her a piece of fabric she wanted me to match. Mrs. Stauer lived on Long Island, more than an hour’s train ride away.
“We’re leaving for Scotland today. I have to be at Newark at eleven,” she said.
If she hadn’t been Celine’s best customer I would have told her she should’ve taken care of this before the day she had to leave.
“Can you stick it in the mail to me before you go?” I said instead, grabbing a pair of ballerina flats from my closet.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s a family heirloom, Taryn.”
“I’m afraid I can’t come to Long Island. I’m meeting someone downtown this morning, Mrs. Stauer. It’s important.”
“Oh! Didn’t I mention it?” she said excitedly. “I’m already downtown! Roger had business to take care of before we head out, so we stayed overnight in the city. This is perfect.”
I slipped on my shoes and looked at my watch. Celine was in Paris on a buying trip and I was in charge. I wanted her to be glad she had left me at the helm, as she had only recently made me assistant manager. If I left Brooklyn at that moment, I might have time to make a very quick stop before meeting Kent, depending on the location of her hotel. “Where are you?”
“At the Millenium.”
The Millenium was just a five-minute walk from the North Tower. Practically across the street from it. For just a moment, the strangest feeling came over me. It was as if it were no quirky twist that Mrs. Stauer had stayed downtown last night, that there was a reason I had this errand to run before meeting Kent.
But I shook that unfounded notion away. I didn’t want to think about Mrs. Stauer or her fabric. I just wanted to get in, get out, and reach Kent.
“Okay. I’m leaving now, Mrs. Stauer. I should be there in twenty-five minutes. Can you meet me in the lobby?”
“Oh, splendid, Taryn. Just splendid. See you soon!”
She clicked off. I scooted into the kitchen to turn off the coffee and close the window above the sink—despite its squeaky protest—and then I dashed out the door.
The morning commute was in full swing and the High Street station was bustling with people heading into Manhattan. I sandwiched my way onto an A train and we took off. Ten minutes later I emerged onto Wall Street and I could feel how lovely the new day was going to be. The air was warm and fresh. And I was carrying a tiny speck of human life inside me.
After a quick five-minute walk, I was standing inside the Millenium’s lobby and it was twenty-four minutes past eight. I still had plenty of time. But there was no Mrs. Stauer.
I waited five minutes and then went to the front desk to have the desk clerk phone her room.
“She wants you to come up,” the clerk said as she replaced the phone. “Sixteenth floor, room sixteen twenty-four.”
I sighed audibly but there was nothing the desk clerk could do for me. I headed for the elevators.
Seventy-plus Mrs. Stauer, sporting auburn curls of a shade seen only on Irish setters, greeted me in her bathrobe.
“Oh, thanks for coming, Taryn. I am so glad we can take care of this before I go. Here, come in, come in.” She opened the door wide.
“I really should be on my way. I’ve an appointment and—”
“But I’m not even dressed. And this won’t take but a minute. I have it right here. Come in.”
She waddled back inside her room and I followed. The door eased itself shut behind me. Mr. Stauer was apparently out getting a paper or coffee or fresh air. Several large suitcases filled one corner, and a service table in the middle of the room boasted two plates of nearly eaten blueberry pancakes.
Mrs. Stauer picked up a large handbag from off the floor and set it on the unmade king-size bed. She stuffed her hand inside and drew out a drawstring hosiery bag.
“We planned this trip to see my cousin in Glasgow ages ago and then I suddenly remembered yesterday that I’d promised her I would try to find a scarf like the one our auntie had. I wasn’t sure
“We’re leaving for Scotland today. I have to be at Newark at eleven,” she said.
If she hadn’t been Celine’s best customer I would have told her she should’ve taken care of this before the day she had to leave.
“Can you stick it in the mail to me before you go?” I said instead, grabbing a pair of ballerina flats from my closet.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. It’s a family heirloom, Taryn.”
“I’m afraid I can’t come to Long Island. I’m meeting someone downtown this morning, Mrs. Stauer. It’s important.”
“Oh! Didn’t I mention it?” she said excitedly. “I’m already downtown! Roger had business to take care of before we head out, so we stayed overnight in the city. This is perfect.”
I slipped on my shoes and looked at my watch. Celine was in Paris on a buying trip and I was in charge. I wanted her to be glad she had left me at the helm, as she had only recently made me assistant manager. If I left Brooklyn at that moment, I might have time to make a very quick stop before meeting Kent, depending on the location of her hotel. “Where are you?”
“At the Millenium.”
The Millenium was just a five-minute walk from the North Tower. Practically across the street from it. For just a moment, the strangest feeling came over me. It was as if it were no quirky twist that Mrs. Stauer had stayed downtown last night, that there was a reason I had this errand to run before meeting Kent.
But I shook that unfounded notion away. I didn’t want to think about Mrs. Stauer or her fabric. I just wanted to get in, get out, and reach Kent.
“Okay. I’m leaving now, Mrs. Stauer. I should be there in twenty-five minutes. Can you meet me in the lobby?”
“Oh, splendid, Taryn. Just splendid. See you soon!”
She clicked off. I scooted into the kitchen to turn off the coffee and close the window above the sink—despite its squeaky protest—and then I dashed out the door.
The morning commute was in full swing and the High Street station was bustling with people heading into Manhattan. I sandwiched my way onto an A train and we took off. Ten minutes later I emerged onto Wall Street and I could feel how lovely the new day was going to be. The air was warm and fresh. And I was carrying a tiny speck of human life inside me.
After a quick five-minute walk, I was standing inside the Millenium’s lobby and it was twenty-four minutes past eight. I still had plenty of time. But there was no Mrs. Stauer.
I waited five minutes and then went to the front desk to have the desk clerk phone her room.
“She wants you to come up,” the clerk said as she replaced the phone. “Sixteenth floor, room sixteen twenty-four.”
I sighed audibly but there was nothing the desk clerk could do for me. I headed for the elevators.
Seventy-plus Mrs. Stauer, sporting auburn curls of a shade seen only on Irish setters, greeted me in her bathrobe.
“Oh, thanks for coming, Taryn. I am so glad we can take care of this before I go. Here, come in, come in.” She opened the door wide.
“I really should be on my way. I’ve an appointment and—”
“But I’m not even dressed. And this won’t take but a minute. I have it right here. Come in.”
She waddled back inside her room and I followed. The door eased itself shut behind me. Mr. Stauer was apparently out getting a paper or coffee or fresh air. Several large suitcases filled one corner, and a service table in the middle of the room boasted two plates of nearly eaten blueberry pancakes.
Mrs. Stauer picked up a large handbag from off the floor and set it on the unmade king-size bed. She stuffed her hand inside and drew out a drawstring hosiery bag.
“We planned this trip to see my cousin in Glasgow ages ago and then I suddenly remembered yesterday that I’d promised her I would try to find a scarf like the one our auntie had. I wasn’t sure
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