Authors: Missy Fleming
D
uncan parked in front of his old home in Astoria, about forty-five minutes outside the city. Frowning, he made a mental list of what needed to be done—the grass too long, paint peeling on the trim, and the gutter hanging off at an odd angle. He growled. If Leslie would get over herself, he could fix the place up for her, for them.
He rubbed his hands over his face, wondering why the hell he was here.
Being with Olivia the other night stirred up a lot of dirty laundry. She had arrived on the other side of their shared nightmare, well on the road to healing, while he was still mucking through the middle. A blindfold he didn’t realize he was wearing had been lifted, shining a spotlight on his hideous shortcomings.
The bottle of pills on the console, within arm’s reach, called to him. It’d be easy to swallow three, maybe four, before stepping into the house, but Leslie would know. Somehow she always did and he refused to give her any more ammo to use against him.
“Shit,” Duncan muttered as he got out of the truck and slammed the door. Clenching his fists, he ambled up the walkway to ring the doorbell.
Of his own goddamn house. Completely messed up.
His twelve-year-old son, Adam, opened the door and the boy’s expression turned wary. “Dad, what are you doing here?”
Adam snuck a glance over his shoulder and Duncan buried his snarl, hating that he’d become the unwanted stranger. They were his kids. Why did he feel as if visiting them was the worst thing imaginable?
Because when it comes to you it is, a voice told him.
Adam’s wavy black hair matched Duncan’s, but he possessed his mom’s cool gray eyes. Unfortunately his hair and a tall, lanky frame were the only things the kid inherited from him. Or maybe it was fortunate. He sure as hell hoped neither of his children ended up like him.
“I came to see you and your sister.” Duncan planted his hands on his hips, arming himself for the coming battle. “You gonna let me in?”
“Who is it, sweetie?”
Leslie approached behind their son and fixed Duncan with a hard stare. In the space of two seconds, she made him feel inadequate, less than nothing. The joke was on her. He didn’t need her icy assessment to make him feel that way. He should have taken the pills.
“Leslie,” he greeted. “I had the day off and wanted to see the kids.”
“You can’t come by unannounced, Duncan. That’s not how it works.”
He tried to answer, but she still took his breath away and his mouth filled with cotton. Leslie’s hair was dark brown, almost black, and cut in a short, angled style, something new and flattering, the ends brushing her jaw. With a slight frame and freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, she looked the same as she did in high school. Except her eyes. They held the pain of someone who’d experienced untold misery.
“Yeah, I forgot,” he finally blurted.
She sighed heavily and studied him, surely looking for any sign he might be high or drunk. Satisfied, she opened the screen door to let him in and Adam retreated into the living room.
The house was so familiar and yet entirely different. Only now, his FDNY plaques were at his crappy apartment, along with his crappy recliner. One of the happiest days of his adult life had been signing the deed to this, his first house, the home he and Leslie started their life in. Ironically, it also became the place he destroyed a life in. Four lives, to be precise.
Adam sat on the couch playing a video game, something set in a zombie-infested apocalyptic world, and ignored Duncan. Leslie hovered nearby, refusing to take her eyes off him.
When had things gotten this awkward with his family? Was he too stoned to notice?
Finally, Leslie said, “Adam, why don’t you turn the game off while your dad’s here.”
Giving a deep sigh, his son switched off the TV and watched Duncan with a timid expression. Duncan perched on the adjacent couch and tried to remember when he last talked to either of his children. His memories were hazy.
Jesus, Leslie was right. He’d become a horrible father.
“How’s school?”
Dumb question number one from good old Dad, Duncan thought.
Adam shrugged his bony shoulders. “It’s summer break. I graduated middle school last week. There was a ceremony,” he answered in a small voice.
Duncan’s stomach clenched. Oh God, it was June, wasn’t it? He shot a stormy glare at Leslie. “Why didn’t you tell me about graduation?”
“I left you three messages.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared down her nose at him.
He missed his son’s eighth grade graduation. Covering his face with both hands, Duncan tried to smother the self-loathing. A cold ball of shame curled in his gut, eating at him from the inside. Nausea threatened to bring the ball up his throat. Whenever he thought his actions couldn’t get any worse, he pushed it a step further. To avoid more guilt, and the pain hearing her voice caused, he screened all calls from Leslie, ignoring her until it was too late or simply deleting them.
Glancing at Adam, he noticed the boy trying hard to be indifferent, but his emotions showed in the way he chewed his lip, a habit he inherited from his mother.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Must have been busy at work. How about we go pick out a graduation present?” Because buying forgiveness was the only idea he had left.
Adam shrugged his shoulder again, but Duncan saw the curiosity and pounced on it.
