Текст книги "Nowhere but Here"

Автор книги: Renee Carlino

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I skimmed past the section on Sr.’s contributions to the world of aviation engineering to his relationship with R.J. It said he was survived by his only son, Ryan James Lawson Jr., an extremely private technology inventor and philanthropist. Just over a week after his father’s death, I was libeling him in a worldwide publication. I moved the article aside. The next piece of information was a spreadsheet of the organizations R.J. had donated to. It was in order from the largest donations to the smallest. At the top of the list, under his own foundation, was the American Diabetes Association, and underneath that was the GLIDE homeless shelter.

My stomach began turning, but it completely dropped through the floor when I moved the spreadsheet to reveal a picture glued to a piece of paper. At the top, Annabel had written, R.J.’s graduation from MIT. Pictured here with his mother, Deborah.

Underneath the picture there were more notes.

It’s public record that R.J. was adopted as an infant. His adoptive mother, pictured here, was killed in a car accident four years ago. After reuniting with his biological parents, they tried to extort money from him. Both were given jail time. He has a biological sister in Boston, and even though he went to college and spends some free time there, he does not have a relationship with her. She testified in her parents’ favor at the short, unpublicized extortion trial.

I looked at the picture in disbelief. It was the same picture I had seen on Jamie’s nightstand in the barn. Suddenly, I remembered the picture I had seen before going to the winery, the one of R.J. as a young boy at the science fair. That boy at the science fair and the young man at his college graduation were clearly the same person. Jamie. Even now, I had a hard time seeing them in the man I had spent several intimate days with. Jamie couldn’t be a computer genius—he didn’t fit the stereotype. And I had seen R.J. with my own eyes in an interview . . .

I stood up on shaky legs and pushed my chair away. It can’t be. The room started spinning.

Beth spotted me over the partition. “You okay?” I nodded and then sunk to my knees on the floor. I tore open my suitcase and began rummaging through all of the notes and papers I had shoved in there from my room at the winery. I looked at the sheet where I had taken notes from R.J.’s e-mail to me. When I thought back to what Jamie had told me about his life, it matched or somehow fit into the outline R.J. had given me.

Giant puzzle pieces floating above my head started moving into place.

Jamie: Ryan James.

MIT: College on the East Coast.

Building schools in Africa: Tribal tattoos. I’ve traveled a lot.

Hands-on approach: I clean this pool, I can swim in it anytime I want.

Me: Is this R.J.’s boat? Jamie: It’s my boat.

Me: What’s your last name? Jamie: No more talking.

Tears began falling onto the papers in my hand. I looked down at the smudge I’d created in Jamie’s handwriting. It was a note—one I hadn’t seen. The morning I had left, the maids had cleaned before I packed. They had gathered all of my paperwork into a pile, and this note, the note that could have changed everything, got lost in the mix somehow.

Katy, my angel,

I had to go to Portland. My father had a heart attack, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it through the night. Please don’t leave. If I can’t get back by tomorrow, I’ll send a car and get you a flight up here. Please, please don’t leave. I have something really important to tell you, besides the fact that I am completely in love with you.

–J

I sobbed loudly. Beth was hovering over me within seconds. “What’s wrong?”

“J . . . Jamie is . . .”

“What, Kate?”

“Jamie is R.J.” I finally got it out.

“You mean the guy, the one you fell for?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Well, then, who was the R.J. you met?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?” I nodded. “So if Jamie is R.J., then the article . . .”

“Oh my god, I thought he destroyed me, but I’ve destroyed him. He’s not that man.” I pointed to the article pinned to the cubicle partition. “He’s a good man with a big heart.” I sniffled. “He’s brilliant and he works so hard. How could I have not put it together?” I held the note up. “And on top of everything else, he’s in love with me!”

“Shit, Kate. Why did he lie to you?” I swallowed back the lump taking over my throat. I stood and looked up at Jerry’s office, which sat perched above the bull pen. Jerry was standing at the large glass window, talking on the phone and staring down at me. He pointed to the receiver at his ear and mouthed, Lawson. He’s here. I flew toward the bathroom. Beth followed. She held my hair while I puked the entire contents of my stomach into the toilet.

“You should go home. I’ll talk to Jerry.”

“Thank you,” was all I could get out. I went back to my cubicle and grabbed my coat but left my suitcase and paperwork, except for the note. When I glanced up at Jerry’s office, I could see that Beth was already there, talking with a sober look on her face.

