Peninsula. It’s fantastic, so I’ve been spending a lot of time there during the summer. But whenever I came home—which wasn’t often—I’d pass by your house and wonder where you were. I hoped I’d run into you one of these days. I’ve been here all summer. But I heard you were out in Los Angeles.”
Logan yielded the sidewalk to a passing woman of a certain age wrapped head to toe in tasteful summer black Chanel, accompanied by two equally regal Labradoodles. Walking the dogs after midnight dressed to kill was just so New York.
“I have been. For the last eight months,” she explained.
“Which would account for the Los Angeles accessory, also known as me,” Sam put in. She stepped forward and extended a hand; Anna was embarrassed that she hadn’t yet made the introduction. That wasn’t like her.
“Oh, sorry, Sam.” Anna quickly introduced them. “So, what have you been doing with yourself, Logan?”
“Tonight? Just got back from a party. A guy I know from St. Paul’s just came into his trust fund. Be glad you weren’t there. He was trying to do a Jell-O shot for each million he just inherited—not the brightest idea when twelve million bucks is involved.” Logan paused as Anna bit her lip. She
was
glad she hadn’t been there. She would have been appalled.
“Are you working for the summer?” Sam queried. “Or just leading the lifestyle of the rich and infamous?”
“Working. I’m a writer’s assistant. With Danforth Marsh? He—”
“Won the Pulitzer Prize three years ago,” Anna filled in. “I loved his last short-story collection.
Tree Rings
. I read it four times.”
“Well, I’ll pass along your enthusiasm. He’s doing a reading of his new novel at the Ninety-second Street Y later in the week. You should come.”
“I’d love to!” Anna found herself saying. She couldn’t help but notice that Logan’s childhood cuteness had turned into eighteen-year-old hotness. But what also impressed her was the kindness that seemed to be emanating from those deep-set eyes. Standing here on their shared block, talking under a streetlight, just felt so comfortable.
“If we’re still here next week,” Sam clarified. “We’ve got to go back to L.A.”
At the mention of those two little letters Anna’s stomach twisted like taffy. The thought of returning in a week seemed way too soon. Now that she was standing on familiar cracked concrete, hearing the never-ending traffic roll north on one-way Madison Avenue, and breathing the late summer Upper East Side evening air, she never wanted to leave.
“So how about you?” Logan asked. He sat down on the front step and beckoned for Anna and Sam to join him. They did. “Where are you headed for school in the fall?”
“Yale. And yourself?”
“Harvard. I thought about Yale, because I want to study creative writing. But my parents both went to Harvard, so it’s really a legacy thing. …”
“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt the reunion of the mental titans,” Sam said sweetly. “But we were on our way to get something to eat, remember?”
Anna winced. She knew she was being a bit rude by talking about East Coast things, places, and people that Sam wouldn’t know. “Right, sorry. Logan, we’re on our way to the Olympia. Want to come with us?”
Logan shook his head solemnly. “It’s crazy, but I can’t. Danforth is an early riser. He likes to work from six in the morning till two in the afternoon.”
“He’d never survive in Los Angeles,” Sam quipped.
“Don’t get him started on that subject. He hates L.A. When Ned Tanen was running one of the studios, he once tried to buy one of his short stories. When it turned out Tanen hadn’t read it, Danforth threw a pencil at him. I heard it stuck in his chest. Anyway,” he said, standing, “do you have plans for tomorrow night? Can I take you two to dinner?” Logan asked hopefully.
“I’d love that,” Sam told him. “As long as it’s just you and Anna. My boyfriend
Logan yielded the sidewalk to a passing woman of a certain age wrapped head to toe in tasteful summer black Chanel, accompanied by two equally regal Labradoodles. Walking the dogs after midnight dressed to kill was just so New York.
“I have been. For the last eight months,” she explained.
“Which would account for the Los Angeles accessory, also known as me,” Sam put in. She stepped forward and extended a hand; Anna was embarrassed that she hadn’t yet made the introduction. That wasn’t like her.
“Oh, sorry, Sam.” Anna quickly introduced them. “So, what have you been doing with yourself, Logan?”
“Tonight? Just got back from a party. A guy I know from St. Paul’s just came into his trust fund. Be glad you weren’t there. He was trying to do a Jell-O shot for each million he just inherited—not the brightest idea when twelve million bucks is involved.” Logan paused as Anna bit her lip. She
was
glad she hadn’t been there. She would have been appalled.
“Are you working for the summer?” Sam queried. “Or just leading the lifestyle of the rich and infamous?”
“Working. I’m a writer’s assistant. With Danforth Marsh? He—”
“Won the Pulitzer Prize three years ago,” Anna filled in. “I loved his last short-story collection.
Tree Rings
. I read it four times.”
“Well, I’ll pass along your enthusiasm. He’s doing a reading of his new novel at the Ninety-second Street Y later in the week. You should come.”
“I’d love to!” Anna found herself saying. She couldn’t help but notice that Logan’s childhood cuteness had turned into eighteen-year-old hotness. But what also impressed her was the kindness that seemed to be emanating from those deep-set eyes. Standing here on their shared block, talking under a streetlight, just felt so comfortable.
“If we’re still here next week,” Sam clarified. “We’ve got to go back to L.A.”
At the mention of those two little letters Anna’s stomach twisted like taffy. The thought of returning in a week seemed way too soon. Now that she was standing on familiar cracked concrete, hearing the never-ending traffic roll north on one-way Madison Avenue, and breathing the late summer Upper East Side evening air, she never wanted to leave.
“So how about you?” Logan asked. He sat down on the front step and beckoned for Anna and Sam to join him. They did. “Where are you headed for school in the fall?”
“Yale. And yourself?”
“Harvard. I thought about Yale, because I want to study creative writing. But my parents both went to Harvard, so it’s really a legacy thing. …”
“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt the reunion of the mental titans,” Sam said sweetly. “But we were on our way to get something to eat, remember?”
Anna winced. She knew she was being a bit rude by talking about East Coast things, places, and people that Sam wouldn’t know. “Right, sorry. Logan, we’re on our way to the Olympia. Want to come with us?”
Logan shook his head solemnly. “It’s crazy, but I can’t. Danforth is an early riser. He likes to work from six in the morning till two in the afternoon.”
“He’d never survive in Los Angeles,” Sam quipped.
“Don’t get him started on that subject. He hates L.A. When Ned Tanen was running one of the studios, he once tried to buy one of his short stories. When it turned out Tanen hadn’t read it, Danforth threw a pencil at him. I heard it stuck in his chest. Anyway,” he said, standing, “do you have plans for tomorrow night? Can I take you two to dinner?” Logan asked hopefully.
“I’d love that,” Sam told him. “As long as it’s just you and Anna. My boyfriend
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