“Come on, I’m sure there’s something you can’t live without.”
“There’s this new video game?” The request was more of a tentative question.
He didn’t understand kids and their obsession with gaming, he spent his youth outside playing sports and being active, but it was an opening and he’d take it. Duncan turned his gaze to Leslie. “Is it okay?”
Her eyes narrowed as she searched for any reason to say no. “If you’re not gone too long. Adam, put your shoes on.”
Adam trudged into the hall and Duncan stood, choosing to ignore his son’s lack of enthusiasm over hanging out with him. “Where’s Amanda? Please tell me I didn’t miss anything else important.”
“Amanda’s with friends.” Leslie advanced on him and lowered her voice. “How could you forget something so important? We don’t matter to you at all anymore, do we?”
“That’s not true. I’m here now, dammit.”
“And why is that, Duncan? Because you’re sober enough today to remember your kids? Because you feel a tiny inkling of obligation?”
“I tried to call and talk to you last Wednesday night, but you didn’t give me a chance.” He grunted. “Maybe I needed to be with them.”
“Let me guess.” Her sad laugh pounded into him, quick painful jabs. “A tough fire, people died, you felt bad, blah, blah, blah. We’re not here to be a salve to your wounds. You have to want to see your kids on the good
and
bad days.”
Out of the blue, Olivia’s face popped into his mind. “I saw someone I wasn’t expecting. It’s made me think a lot about the past, about the things I’ve screwed up, and how I can fix it.”
Leslie blinked a couple times, indicating he’d thrown her off balance. It was the most honest thing he’d said to her in quite a while. After a few seconds, her eyes glazed over again.
“Did it have to do with 9/11?”
“So?” He hated how well she read him.
“Why does it always circle around to that day?”
“You know goddamn well why.” Her complete lack of understanding fueled the rage inside him. This was what it boiled down to, her blindness. He loved her, God help him, he always would, but she could not comprehend why he continued to suffer. Between that and his pitiful habits, things were too far gone to fix. A truth he both loathed and accepted.
Leslie stood toe to toe with him. “All I know is you blame it for every single one of your problems. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to your children. We can’t live up to it.”
“Mom?” Adam’s nervous voice interrupted them and Duncan fought hard to reel in his anger.
He watched Leslie wrap an arm around their son. “Everything’s okay. I’m giving your dad a hard time for missing a very important day in your life. And convincing him he needs to buy you a couple games instead of one.”
“Video games aren’t healthy for him, Les. He should be outside...” She silenced him with a hard glare. “Okay, okay. Adam, I’ll buy you as many games as you want, even a cheeseburger after.”
Hope leapt into Adam’s eyes and a huge crack formed in the walls around Duncan’s heart.
He grinned at his son and added, “Maybe a strawberry milkshake, too.”
A happy smile was his reward and he realized how much the kid had grown. They were almost eye to eye and once the pre-teen awkwardness wore off, Adam would be tall, same as him. Duncan had to do better by his kids. God knew he didn’t deserve it, but he wouldn’t stop trying to win their love. Not this time.
He opened the front door and ushered his son out, feeling lighter than he had in months. As he got in the truck, his eyes didn’t stray to the pill bottle once.
It was going to be a good evening.
T
he building on Seventy-Sixth Street left Olivia feeling wary and uncertain. At first glance, it needed more love and care than she initially thought, boards over the windows and graffiti splattered along the side, but after a closer look, she saw past the cracked brick walls and rotted roof. She recognized the strong bones, envisioning what it could be once finished. Then it hit her. She was the building; rough around the edges, waiting to discover her potential. No wonder she’d become so invested in the project.
A sleek, black car pulled up and Simon stepped out, focusing his attention on her.
“You look terrible.”
“Just what a girl needs to hear,” Olivia threw back.
“What I mean is, I know how hard you’ve been working. Have you even slept?”
“Not much. I’m too excited. This is my baby.”
Simon glanced over at the building and scrunched his nose. “The roof is rotting.”
“Oh, hush. It has such a lovely structure, a strong foundation. And the windows? Bay windows, Simon. Notice the original brick work? You don’t find that these days, not in the land of gleaming steel and concrete.”
He continued to scowl at the sight. “There was a building like this in my neighborhood growing up. At night, we heard screams coming from the basement.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Fine, don’t believe me, but when we get wind of a serial killer holed up in the boiler room and the FBI descends on us, don’t come crying to me.”
He bumped her with his shoulder until she shook her head and grinned. Everything he did confused her, veering from egocentric asshole to teasing her literally overnight. Still, she remembered the way he treated her the first time they met and resolved to keep the walls up until he proved their shaky friendship was real.
