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Charlotte grimaced. It was true: there was so little she really knew of her mother’s current life. She filled her mouth with more mulled wine.
“My father left when we were really little,” Charlotte offered. “And my mother spent most of my childhood telling me that men weren’t worth anything.”
Charlotte could have told Charlie that Louise hadn’t spoken to Charlotte after she’d married someone she didn’t like; she could have told him that her ex turned out to be exactly as Louise had said he was.
But Charlie Bryant was just Charlie Bryant, a handsome developer from Manhattan. He wasn’t her secret-keeper.
“It looks like she thinks Bert is worth something,” Charlie teased. “I wish someone looked at me the way Louise looks at him.”
Charlotte punched Charlie’s upper arm lightly, surprised at how flirtatious she felt. It was as though there were bubbles in her chest, getting bigger and bursting. “If she sees me, she’ll get distracted and upset,” Charlotte admitted. “And I don’t want her to think I’m in cahoots with you again.”
Charlie’s cheeks were slack. He looked disappointed. Charlotte suddenly felt as though disappointing Charlie was the very last thing she wanted to do in the world.
And then, she heard herself say, “But we could get some food, maybe. There’s an Italian restaurant that isn’t half-bad. Here in town, we say the owner is the daughter of an old mob boss back in the city. But that’s just gossip.”
Charlie’s eyes brightened. Perhaps he just didn’t want to be left alone in his cabin anymore. And perhaps Charlotte wanted to continue this conversation. Was that a crime?
“Let’s do it,” Charlie said.
“Great,” Charlotte said. She was suddenly famished from cleaning up the inn, and she wanted to inhale mounds of pasta and red sauce. She wanted to order a half-carafe of wine and clink her glass with Charlie’s. She wanted to hear more of his confessions. “But it’s not a date,” she said as they wandered through the snow. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“Buddhists don’t date,” Charlie assured her with a joking smile. “It’s the furthest thing from my mind.”
ChapterThirteen
Christmas 2020
The apartment in Greenwich Village was four times the size of the apartment Sarah and Charlie had started out in. The price was astronomical, a number Sarah refused to say aloud as she felt it was cursed. They signed for it on December 1st, then stepped into a snowy Manhattan, hand-in-hand, ready to waste the afternoon together.
At a coffee shop around the corner from the new place, Charlie ordered them cappuccinos and a croissant to share, then joined Sarah at the window. Sarah was now forty-two, a sought-after immigration lawyer, and a fashionista in the truest sense. After she’d been able to abandon the wardrobe she’d had back in Chicago, made up of second-hand clothes and hand-me-downs, she’d built up a wardrobe of sleek pantsuits, gorgeous dresses, and high heels. Sometimes, she joked, “If only my past self could see me now. She would cry.”
Charlie and Sarah clinked their cappuccino mugs together and held the silence. They’d wanted to move out of their apartment near Chinatown for many years; it was finally happening. This was the next stage of their life.
“Melissa just texted,” Sarah said. “Theater practice was canceled today.”
“So, we’ll pick her up early?” Charlie was unabashedly pleased.
“At three,” Sarah said. “I can’t wait to tell her about the apartment.”
“Do you think it’ll make her consider staying in the city after graduation?” Charlie asked.
Sarah’s eyes clouded. “What is it about California? I don’t get it. New York has everything! And we’re here. She could live in Greenwich Village and go to NYU. It’s basically a dream come true.”
“But she wants to carve her own path,” Charlie said. “We were the same way.”
Sarah rubbed her temples. “Maybe we can bribe her to stay.”
Charlie laughed. He wasn’t accustomed to his wife manipulating their daughter. Throughout Melissa’s childhood, he and Sarah had had endless conversations about helping her become “the woman she was meant to be,” about ensuring she had confidence and that she knew how to speak her mind. Sarah had spoken about being raised to be quiet, to be meek. To always apologize. They didn’t want their daughter to make herself smaller just because society demanded it.
“I’m kidding, of course,” Sarah said.
“Of course,” Charlie said. He kissed Sarah on the cheek, and his chest felt heavy, pressurized with too much love.
Charlie and Sarah met Melissa outside the gate of Melissa’s high school. Melissa scrambled toward them. She was tall for her age, with long arms and legs and dark blonde hair in a stream behind her. She hugged them and asked, “Well? Did you do it?”
“We got the apartment!” Sarah cried, cupping Melissa’s elbows.
Melissa screeched and jumped up and down happily. “It’s gorgeous! I cannot wait!”