I darted out of the bull pen and chose to use the service elevator, hoping to avoid Jamie, or R.J., or whoever he was. I beelined through the lobby, pushed both glass doors open forcefully, and headed out onto the street. I stopped within a few feet of the entrance when I spotted him. He was leaning against a concrete wall, looking down at his feet. He was wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt. The top buttons were undone and his hair was slicked back.

His eyes were sad and shadowed with dark circles. I stuffed the note into my pocket and began to rush past him with my head down, hoping he wouldn’t see me.

He stood up to block me. “Wait,” was all he said.

I squared my shoulders and put my hand on my hip. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I flew straight here after my father’s funeral.” His voice cracked at the last second.

“I’m sorry, Jamie . . . R.J. . . . whoever you are.” I had sympathy for him, for his loss and for the stupid article, but I was so hurt by his lies and the problems they’d caused. I turned to walk away. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me back toward him.

“Everyone I know calls me Jamie. And I’m sorry, too, Kate.” He tried to pull me closer.

I pounded my fists against his chest. “You’re a liar.” I started to cry. “You lied to me while I was naked in your arms. And the article . . . you made me a fraud, and you ruined my career.” I tried to pull away but he held me. “Why did you approve it?”

“I didn’t. If I didn’t respond within forty-eight hours, he had a right to print it. It was in the contract.” He stepped away and looked down at his feet. “I was busy mourning the only family I had left.”

Wiping the tears from my face, I stood up straight and regained my composure. “I am truly sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for this whole big mess. I wish I had never gone out there. I wish I had never met you.”

“How can you say that?” He gripped the outside of my arms and stared down at me with a desperate pleading in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

“If you hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have written a fucked-up fake article about you.” I yanked my arms out of his grip. “Who the hell was that guy I interviewed?”

“His name is Bradley Reis. He’s a friend of Susan’s—or was, I should say. She thought he would fit the part.”

“Fit the part?” I shook my head.

“I know, it seems so stupid now. I didn’t want to give up my privacy. I wanted to be able to walk around the winery and just be myself, just be Jamie. I was afraid if I met with a reporter, everyone would know who I was and hound me.”

“That’s not what would have happened.”

“I panicked. Susan said all we had to do was write down information about the winery and Bradley would just try to avoid all the personal questions. I never liked him and shouldn’t have trusted him.” Jamie was staring at his shoes. “I don’t think he expected you to be so persistent. I think he thought he could charm you.” He looked up and smiled timidly.

“Your little plan backfired, didn’t it? Now you’ve ruined your reputation and my career.”

“Jerry said Beth could write a rowback.”

“That’s great for you. Your name will be cleared, but I’ll still be out of a job.”

“I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this right.” His eyes watered a bit and then he swallowed. In a low voice, he said, “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t see the note until today, but everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it?”

I turned to walk away but he followed. “Katy, I know you don’t believe that.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said without turning back. He grabbed my arm and swung me around. I gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Stop this now! This is crazy,” he growled. He searched my eyes, still holding my arm tightly. “Just stop and give me a fucking chance.”

“You’re hurting me.” He let go instantly. “I barely know you. It was four days. Four days I wish I could get back,” I said in a calm, even tone.

He straightened up and squared his shoulders. “You’re a liar.”

“You’re the fucking liar.”

“I don’t care about the article. They don’t need to correct it. You can call me a liar, an asshole, whatever you want, but I know that four days meant something to you. I don’t care about my reputation or the money. Nothing!”

“What do you care about, Jamie? Making wine, singing karaoke, lying about who you are?” I continued walking quickly ahead of him.

“I care about you.” His tone wasn’t soft; it was matter-of-fact, the way a person sounds when they’re telling an absolute truth.

I turned on my heel and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “Listen to me, Jamie. Do nothing. We are not meant to be. I live here and you live there. You are some insanely rich genius, and I don’t even own a car. I probably don’t have a job, either.” It was the first time I had seen him clean-shaven. I leaned up on my toes and kissed him softly then whispered, “You fucked with me. You fucked with us. And now we can never be.”

He stared down at me, looking somber. “Just tell me one thing.”

“What?” I seethed.

“Am I the only one you think about?” Tears filled my eyes again. I put my head down quickly and turned to walk toward the L station. He didn’t move but instead shouted, “I won’t give up. The poets are right!”