“Speaking of cruel and unusual torture, you need to stop with the goodies.” Simon rubbed a hand over his flat stomach. “I’m going to get fat.”
“Don’t blame me because you have zero self-control.” She shot him a smirk. “Just say no.”
“Isn’t that something I should tell you?”
Heat flared in her cheeks and she entertained the urge to drive her heel into his foot. If she hadn’t seen the twinkle in his eye, she would have succumbed to the act with glee.
“Careful, I might slip a laxative into your next cupcake.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. She resisted the urge to join in and redirected her attention on her project.
“Why are you here? Other than to criticize and mock.”
“Doug told me you’d be down here.”
“And?” She looked back at him expectantly.
“And this beautiful eyesore is yours.”
“That was fast.”
“The power of being a Van den Berg.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Last obstacle is the current tenants.”
“Thomas is in there now taking care of them. Only three of the apartments were decent enough to be occupied. He’s offering enough money that I don’t think they’ll stick around too long.”
“Until then all we can do are little things. At least the businesses on the ground floor are vacant so we won’t be wasting much time there.”
Thomas strolled out the front entrance tucking papers into his briefcase. “We’re good to go. The residents are happy with the money and looking forward to upgrading a little.”
Ever since the project started rolling, Thomas had been less than enthusiastic. Olivia suspected it had more to do with Simon’s involvement than hers. At least, she hoped it was Simon and not anything she was doing wrong. When Thomas did help, he spent most of his time complaining about everything from Simon to the state of the city’s streets. The man had changed. A lot.
“I’ll give these to the lawyers. I don’t foresee any of the remaining tenants sticking around long.” Thomas kept his conversation directed at Olivia, not even acknowledging Simon’s presence.
“Great, thanks for handling it, Thomas,” Simon said. Thomas walked right past him without a word.
Once they were alone, Simon grumbled, “I don’t understand what his problem is. I’ve tried promoting him, including him in big deals, but nothing works. He’s a pompous asshole.”
“He’s frustrated because you’re in the position he should have inherited after my father died and again after my grandmother retired. Probably feels as if he was passed over.” She took a cue from him and nudged him with her elbow. “How would you feel?”
“You’re not supposed to be reasonable and snatch the wind from my tirade. That’s mean.”
“Aren’t you a little old for tirades?” Her lip twitched in an effort to grin. Teasing him was too easy, an unsettling combination for two reasons; she wasn’t sure he accepted her place at VDB yet and because he was a tempting package. She already had one attractive puzzle to figure out with Duncan. Two sounded like a perfect recipe for stress.
“I appreciate the fact our architect is salivating over this, but I don’t get it.” Simon peered at the building again.
“You have no vision,” she chided. “I mean, you saw the plans he drew up, right? Those apartments on the top floor are going to have gorgeous natural light. And we won’t have to change this brick façade, only update it. The third floor apartments even have original crown molding, which is impossible to find in a building that has changed hands as often as this one.”
Simon studied her for a few moments before saying, “I don’t doubt their ability, or yours. I guess I’ll just wait and see how impressive it is when it’s done, then you can gloat to your heart’s desire.” He loosened his tie. “Do you really think it’s smart to keep the apartments, what was the word you used … quirky?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “This building is nearly a hundred years old. Sleek and modern won’t work here. You have to stay true to the character and keep that vibe. It’s perfectly acceptable to have an upgraded kitchen
and
save the antique crown molding.” She tossed him a horrified look. “I bet you live in a stark, boring apartment with chrome everywhere.”
“I thought we were past judging each other. And so what if I like new things? Technology rocks.”
“Let me guess, you’re a gadget freak?”
“Yes. Have to own the newest phone, TV, you name it.” He held up a finger. “But I will forever argue that music sounds better on vinyl compared to a CD or MP3. Oh, and classic muscle cars. Can’t beat those. See? I have a little renaissance man in me.”
“And a talent for surprising me.”
She caught him smiling at her and raised her eyebrows in question.
“You really know what you’re talking about. Not about me, obviously, but about this place.”
“You don’t have to sound so startled.” He snickered and Olivia put a lid on the flutter that skittered in her stomach.
“Are you going to keep babysitting me?”
“Babysitting?” He placed a hand on his chest. “You mistake my interest, Miss Van den Berg.”
“You’re a CEO, Mr. Greene. You don’t bother yourself with little community projects. You have a whole division to do it for you.”
“Little community project? This place is going to end up costing millions.”
“Please. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? That’s a drop in the bucket for VDB.”
Simon shrugged, hiding his intentions well. “If this works, I suspect you’ll be looking into other buildings?” He pinned her with his blue-eyed stare and she found herself fidgeting with the buttons of her blouse.
