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“You do get football at your place?” my dad asked, sounding the least bit panicked.
“Of course I do, Dad. It’s on network TV. But they have cable at the hotel, just in case. I’m not sure whether or not we’ll get the Texas game Friday, though.”
“We’ll be out sightseeing and shopping Friday,” Mom declared. “And I’m glad you’ll be able to join us, Ethan. But aren’t you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She was in full-on mother-hen mode. I could only imagine what she’d think about Owen, a true orphan.
“My parents are taking a cruise this year.”
“Then it’s good you don’t have to be alone. You’ll have to join us.”
Ethan pulled up in front of the hotel, which was in a brownstone building much like my apartment, and helped unload the bags. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Katie,” he said.
“Thanks again for your help.” I was relieved that he didn’t try to kiss me. Not that I didn’t want to kiss him; I just didn’t want to have to deal with my parents asking me about the state of our relationship. As it was, things were nice and ambiguous.
I was watching him drive away when Mom said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
She pointed toward a nearby tree. “That.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I caught the briefest glimpse of a gargoyle’s wing.
I turned back to my mother, horror knotting my stomach. “What did you see?” She could not have seen a gargoyle. She just couldn’t. Hell, she was in New York City for the first time in her life. There were any number of things she could have seen that would have shocked her. A careening taxicab with an ad for a strip club on top would have been enough to give her the vapors.
My dad gave a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t mind her. She’ll be seeing a mugger behind every tree. I had to confiscate her pepper spray before we left for the airport.” He took Mom by the shoulders and turned her to face the hotel entrance. “Come on, Lois, let’s get checked in.” He caught my eye over the top of her head and gave me a smile as he shook his head in amusement.
With a great sense of relief, I stepped forward and picked up one of their bags. “In this part of town, we only have muggers behind every other tree, and that’s only on odd-numbered streets, so you’ll be okay here,” I said.
I got them checked into the hotel, then led them down the street to my apartment building. “I live less than a block away, so this is the next best thing to staying with me,” I said, trying to sound chipper, even as I dreaded them seeing the way I lived. My parents were nowhere near rich, but they lived in the lap of luxury, comparatively speaking. My whole apartment could easily fit into the living room of my parents’ house.
I reached the doorway to the side of the nail salon. “Here we are. See, this key unlocks the front door to get into the building.” I demonstrated. “Visitors ring the doorbell here, and we can then buzz them through. It’s like an extra layer of safety.”
Once we were all inside, I led them up the stairs. I was intensely conscious of the dingy paint on the stairwell walls, the worn dips in the stair treads, the stained linoleum on the landings. Seeing through my parents’ eyes, I couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to live in a place like this. I glanced over my shoulder at my mother and could see her eyes narrowing in judgment. Oh yeah, I was going to hear about this. I dreaded seeing her face when she got a look at our apartment.
“And here we are!” I said brightly when we reached the third floor. “See, another couple of locks here—just in case. It’s actually a very safe neighborhood and nobody has tried to break in since we’ve lived here.” I didn’t tell them that my apartment had yet another layer of protection. It had been warded against magical attack. No one could use magic to break into or damage the building. Somehow, I doubted they’d find that bit of information particularly reassuring.
I flung the door open with a game-show-hostess gesture. “Marcia, Gemma, we’re here!” I called out. My mother greeted my roommates with a big hug. My dad shook their hands and nodded silently.
“How was your flight?” Gemma asked.
“Long,” my dad replied.
“Ready for dinner?” Marcia asked. “Our treat, since you’re doing Thanksgiving for us.”
“We made reservations at one of our favorite New York places,” Gemma added. “It’s not too far away, and it’ll give you a look at the neighborhood.”
My mother made a show of protesting that they didn’t need to go to any effort, but she was helpless against the relentless force that was Marcia and Gemma. My dad and I looked at each other and smirked. Eventually, Mom gave in and we all headed out.
Mom walked with Marcia and Gemma, who gave her a running narrative on every place they passed. I followed behind with Dad. When we reached Union Square, Gemma said to Mom, “You’ll have to come over here Wednesday morning for the market. It’ll be the best place to stock up on food for Thanksgiving. Katie shops here all the time.”
“The farmers bring their produce in to sell, and they’re fun to talk to,” I added. Anything that reminded my parents of home was sure to make them feel better about me living in New York.
“There aren’t any muggers in the park?” Mom asked nervously, cradling her purse against her chest.
“It’s pretty safe,” Marcia assured her. “It’s busy, and you’re generally safe wherever you see a bunch of people.”
The restaurant was on the other side of the park. We crossed the street and reached the awning-covered entrance. “And here we are!” Gemma said, before stepping forward to check in with the hostess.
“This is a typical New York bistro,” Marcia explained.
