Katwalk (29 page)

Chapter Twenty

“You all packed?” Justin asked as he took a seat across from Katrina.

She broke off a piece of scone and nodded. “All set.”

He gestured to the tan suede jacket she had on, another gem sh
e’d
found at a consignment store. “Given how you never seem to wear the same outfit twice, I’m guessing you have quite a bit more stuff than when you arrived. Did you have to buy another suitcase?”

“Perhaps. You have a problem with that, sir?” She gave him a look of mock indignation, but she was secretly thrilled to be classified as any kind of fashionista—and that h
e’d
noticed what she wore.

He laughed. “If you need to leave anything at my place while you’re in California, you’re more than welcome to.”

“I’m fine, but thanks for the offer. I’m actually storing most of my stuff at Grace’s apartment.” She wondered what his house was like though. Sh
e’d
learned he owned a single-family brownstone on East Twenty-Third and now lived there alone. Were he and his wife still speaking? Though she was curious, she didn’t want to be intrusive.

“What time are you leaving for the airport?” Justin asked.

“Not until two. My flight’s at four o’clock.”

“I’m sorry I can’t drive you there.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have a pretty good excuse. How are you feeling?”

“About my meeting?”

She nodded.

“Not great. I never imagined
I’d
be hiring a divorce lawyer to handle the separation of assets. To be honest, it sounds like something out of a soap opera.”

Katrina frowned. “I’m so sorry. It’s bound to get easier once you get through this part, right?”

He shrugged. “That’s what I keep telling myself. That and
it’s for the best
.”

“It
is
for the best. I’m sure of it. You deserve so much better.
No one
deserves to be treated like that, especially not you.”

“I appreciate that. So what do you have there?” He pointed at a rectangular item propped against her chair. It was thin and wrapped in brown construction paper.

She felt her cheeks get a bit warm. “This? Um, well, this is for you.” She reached down to pick it up, then handed it to him.

“For me?” He looked genuinely surprised. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

He glanced over at the cash register. There was just one customer there, and Peter was taking care of him.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a painting Katrina had done on the Brooklyn Promenade. It featured a lone empty bench, seen from the back. The Brooklyn Bridge rose up in the background on one side of it, the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan on the other, but they were intentionally blurry, almost too blurry to make out at all. Only the bench was in focus—in addition to two items sitting on top.

A
New York Times
and a paper coffee cup.

Justin studied the painting. “Wow. It’s beautiful, Kat.”

She blushed. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“No, really, I’m not just saying it.”

“I thought it might be nice for you to look at New York City from a different angle, especially now. For, um, you know, a couple of reasons.”

“Thank you. I love it.”

She pointed to the paper cup in the painting. “That’s a skim latte, by the way.”

He laughed. “No blueberry scone?”

“Maybe in the next one.”

“I hope there is a next one.” He held her gaze for a moment, and her pulse began to quicken. Could he tell how she felt?

Just before the silence turned awkward, he broke it. “I sincerely appreciate the thought, Kat. Thank you again.” He stood up and tucked the painting under his arm.

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Katrina was just descending the front steps of her building when the town car pulled up to the curb. “Thanks for picking me up, Enrique. I’m so glad I didn’t lose your card.”

“That makes two of us, Miss Katrina. Did you have a nice time in New York?” He loaded her bags into the trunk, then opened the door for her and closed it behind her as she buckled her seat belt.

“I did, thanks. A wonderful time.”

“Sad to be leaving us?”

“Not really.”

He frowned as they pulled into the street. “Had enough?”

“The opposite, actually. I’m not headed home for long—just enough time to pack up and move back here.”

“Is that so? For good?”

“
I’d
say for
. . .
indefinitely.”

“I guess you’ll have to hang on to my card then.” He winked into the rearview mirror.

She smiled back. “I guess I will.”

As the sedan rolled out of Manhattan toward JFK, Katrina mulled over how much had changed since sh
e’d
taken this trip in the opposite direction.

Professionally.

Personally.

Physically.

Her whole life was different now.

She wondered what else the future might hold for her, and the uncertainty was exhilarating.

“Did your parents freak out when you told them you’re packing up and moving to New York in a few weeks?” Deb put her car in reverse and craned her neck to look behind her as she pulled out of the parking spot. It was eight hours later, and they were in the short-term lot at SFO. “I bet your mom lost it.”

Katrina scrunched up her nose. “I sort of
. . .
haven’t told them yet.”

Deb snapped her head back around. “You’re joking.”

Katrina pressed her palms against her cheeks. “I couldn’t do it, Deb. I really wanted to, but they were so excited about the job offer, especially my mother. When I told her about it, she sounded so, I don’t know,
proud
of me. And you know she’s never proud of me.”

