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Memories.
They anchor me to that apartment. They always will.
Chapter 3
Dexie
A siren blares as I step out of the Matiz Cosmetics office tower.
The sound is an integral part of Manhattan. When I first moved to the city it took me months to get used to all the noise. It’s never quiet, but for the most part, I’ve grown to love it.
On days like today, I could do without the argument that’s going on next to me. Two women are disagreeing about where to go to eat lasagna. I can tell that they’re tourists. The clothing they’re wearing gives them away.
It’s the middle of summer and the early evening temperature is hovering near ninety-five degrees.
I’m wearing a white sundress with a light pink cardigan draped over my forearm. They’re both decked out in jeans, white I heart NY T-shirts and black hoodies tied around their waists.
“I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation.” I turn toward the women. It’s immediately obvious that they’re sisters. “I can make a great recommendation for pasta.”
Both of their faces brighten with broad smiles.
The shorter of the two brunettes speaks first. “Do you live here?”
I nod. “I do.”
The other woman’s nose crinkles as her gaze rakes me over. “You look like you belong on the cover of a fashion magazine.”
I take the compliment with a smile. I think I look more like I spent my day in a stuffy office going over the marketing materials for the winter launch of Matiz’s new lipstick line. The skirt of my dress is wrinkled. My hair is a frizzed mess from the humidity and there’s a yellow stain on my cardigan. The deli down the street put too much mustard on my pastrami on rye and the excess dropped on my sweater. I adjust the cardigan to hide the stain, so I don’t look like a complete fraud to these two.
I know from experience that a specific question always brightens a
tourist’s day. “Do you two live here?”
They giggle in unison and their blue eyes narrow in the same way. I suddenly wonder if they resemble their mom or their dad.
The taller of the two women leans closer to me. “We don’t live here. We’re from Idaho.”
“I’ve never been,” I say truthfully. “What’s it like?”
They both step to the right to allow a group of people to pass by us. The shorter woman sighs as she looks toward the street and the buses, cars, and delivery trucks creeping along in late afternoon traffic.
“Peaceful,” she answers as she points at the woman next to her. “My sister lives closer to the mountains than I do, but I’m not complaining. I love it there.”
“It sounds beautiful.” I watch as she looks over at her sister. “I hope I can visit someday.”
“Where did you buy that?” The taller woman inches closer to me, her gaze pinned on the yellow leather tote that’s clutched in my hand. “It’s beautiful.”
I look down at the bag. It took me weeks to get the design right. I chose this bright color because it symbolizes summer to me. I put the final touches on it right before I moved to my new place. “It’s one of mine. I designed it.”
They exchange a glance before they both turn back to me. “Do you have a store? A website? Where can we get it?”
Their voices blend as they spit out the questions. I hesitate before I answer. “I can give you my card. I’m only doing custom one-of-a-kind pieces right now.”
I fish in my tote for the silver business card holder Sophia gave me for my birthday last year. I tug out two cards and hand one to each woman.
“Can you make that bag in black?” The shorter woman stares down at my card. “I’d love it in black.”
“I can do that.” I trace my fingertips over the delicate silver chain that runs along the top of the bag. “I can change out any of the details to make it perfect for you.”