I got on the wrong train, so it took me an extra half hour to get home. When I entered my building, Jamie was sitting at the base of the stairs. He had ditched his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He looked the part of the CEO millionaire for once, except for maybe the tattoos and his tanned skin.

“Go home, Jamie.”

He got up and followed me toward the elevator. “Kate, please. Let’s go get a coffee and talk about this.”

“No.” I continued walking past him.

“I thought I scared you off with the note. I thought maybe it was too soon for you, and then when I read the article I realized how upset you were.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter now. All of it is too fucked up. I thought you were someone else. I don’t even know you.”

“You do know me. I’m the same person. I’m Jamie. Nobody cares who R. J. Lawson is. It’s just a name. You know the real me.”

“I thought I knew you.” I stopped at the elevator.

“I am so sorry. I know I should have told you before we . . .”

I turned around, crossed my arms, and yelled, “What? Fucked?”

Staring into my eyes, he moved toward me and touched his fingertips to my cheek. “Calm down, please.” He tilted his head and let his gaze drop to my mouth. “You know that’s not what we did.”

“Yes it is. You said it yourself.” I pulled his hand away. “Please go home. We had a fling. It’s over now. Go. Home.” I stepped into the elevator and held strong until the doors closed and then I collapsed against the wall in sobs.

I hit the button for the top-floor roof deck, but the elevator came to a stop on the fifth floor. Dylan and Ashley stepped in. I didn’t make eye contact with them.

“You going to the roof, Kate?” He bent slightly to look at my face.

I sniffled. “Just goin’ for a ride. The roof deck is all yours.”

“You know Ashley, right?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.

She seemed timid. “Same to you.”

When the elevator doors opened, Ashley stepped out but Dylan remained inside. “I’ll be right back, Ash. I’m gonna walk Kate to her apartment.”

Shaking my head frantically, I pushed against his back. “No, you guys go, I’m fine.”

I held the open-door button and urged him to exit the elevator. “Kate, you are not fine. I can see how upset you are. Was it Stephen? I’ll kick his ass.” He pushed my hand away from the button and then kissed the air in Ashley’s direction. “I’ll be back in two minutes, babe.” She smiled longingly at him as the doors closed completely.

When we reached the door of my apartment, he wrapped his skinny arms around me and tucked me into his chest. “Whatever it is you’re going through, I’m sorry.” I cried quietly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three pills: two yellow and one blue. “Here, you can have these.”

“What is it?”

“They’re benzos.”

“What’s that?”

“Those two are Ativan and that’s Xanax.” He pointed to the blue pill. “They’ll relax you and help you sleep. Just take one at a time.”

He dropped them into my hand. “Where do you get this stuff?”

“From my grandma’s stash.”

“That’s terrible, you being so young and . . . all of the drugs.”

“It’s cute that you’re worried about me. I actually haven’t done any drugs in the last couple of days. Ashley makes me want to be sober.” He smiled coyly. “She’s like a drug to me.”

“You’re sweet.” I pushed him toward the elevator. “Now go to the roof and make out with Ashley.”

“Okay, see ya. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to hang out,” he said as he walked away.

I chased the blue pill with a large gulp of beer and the rest of the night was a blur.

Page 13
Enterprise Copy

A month went by before I started feeling normal again. I easily fell into the same old routine, except I was condemned to the Arts and Leisure section of the paper. I didn’t mind—at least Jerry hadn’t fired me. He understood that I had been duped by everyone at the winery. I got to see Will Ryan and his wife play in Chicago, and Jerry printed (without question) my very gleaming review of the concert. Beth ended up writing the rowback for the R.J. article. That’s when a newspaper tries to correct a story without indicating an error to begin with. She managed to imply that we were deceived, even though she didn’t say it outright. To our complete amazement, there was little response to my article or the rowback, so that was a relief. We realized that the whole thing was very dramatically blown out of proportion, thanks to my personal involvement with the subject. Still, Jerry and I agreed that it would be best for me to lay low until it all was completely forgotten. R. J. Lawson, whoever he was, fell easily off the radar once again, but the wine and winery didn’t stop getting praise. After my article ran, several Napa magazines featured full spreads of the Lawson winery and the gorgeous vineyard surrounding it. It continued to be recognized like it had been before, but R.J. the man was never mentioned in those articles. Jamie maintained his privacy after the rowback. I looked at each picture of the winery with a strange feeling, like I had never been there. My memories of that beautiful place had been tarnished.

