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If Emir wasn’t the right man for the job, then I didn’t know who was. I just hoped Neil wouldn’t be too mad at me for taking the initiative.
* * * *
Though it sucked that Neil and I would be apart for the weekend, it did give me extra time to see Holli. We’d decided to spend the day in the village, hitting all the trendy shops and feeling very superior about our fashion knowledge.
We were standing in 2-1-8, a recently opened boutique that was trying way too hard, when Holli checked her phone and groaned.
“Annika has to stop referring to her kid’s age in months.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me you will never, ever let me be like that. If I call you up and tell you that my little Jackson just graduated law school at two-hundred eighty-eight months, pepper spray me in the eyes.”
I snickered. “I thought you weren’t having kids?”
“Deja wants them, eventually. She better be the one birthing them, because these narrow hips are structurally unsound.” Holli shook her head. “I know, I’m a terrible person. I used to hate it when people would say, ‘one day, you’ll change your mind,’ and here I am changing my mind.”
“You’re not terrible. Just because you didn’t want kids before and you do now doesn’t mean you’re a traitor. Now, if you suddenly start telling me that I am going to change my mind? Then you’re a traitor. And a dick.” I tilted my head as I considered an overpriced white cardigan with red-orange horizontal stripes. The buttons were interesting, but not enough to warrant the two-hundred-and-fifteen-dollar price tag. I put it back.
“Yeah, again: pepper spray.” She held up two fingers in a v and pointed to her eyes.
“Ugh, this store sucks,” I said under my breath.
“You wanna go back to your p
lace? I have to stop by Hermés on Madison, there’s a scarf I’m dying for, and I just got paid.” Holli did a little dance.
I almost made a comment about how a Hermés scarf would look splattered with baby puke, but I realized that then I would be a dick. While I was slightly disappointed that Holli was falling out of the no-babies-ever-forever club, logically I knew it wasn’t a judgment of my own choices. I didn’t have to be defensive about it.
We got a cab, and since she’d dropped a bomb on me, I figured it would be okay to drop one on her. It would at least make the ride interesting.
“So…Neil and I are going out on Monday to look at a house in the Hamptons.”
She blinked at me. “Wow, really?”
“Uh, yeah. You know, we were discussing moving out of the city, this Sagaponack thing came up—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Holli shrieked, and the cab driver jumped a little in his seat.
In a purposeful hush that I hoped would communicate the need for quiet, I replied, “I didn’t tell you because it’s not a big deal. We changed our minds. But the property is apparently a steal, so Neil wants to look into it.” I paused. “You know, maybe he could buy it, and Emma and Michael could live there.”
Holli squinted up her face. “What do you wear when you’re going to look at a house in the Hamptons?”
I shrugged. That particular question had been plaguing me for a while now. “I’m stumped. Anything conservative I have is going to look like I’m going to the office. And it’s not like I can just show up in jeans and a t-shirt. What if I end up really wanting the house?”
“That seems like a great reason to wear jeans and a t-shirt,” Holli snorted. “Like not shaving your legs before a first date. I mean, it’s not like you’d actually want to move all the way out to Sagaponack.”
When I didn’t respond, her expression fell. “Sophie…you’re not seriously considering this?”
“Maybe not, you know. Right now.” I might as well have held up a flashing neon “YES!” sign, as convincing as my answer was.
I thought Holli would go atomic right there in the cab, demanding to know what I could get in the Hamptons that I couldn’t get in Manhattan, and I’d better not expect her to travel that far for movie night, but instead she just rolled her eyes and gave me an obvious and dramatic sigh. That was almost worse.
“What?” I demanded with a laugh that was entirely forced. “You seem to forget that I’m from a town where people give directions by saying, ‘ya, you go right down der past da Sodie camp, den take a leff by dem big gray gerbage cans…’ Manhattan was never going to be my forever home.”
“What, did I get you from a shelter or something?” She could never stay mad at me long enough to pass up a quip.
We pulled up outside the Hermés boutique on Madison Avenue, and I slid out, feeling self-conscious in my jeans, white burnt-out tee, and pink tweed jacket. Then I remembered I wasn’t there to represent Gabriella Winters, fashion maven, and that I could buy the entire contents of the damn boutique if I wanted to.
Which is what made the chilly reception I got so fucking galling. Holli, being a newly minted minor It Girl of the modeling world, was welcomed with open arms by the sales staff, while I stood by completely ignored. Some of the associates working the floor had been there when I would come in trailing Gabriella, and I could tell from the way those individuals avoided my eyes that a line had been drawn a year ago, and I had crossed it by stepping on her turf.
I followed Holli and her salesman, winding around the sleek mahogany display cases and listening to her describe the scarf she was looking for while he tried to up-sell her on something else, when someone tapped my shoulder.