“Actually, I already have. There’s an abandoned warehouse in the Meat Packing District. I’m sure you’ve heard how that area has exploded into a revamped, hip neighborhood. The property is amazing, with a great location. There’s a lot of potential for residential and commercial investments. Mixed-use living is becoming more and more popular, especially with our generation. Combine that with eco-friendly upgrades and the units will sell like crazy.”
He was about to reply when his phone rang. “Simon Greene,” he answered.
She turned to give him privacy and considered the building once more. Even when this was finished and they moved on to the next, she’d always think of it as her baby. She pictured a small florist shop on the street level, maybe a bookshop, something fun, a small business with an inviting atmosphere to bring the neighborhood together. Her thoughts drifted to the bakery she imagined owning one day.
She’d put vibrant potted flowers on the sidewalk, maybe a wrought iron bench for customers to sit and linger, or a handful of small bistro tables, water in a bowl for dogs to drink as their masters ate. The inside would be quaint, filled with delicious aromas and an eclectic, organic menu—maybe even gluten-free or vegan options too. She’d hire someone with an affinity for decorating cakes, with a talent to create masterpieces. Her soul reached out, aching to grab hold of the distant dream.
“Son of a bitch. Casualties?”
Simon’s raised voice drew Olivia’s interest. From his murderous, devastated expression, he appeared ready to punch the crumbling wall of her building.
“What kind of problem?” His face grew pale as he listened. “I’ll be right there.”
Simon ended the call with a string of curses.
“Everything okay?”
He laced his hands together behind his head and stared up at the sky. “That was the construction foreman for our downtown project, a high rise on Warren Street in the financial district. Something happened with the tower crane. It fell twenty stories, ripping up the finished levels, before crashing into the street.”
“No,” she gasped, her head buzzing. “Is anyone hurt?”
“He doesn’t think there are any fatalities, so far.”
“How?” Her mind regressed to another building.
“They’re trying to figure it out. Only happened thirty minutes ago.” His lips thinned and her heart sank, realizing more bad news was coming. “What makes it worse is when they called the insurance company to report it, the insurance adjuster said the policy was canceled or lapsed. I’m sure it’s a mix up, but I have to go. Take the town car, I’ll grab a taxi.”
“Nonsense, I’m coming with you.”
He didn’t argue as he held the door for her, barking orders to the driver. The entire car ride, Simon remained silent, staring at the passing scenery as his leg bounced relentlessly. What a nightmare.
“Has this happened before?”
“No,” he snapped before reining his impatience back in. “Not on my watch.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She patted his arm, but he kept his attention on the window, a ball of nervous energy.
Olivia knew from a couple blocks away it was going to be bad. Traffic became more snarled the closer they got, creeping to a standstill. At Simon’s incessant prodding, the driver managed to bypass the clogged street and deposit them closer to the scene. Simon exited and she followed. The air was filled with sirens and shouts, the hum of voices. Looking at the half-finished building, her breaths came in quick pants. A huge scar, at least ten stories long, had been ripped into the outer walls.
“This is going to be a major headache,” Simon muttered. He glanced at her, assessing. “You don’t have to be here.”
She couldn’t answer, her mouth was dry and unresponsive. She took in the rescue vehicles and the hulking ruin of the tower crane resting halfway into the street, twisted and crinkled like it’d been tossed by a giant and pinning cars underneath. Pieces of their building littered the structures surrounding it.
“Olivia?” Simon stepped into her line of vision. “What’s wrong?”
“My parents are in the building,” she whispered, trying to grasp why the statement felt wrong.
He glanced up, then to her. “Shit. Liv, look at me.” He shook her slightly and she managed to focus a bit. “This is not the World Trade Center. You’re fine, you’re safe.”
He was right. She was in the present, shivering in the warm summer sun. “I, I’m sorry, I should go. I won’t be any help here.”
“I’ve got this under control. When I know more, I’ll call you. I promise.” Simon turned to walk away before turning back. “Making it this far is a big deal, considering what you’ve been through. Catherine told me you were there, at Ground Zero. I respect you for even trying.”
With that, he rushed off, disappearing around the side of an ambulance. Olivia lifted a shaking hand, sweeping her hair away from her face. Logically, she knew this situation was different. Telling her feet, getting her body to move in the direction of the building, however, proved to be a bigger challenge. Shame engulfed her, urging her forward. Instead, she pivoted and slunk into the car.
Almost nine years later and she still crumbled. Impressive, Olivia, she chastised herself. Right when she thought she had a handle on things her carefully constructed world tumbled down, like a ruined piece of machinery broken in the street. She fiddled with her phone, then, in a flat voice, directed the driver to take her to a meeting.