like tatted lace across the linoleum, photographs to lay down and say See? Don’t leave. Nursery school Mother’s Day cards maybe, made with blue construction paper and white paste and glitter, sitting on the shelf next to the Kleenex. Ticket stubs from great concerts, when the music lifts you for an evening. Old silent 8mm home movies from a walk on the beach when you wore that big straw sunhat, during a summer vacation when you stayed in a little white cottage, flower boxes filled with scarlet geraniums and snow white petunias, a film you’d run through a projector and watch with a teary smile.
“I can’t believe this. I’ll get my bag packed and call Melissa,” Tom is saying. “Maybe she knows something.”
“Okay. That’s good.”
He gives her his cell phone number. “I’ll be waiting for your calls. And Rachel? If you find her? Or if she shows up?”
Two days of tears streak her face now thinking of a whole life of 8mm home movies.
“Just tell her we miss her. The kids, too. And to call. To just God damn call.”
“Okay,” she says softly, nodding. Before he can say more, she sets the phone in the cradle.
“Maybe I should have brought her husband in from the start and let him handle this.”
“Why didn’t you?” Michael asks.
“I don’t know. Her note asked that I keep this secret, and we’ve always done little favors like that for each other.”
“Rachel, this is pretty big.”
“Oh, so were the others. I mean, you would think they were little, but they weren’t.”
They are on the eighty-sixth floor observatory of the Empire State Building, standing side by side above the city. The wind always blows this high up, but this wind has spring in it, and a little of the sunshine left to the May day while dusk falls.
“Like I took her daughters on day trips after she brought the new baby home. She had a hard time adjusting to Owen. And when my daughter was born,” Rachel smiles with the memory, “I was young and overwhelmed with being a new mother. The hardest thing was making supper, so Sara froze two weeks of dinners for me. I know, big deal, she cooked some dinners. But at the time, it saved my sanity.” She looks at him. “That’s why I’m waiting. Maybe I’m saving her sanity.”
The sun starts setting, leaving the streets below looking like silver ribbons. Building lights come on, twinkling like stars. Michael points out a few landmarks before asking Rachel what she keeps putting off herself. “It seems that by waiting for her, you believe she’ll come back. What if she doesn’t?” He takes her arm and steers her around a group of tourists passing too closely.
“I can’t even think about that. I feel bad that I knew something was off with her, but I let it go, thinking it was just a rough patch, maybe a little grief from losing her mom. So I owe her this much, this waiting. She’s my best friend, you know? Tom’s not too happy about this, but I’ll see what he says when he gets here.”
“That’ll be good. It’ll take the pressure off of you.”
“She’s worth it,” she says, stopping and looking out at the cityscape.
Michael knows Rachel worries constantly, checking her voicemail, trying Sara’s cell. He drops a quarter into a coin-operated viewer. “Take a look.”
“It’s pretty with the lights coming on in the skyscrapers.”
“Any guess what Manhattan’s very first skyscraper was, back in 1664?”
“Is this another wager?”
“Could be. Loser buys coffee?”
“You’re on.” Rachel considers the skyscrapers. “1664? Maybe a church?”
“Gotcha on this one. A two-story windmill. You’ll have to ante up.”
“A windmill.” The sky turns violet in the east behind the skyline. Rachel pans the viewer, and he figures she must want to turn it downward and scan the street, glancing over the pedestrians, keeping an eye out for that auburn head.
“Take your time,” he tells her, watching her press blowing strands of hair away from
“I can’t believe this. I’ll get my bag packed and call Melissa,” Tom is saying. “Maybe she knows something.”
“Okay. That’s good.”
He gives her his cell phone number. “I’ll be waiting for your calls. And Rachel? If you find her? Or if she shows up?”
Two days of tears streak her face now thinking of a whole life of 8mm home movies.
“Just tell her we miss her. The kids, too. And to call. To just God damn call.”
“Okay,” she says softly, nodding. Before he can say more, she sets the phone in the cradle.
“Maybe I should have brought her husband in from the start and let him handle this.”
“Why didn’t you?” Michael asks.
“I don’t know. Her note asked that I keep this secret, and we’ve always done little favors like that for each other.”
“Rachel, this is pretty big.”
“Oh, so were the others. I mean, you would think they were little, but they weren’t.”
They are on the eighty-sixth floor observatory of the Empire State Building, standing side by side above the city. The wind always blows this high up, but this wind has spring in it, and a little of the sunshine left to the May day while dusk falls.
“Like I took her daughters on day trips after she brought the new baby home. She had a hard time adjusting to Owen. And when my daughter was born,” Rachel smiles with the memory, “I was young and overwhelmed with being a new mother. The hardest thing was making supper, so Sara froze two weeks of dinners for me. I know, big deal, she cooked some dinners. But at the time, it saved my sanity.” She looks at him. “That’s why I’m waiting. Maybe I’m saving her sanity.”
The sun starts setting, leaving the streets below looking like silver ribbons. Building lights come on, twinkling like stars. Michael points out a few landmarks before asking Rachel what she keeps putting off herself. “It seems that by waiting for her, you believe she’ll come back. What if she doesn’t?” He takes her arm and steers her around a group of tourists passing too closely.
“I can’t even think about that. I feel bad that I knew something was off with her, but I let it go, thinking it was just a rough patch, maybe a little grief from losing her mom. So I owe her this much, this waiting. She’s my best friend, you know? Tom’s not too happy about this, but I’ll see what he says when he gets here.”
“That’ll be good. It’ll take the pressure off of you.”
“She’s worth it,” she says, stopping and looking out at the cityscape.
Michael knows Rachel worries constantly, checking her voicemail, trying Sara’s cell. He drops a quarter into a coin-operated viewer. “Take a look.”
“It’s pretty with the lights coming on in the skyscrapers.”
“Any guess what Manhattan’s very first skyscraper was, back in 1664?”
“Is this another wager?”
“Could be. Loser buys coffee?”
“You’re on.” Rachel considers the skyscrapers. “1664? Maybe a church?”
“Gotcha on this one. A two-story windmill. You’ll have to ante up.”
“A windmill.” The sky turns violet in the east behind the skyline. Rachel pans the viewer, and he figures she must want to turn it downward and scan the street, glancing over the pedestrians, keeping an eye out for that auburn head.
“Take your time,” he tells her, watching her press blowing strands of hair away from
Similar Books