I never went to another gay bar with Beth, but we made a pact to have dinner once a week. True to her words at the Dogfather, she finally started dating someone seriously, and for the first time I was actually producing more words than her on the weekends. I’d march into work every Monday and lean over her cubicle and say, “I busted out eight thousand words.”

She would always chuckle. “Yeah, but I got laid.”

“That’s overrated,” I would say. Lying, of course.

It was hard not to be happy for Beth and Jerry and Dylan, who had all managed to find their people, so I devoted myself to positively supporting all of their relationships. I added another houseplant to my apartment, along with a betta fish that I named Anchovy. Just getting a fish equaled more commitment than Rose had made in her whole life. I figured I was easily on my way to twenty cats. I wondered about Rose’s dream all the time. I still had it, but it would always end before she’d open her eyes. The terrifying and touching moments in the dream were gone, but the sadness remained.

Stephen stopped screwing women in the basement after Dylan and I sent around a petition requesting that the door to the basement laundry room be removed. The super, who was not a fan of Stephen, gladly took the door off. Jamie continued leaving me messages, begging me to call him. That lasted two weeks, and then he resigned himself to simply calling and saying, “Good night” or “Good morning” or “I’m thinking about you,” on my voice mail. The messages made my heart ache, but it was a good ache. Somehow it felt like a healing ache. It’s like the pain you feel when the skin around a wound tightens up. I got to work on time every day because I stopped searching for Just Bob. I didn’t stop searching for the holiday train, though. My pathetic goal in life became sitting next to Santa on the goddamned L, and I wouldn’t stop until it happened. I made myself believe that searching for a fake Santa on a train was enough to live for.

Time sidled by like I was watching my life as a rerun in slightly slower motion—until the morning when I saw a familiar face on the L. It was December and freezing in Chicago, but I was sweating. There’s a constant adjustment of your body temperature when you live in a cold place. I like to pile on layers of clothes because I hate stepping out into the cold, but then I always end up half walking, half jogging to the train. By the time I board I’m usually sweating profusely. On top of it, the transit system pumps heat into the subway portals so there’s no ice buildup on the tracks. There’s sometimes a stuffiness in the stations, and then if a train is crowded and you’ve been running for four blocks and you’re wearing a parka, there’s a good chance you will either pass out or puke, and that’s what almost happened the morning I met Christina.

I recognized her right away but couldn’t place her. She looked to be in her thirties, with strawberry blond hair and a perfect complexion. She recognized me instantly but continued to scrutinize me. My heart was beating out of my chest from running. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow and began frantically removing my coat. She was still watching me, and then she tilted her head to the side. I felt like she was studying me.

“Are you Kate?”

“Yes,” I said through heavy breaths. She grinned knowingly, so I moved across the aisle to sit next to her. I turned and stuck my sweaty hand out. “I’m sorry, I recognize you but I can’t figure out where I know you from.”

“Does Robert Connor ring a bell?”

After removing my giant coat and catching my breath, I looked down at my hands while I searched my mind. “Uh no, sorry.”

“Bob, from the train.”

“Oh, Just Bob. Yes! Yes, I know him. I remember you now. You used to sit with us. I haven’t seen Bob. I couldn’t find him. I just figured he had started taking a different line.”

Her face changed and her lips turned down. “I’m glad I found you, even though I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. Bob passed away a month and a half ago.”

Fuck. I knew something had happened.

“Oh no.” My eyes started watering. “What happened?”

“We think he died a peaceful death from natural causes. He was older than he looked. He was ninety-five but sharp as a tack.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Well, he didn’t have any close friends or family so his body wasn’t found for quite some time.” She furrowed her eyebrows and puckered her lips, clearly still emotional at the idea.

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, Bob lived a very solitary life. I only found out after they were clearing his apartment. At some point I had given him my business card. You see, I’m a lawyer, and Bob wanted me to write his will. We never got around to a meeting, but he must have known his days were numbered because he wrote his own will right on the back of a paper plate.” She laughed and looked up to the ceiling of the train. “Bob didn’t have much, but he sure wanted you to have a few of his things. His apartment was full of books.” My eyes widened. She reached out and grasped my hand. “Most of the books were donated to schools and libraries, but Bob had set a few aside in a little shoebox with a note. On the plate he wrote ‘Please make sure Kate from the train, the young girl with big eyes and dark hair gets the shoebox.’ It was luck that they contacted me after finding my card and that I remembered you, but I didn’t know if I would ever find you. I just made a silent promise that I would watch every person that got on and off the train.”