“Oh please, she’s proud of you. She just has a hard time showing it.”

“
Hard
is an understatement.”

“So you choked and didn’t say anything about anything?”

“You could say that.”

“Why didn’t you just e-mail them the news?”

Katrina sighed. “I couldn’t. My father ingrained in me that important conversations
must
involve a human voice.”

“How about voice mail? You could have left a message when you knew they weren’t home. That’s what I would have done.”

“Not helping, Deb. I need to tell them in person, or they’ll forever hold it over my head how rude I was.”

Deb laughed. “Remind me to be far, far away when that conversation takes place. As in on the moon.”

“Ugh. I’m so glad they’re out of town right now. I’m not ready to face them.”

“Where are they?”

“They had a wedding to attend in Santa Barbara over the weekend and are taking a few days to explore the coast on the way home. They get back the day after tomorrow.”

“So that gives you time to give notice on your place? That way there’s no turning back?”

Katrina nodded. “That’s my plan.”

“Not a bad one, actually. It’ll force your hand a little bit, not that you need any forcing these days. You’re like a new woman.”

Katrina looked out the window as they merged onto the freeway. “Thanks. I kind of
feel
like a new woman.”
Finally
.

“Are you going to ask your parents to start calling you
Kat
?”

Katrina coughed. “Can you imagine? Talk about pouring gasoline on the fire. My mother would throw a fit.”

“Where are you meeting them?”

“Sundance in Palo Alto.”

“Sweet. Nothing like a fat steak dinner at Sundance, regardless of who’s on the other side of the table.”

Katrina put a hand on her stomach. “Unfortunately, I have a feeling I’m not going to have much of an appetite.”

“What about now? You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Want to stop by Stephens Green for a bite?”

“Can we pick up my car at my parents’ house first?”

“Sure. I cleared my whole evening for you.”

Katrina looked at her. “You did?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m flattered.”

“It’s not every day my best friend comes back to town. And besides, I have nothing to eat in my fridge, so with or without you, I’m going out to dinner.”

Katrina laughed. “Now I remember why I’ve missed you so much.”

“Wow. This place is empty,” Katrina said.

Deb glanced up from her menu and looked around the restaurant. “It is?”

“There are exactly four other people here.” Katrina gestured to a couple sitting a few tables away from them, then at two men sitting separately at the bar, both of whom were watching a soccer game on the wall-mounted TV.

“So? It’s a Tuesday at six
o’c
lock.”

“Was Stephens Green always like this?”

“Like this what?”

“This, I don’t know
. . .
dead
?”

Deb laughed. “We’re in
Mountain View
, my friend. It’s always like this.”

“It is?”

“It is. Look who became a big-city girl.”

Katrina thought of her first night in Manhattan, when sh
e’d
gone for a beer with Shana, Josh, and Grace. The memory replayed in her head like a movie—hearing the story of how Shana and Josh became a couple, seeing Grace’s jewelry for the first time, being overwhelmed by her new surroundings. That had also been a Tuesday, and sh
e’d
been shocked at how crowded the bar had been. Stephens Green tonight seemed like a ghost town by comparison.

Has it really always been like this?

The place also looked different, but she couldn’t put her finger on how.

What is it?

“Hello? You there?” Deb snapped her fingers.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Deb cocked her head to the right. A waitress was standing there, notepad in hand, waiting patiently for Katrina to order.

“I’m sorry. I’ll have a garden salad with chicken and a Sprite, thank you.”

“Got it.” The waitress turned on her heel and left.

“Are you okay?” Deb gave her a look. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine. Just a little disoriented, I guess.”

“Culture shock?”

Katrina laughed weakly. “Maybe a little.”

“I thought that might happen.”

“You did?”

“Of course. New York and Mountain View might as well be on different planets.”

Katrina nodded. “I expected it going out there, but I never really gave any thought to what it would be like when I came back.”

The waitress set down their drinks and left again. Deb held up her glass of wine for a toast. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings.”

Deb clinked her glass against Katrina’s, then frowned. “I’m so jealous. I can’t believe I never got to visit you out there. Stupid promotion.”

“Don’t say that. You worked hard for that promotion, and you deserved it. Plus I suspect you love your fancy new title and everything that goes with it.”

“Okay, maybe I do. But I still feel like I missed out.”

Katrina took a sip of her Sprite. “Well, you’ll have another chance to come visit me. I
love
my new neighborhood.”

“What’s it called again?”

“Brooklyn Heights. It’s right across the Brooklyn Bridge, super quaint, lots of brownstones, very
Sesame Street
.”