shelby and ask him about this weird bump on my leg.” Meg lifts her leg and points to a red blemish.

“He wants to be a neurosurgeon, but I’m sure Shelby would love to look at your legs.”

“Tess, will you talk to Levi sooner than later?”

“Promise,” Thessaly agrees, patting Meg’s shoulder as she leaves the kitchen.

Helping a customer at the register, Seth nods to Thessaly as she walks out the door.

Focused on her thoughts, Thessaly makes her way up Fulton in a daze. If she were to make a pro/con list for Levi, and one for Mason, the results would be the same, yet entirely opposite. Both men put their heart into their careers, although one makes work his primary focus. Both men appear to like sex, although one has yet to make the move and the other has no
new
moves. Both men send flowers, although one sends delicate, pink peonies, and the other brings a bouquet of wildflowers.

Before she enters her building, Thessaly checks to see if Lucas is still in the alcove. Maybe she seeks his advice, or maybe she needs to know the answer to love. But to her surprise, he’s not there. The sleeping bag and the cardboard sign rest against the wall, but his other belongings, as well as her Thermos and basket, are not to be seen.

Maybe he’s on a bathroom break
, she thinks.

“Tess!”

Thessaly turns toward the familiar voice to find her baby brother, Shelby. Crossing the street with a black duffel bag and a Papaya Dog hot dog, he embraces his sister in an open hug and smiles.

“I see you found a healthy snack,” Thessaly jokes.

Taking a bite, Shelby mutters, “I had to wait in line for twenty minutes, but yeah, this shit is good.”

The two siblings take the elevator up to Thessaly’s apartment while Thessaly apologizes. “I’m meeting Mason for drinks – you’re welcome to come, but I think he’d prefer if you didn’t.”

“No thanks, I’ll find something to do.”

Unlocking the apartment door and giving Shelby the key, Thessaly suggests, “There’s usually an outdoor concert on Friday nights, or I could have Meg and Seth meet up with you for dinner.”

“Yeah, I don’t know them. Do they live in your building?”

Thessaly slaps his arm and yells, “Meg and Seth. From the shop!”

“Whoa, I completely forgot about them.” Tossing his bag on the floor next to the couch and combing the refrigerator for a beer, Shelby whines, “Cider all you got?”

“Vodka’s in the cabinet.”

Shutting the refrigerator door and crossing his arms, Shelby laughs. “Do I look like Aunt Jenny watching soap operas?”

Thessaly snorts and shrugs her shoulders. “Plenty of men enjoy vodka. And I
love
vodka.”

Kicking off his sneakers, Shelby shakes his head and says, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Hurry up!” she demands.

Shelby closes the bathroom door behind him while Thessaly rummages through her closet. She removes a sleeveless navy dress that barely hits her knees, but Mason will enjoy the classic color with a flash of skin.

As she places her phone in the charger, it vibrates with a text from Levi.

Levi: Lobster. Corn. Blueberry pie.

Tess: I might be late. Don’t wait for me.

Levi: Pie, Tess. We have pie.

Chapter Nine

The dinner scene on a Friday night in the Financial District is similar to a college reunion. Even in a city with eight-million people, it’s easy to run into a dozen familiar faces before the night is over. Thessaly waves to a few ladies she knows from her former tennis club, and then joins Mason and two men nursing whiskey sours.

This is the second time this week a date has been foiled by other guests.

“Tess,” Mason says, standing from his chair to greet her. Mason places his hands on the waist of her little blue dress and kisses her quickly on the mouth. Taking her hand and turning back around to the table of men, he adds, “Gentlemen, we’ll need our table now.”

Gathering their drinks, the men stand from the table and stare at Thessaly with approval. “Good choice, Andrews,” says the man with the plaid bowtie. “See you out east tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure, Clyde,” Mason replies, pulling out a seat for Thessaly. “Have a splendid weekend, gentlemen,” he adds, joining Thessaly’s side.

As the two men finally stagger away, Mason turns to Thessaly and apologizes. “I had to invite them over for a few minutes – the tall guy gave me a promotion.”

“It’s fine, really. I don’t expect you to ever be some place and not know at least ten people. You’re the homecoming king of Wall Street,” she teases.

“All I care about is my queen – you look absolutely stunning, Tess.” Mason strokes Thessaly’s wrist with his index finger and smiles. “Can I order you a drink?”

“Please, and I’d love something to eat.”

“I thought you said you had dinner plans?”

“I’m not sure now – do you have time for dinner?”

“Absolutely.” Snapping at the waitress, Mason says, “But we’ll need champagne.”

Placing a napkin in her lap, Thessaly asks, “What’s the occasion?”

“Let’s just say, I have a very tempting proposal in mind.”

Arriving at the table, the waitress fills a water glass for Thessaly and turns to Mason. “Can I get you something else to drink?”

“We would like a bottle of Moët, please,” he orders.

“Of course,” she replies.

Waiting for the waitress to leave, Thessaly teases, “You’re being uncharacteristically sappy, Mason. What’s going on?”

Taking her hand and shifting his body to look directly in her eyes, Mason reveals, “I’m moving to London. And I want you to go with me.”

“What?”

“It’s only a temporary move, but we could live in a flat and drink tea and go to Chelsea games.”

“But I live here now, Mason.”

Dismissing her comment, he says, “You’re only renting, Tess.”

“But my business!” she bursts.

“Tess, you’ll love London – it’s like New York but cleaner.”

“Mason, I’m shocked. You know I love you, but I can’t just pack up my shop and move to London.”

Thessaly’s phone buzzes with a text, followed by a phone call.

“Tess, please don’t answer the phone,” Mason pleads.

When her phone buzzes with a series of texts, Thessaly drops her head to read the screen. “Hang on,” she apologizes.

Meg: Urgent!!

Meg: Christina overdosed!!

Levi: Do I need to carry you to Brooklyn?

Meg: Meet us at Presbyterian

Meg: 14
^th
Street

Meg: Hurry!

“Mason, I’m sorry, but I have to go. It’s an emergency.” Thessaly places her napkin on the table and stands.

Huffing, Mason rises and tosses his napkin on the table. “I’ll come with you,” he offers.

“No, please. Can I call you tomorrow?” Thessaly asks, grabbing her clutch and heading toward the front of the restaurant.

“But I need an answer,” Mason insists as he walks behind her.

“I need time to think, Mason,” she says over her shoulder.

“Tess, this should be easy.”

Thessaly stops, turns to face Mason, and smirks. She places her hand on the sleeve of his expensive shirt and laughs. “It’s actually too easy, Mason.”

“Then you’ll come to London?” He smiles hopefully.

“We’ll talk tomorrow – I have to go.” Thessaly whips back around as Mason grabs her arm. She shakes him off and darts out the door to the restaurant.

Hailing a cab, Thessaly crawls into the backseat, calms her shaking hands, and then returns a text to Meg.

Tess: I’m on my way. Any updates?

Meg: The doctor mentioned a coma. Lois is freaking the fuck out.

Tess: Shit. Keep her calm.

“Fourteenth, please. New York Presbyterian Emergency Room,” Thessaly instructs the cab driver. “And hurry,” she adds.

Thessaly rereads the last text from Levi. She wants to reply, but the distractions and current stressful situation are preventing her from forming an appropriate reply. So instead, she opens the photo of them taken on the yacht and begins to sob.