“So what does the note say?”

“I haven’t read it.” She stood up. “This is my stop. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, meet me at the Rosehill Cemetery mausoleum at ten a.m. You know where that is?”

“Yes.” I knew it well. “Thank you,” I said as I took the card. I stared at it for several minutes before putting it in my pocket. I wondered why Bob had singled me out of the group of followers.

After work, I went home and slid into bed. I opened my phone to three new voice mails. One was Dylan. Hey, chica. Ashley turns eighteen tomorrow, holy shit!

His voice got super high. I wanted to know if I could borrow your apartment. I’ll pay for you to go to a movie or something.

I texted him back:

Me: So you want to use my apartment to have sex with your girlfriend?

He responded almost immediately.

Dylan: Um yeah. Is that bad?

I laughed to myself. Dylan was always so innocently honest. It was kind of charming. I think if I had met Jamie in the right circumstances, I would have felt the same way about him.

Me: Fine. You better wash the sheets and you better be safe with her.

Dylan: I’m no dummy.

Me: You should make her dinner. My kitchen is stocked. Be a gentleman.

Dylan: You read my mind.

Me: I’ll leave around six. You have a key, right?

Dylan: Yeah, from that time I had to feed Anchovy

Me: K. Have fun.

I listened to the second voice mail from Jerry. We’re cleaning out the stockroom. Your suitcase is still in here. Seriously, Kate, I’m trashing it if you don’t come and get it. I’m working tomorrow for a couple of hours. Maybe you can pick it up and we can grab lunch?

The suitcase was packed with everything from my time in Napa and all of the R.J. research. The dress I’d worn on our date was in there, as well as the necklace and note from Jamie. A lump began to form in my throat. Why am I not over this yet?

As expected, the third voice mail was from Jamie. Hi, —He paused and took a deep breath.—I went to GLIDE today. A few people asked me about you. I had to tell them that I was a fool . . . and that I let you slip away. I heard a subtle change in his voice, like he was choked up. Night, angel.

That’s why I wasn’t over it yet. But I didn’t cry that night. There were no tears left.

I met Christina in the entry of the mausoleum at Rosehill the next morning. She held the box out to me as I approached. There was a folded note taped to the top. “Good morning,” I said to her as I took the box and peeled the note off. I unfolded it immediately and read:

Kate from the L,

I remember when I first met you months ago. You seemed so disconsolate and distant. I know we didn’t know each other well, but I felt a desire to help. Now I fear I may have failed you. You see, you reminded me of someone I used to know. Her name was Lily and she was beautiful, young, and vibrant, and she was the love of my life. You look like her—same warm eyes and dark hair. I used to get lost in her eyes. I wasn’t always such a lonely ogre. I was full of life once, but I lost my Lily too soon when she passed away just after our wedding. I saw you in the same kind of pain that I’d felt. I didn’t want to see my Lily in pain. I thought if I made you believe that there was happiness in solitude, that you couldn’t and shouldn’t rely on another human being, maybe you would stop feeling that pain. I was wrong. What I really want you to know is that I would have traded a lifetime with my books, alone in my apartment, for one more minute with Lily, even if it meant I had to feel that pain over and over again. Don’t give up, Kate. Don’t stop searching. Find him, take care of each other, hold on to each other, and never let go.

I hope this finds you well and still hopeful.

Your friend,

Bob

To say I was a blubbering mess would be putting it lightly. Even Christina was crying just from watching me read the note.

I looked up at her. “Wow, Bob was romantic.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, read it for yourself.” I handed her the note.

As she read, I opened the box and fumbled through the books Bob had left me. There were a few old paperbacks I didn’t recognize and then I got to Possession and The English Patient and A Room with a View. Perhaps it was a whisper.

When Christina was through reading, she folded the paper and handed it back to me. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Right?”

She pulled me along into the building and said, “Come on, let’s thank him and pay our respects.”

We took a familiar path. “Where are we going?” I started to get a very strange feeling.

“It’s just around this corner.” Soon, we were facing the spot where Rose’s placard finally had been placed.

I looked up to the wall. Gleaming two rows above was a placard with the name ROBERT CONNOR and the dates of his birth and recent death. Bob and Rose were on the same wall. Another whisper. It was a coincidence, but it brought back so much emotion. The dream with Rose flashed through my mind, as well as Bob’s words. Those two lonely souls were reaching out to me in death and urging me to open my heart. I put my hand over Rose’s name and then reached up with my other arm and touched Bob’s placard. “Take care of each other,” I said very quietly.

“I’ve got to go, Kate.” Christina had been silent while we stood there facing the wall.

I turned toward her. “Thank you so much for holding on to this. It means a lot that he wanted to share his feelings with me. I only wish I could show him my gratitude now.”

“You can—by taking his advice.” She pointed to the note.

“Yeah.” I smiled sincerely, but taking his advice at this point would open up the wound all over again.

Walking to the L, I held my head up and let the cold wind chafe my face. I needed, more than anything, to make a concerted effort to put things behind me and look forward. If I let myself be open to another relationship, I had to get over Jamie completely. Step one in that process would be addressing the suitcase.

I entered the open door of Jerry’s office at the Chicago Crier. “Hey, kid.” He removed his bifocals and stood up from behind his desk. “What do you say we get sandwiches and hit up Millennium Park?”

“It’s freezing out.”

“All right. Shedd Aquarium, then?” Clearly, Jerry needed a distraction, which wasn’t usually hard for him. Maybe he knew I needed one, too.

“That sounds good.”

“Should we pick up sushi and freak out all the animals?”

“No, that’s terrible.” He was such a kid at heart, albeit a weird one, but a kid through and through. “Let’s get grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup from Ma’s.”

“Comfort food it is.”

I slurped my soup from the bench facing the dolphin aquarium. “Did you know dolphins have sex for pleasure?” Jerry said through a mouth full of grilled cheese.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“They’re the only animals besides people that do it for pleasure. Do you think they’re capable of love, too?”

I huffed. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“I was just wondering what you thought.”

“Well, I guess you would have to define love for me to answer that question.”

He popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth and looked around contemplatively while he chewed. “Love is a thing that you can’t take out of you. Once it’s there, it doesn’t go away, no matter what. Love can morph into hate and resentment, but it will always be there, buried under the bad feelings.”

“Hmm, very poetic, Jerry, but I think love is just a feeling.”

“That’s lust. That’s why dolphins have sex.”

I choked on my soup. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious. Love isn’t just a feeling, otherwise it would come and go much easier.”

“I guess what I had with Jamie was lust.”

“Maybe so.” He continued looking forward but elbowed me in the arm. “I guess that’s why it’s been so easy for you both to let go, huh?”

I faced him with a scrutinizing look. “Do you think I’m being unreasonable?”

“Yeah, I do. Not just to Jamie, but to yourself, too.”

“He lied to me.”

“He tried to tell you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he’s called me about three hundred times since your little article faux pas.”

“About what?”

“Lots of different things. He wanted me to know that he was sorry for hurting you. He also wanted to make sure that you were okay, since you haven’t returned any of his calls.” I shrugged. “You know, Kate, I find him fascinating. Who would have thought young Ryan Lawson would grow up to be this kind of person? He was such a geeky kid. He’s still brilliant, don’t get me wrong, but he’s really a guy’s guy, you know?”

“Maybe you should date him, Jerry.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all. I don’t think any of us would have suspected Jamie. I should have given you more time to research before I sent you out there.”

“Maybe. Probably. They definitely didn’t expect that Jamie and I would . . .”

“Fall in love?”

I face-planted into both of my hands and leaned over my knees. “I was going to say hook up. Enough with the love stuff.”

He stood and brushed the crumbs from his clothes, seemingly unaffected by my dramatics. “You’ll figure it out, kid.”

Jerry drove me back to the office, where I collected my suitcase. I wheeled it past the closest L station, which was closed due to construction. I let myself absorb the cold again. I glanced at my watch. It was four thirty. I had a little time to get back to my apartment before I would have to disappear again so Dylan and Ashley could have their date. I was thoroughly freezing when I reached the second closest L station. I waited at the platform with the toes of my shoes peeking over the yellow line. It was starting to get dark out. I heard the train coming, so I leaned out to look down the track. To my absolute joy and wonder, pink lights were reflecting onto the shiny tracks just before the train came into view. Even though I had never seen it before, I knew, as if it were the absolute truth of the world, that the holiday train was coming my way.