Meet Me in Manhattan (True Vows) (5 page)

So when she got back from her horse show on Saturday, with a
new ribbon to add to the scores she already possessed, she
napped, showered, and shampooed the heavy perfume of leather
and sweat and hay and horse from her hair. When Laura pulled
into her driveway at a few minutes past eight that evening, Erika
climbed into her car, gave her friend a smile and said, "Here I am."

Laura drove out into the country. Erika was used to the hills and
forests, meadows and split-log fences, but she still responded to the
beauty of northwestern New Jersey's landscape. If only she had a
modicum of artistic talent, she'd capture the pastoral scenery in a
painting. She was in awe of people who could paint and draw and
sculpt. All she seemed able to do was earn good grades and ride.

She assured herself that that was enough.

She wasn't one of those girls who got all insecure and selfconscious at parties. As a competitive rider, she'd developed a
level of confidence that was probably disproportionately high,
given that she was cursed with her fair share of flaws and shortcomings. She'd learned that if you lacked confidence, you
couldn't compete in show jumping. The horse would feel your
fear, and you wouldn't be able to commit to the jump.

The lessons learned on the back of a horse stayed with a rider
once her boots were planted on the ground. She saw no point in
second-guessing herself. If she was filled with doubt, she'd fall, so
she refused to admit to any doubt.

The party was already going strong by the time she and Laura
descended the stairs to the rec room of the sprawling mansion.
Music blasted from a pair of floor speakers-Pearl Jam-and at
least thirty kids filled the room, a couple playing a SEGA game on
the TV in the corner with a small audience surrounding them
and shouting advice, a cluster of kids near the sliding glass doors
that opened onto a backyard patio, another cluster crammed
onto a pair of overstuffed couches, clutching cans of soda and
beer and emptying a gigantic bowl of popcorn, which made the
room smell like the lobby of a movie theater. Allyson sat on one
of the couches, surrounded by her usual posse of cool friends.
The minute she saw Erika, she shifted on the couch and patted
the cushion. "Erika! Come eat some of this popcorn before I eat
it all," she said.

Erika wiggled her butt into the narrow space on the couch
between Allyson and Ted Skala. Fortunately, Ted was pretty skinny
and she was able to squeeze in. Or maybe he was just happy to
inch closer to his girlfriend Kate, who sat on his other side, a can
of light beer clutched in her hand.

"Hey, Fred," Ted greeted her. "How's it going?"

"Great," she said, filled with a sudden rush of delight. Laura
had been right to drag her to this party. She'd ridden well, she'd
rested, and now she was surrounded by laughing, chattering, popcorn-devouring compatriots who welcomed her into their midst.

She spotted Laura near the cooler chest, wrestling a can of soda
from the ice. As Laura straightened, her gaze met Erika's and she
raised the can in a toast. Erika grinned as a scruffy guy wearing a
sweatshirt that identified him as a student from Delbarton, a private all-boys academy just up the road from Mendham, moved in
on Laura. From across the room, Erika could tell when Laura was
connecting with her inner flirt. Laura's eyes grew wide, her smile
turned mysterious, and the Delbarton boy didn't have a chance.

Someday Erika ought to consider taking flirting lessons from
Laura. But her lack of flirting skills didn't bother her. She didn't
want a boyfriend. She'd dated two boys since moving to
Mendham-one wasn't exactly a boy, and as it had turned out, he
wasn't exactly appropriate, either. The other had been a lacrosse
player at the high school-and she found that life was a lot simpler without boys or love or sexual pressures or flirtations.

She had no time for love. But on a cold Saturday night after a
good day's ride, she had friends and music and a handful of popcorn to stuff into her mouth. More than that she didn't want.

AFTER A WHILE YOU START TO WONDER why every time you
go to a party Laura Maher has told you about, Erika Fredell is there,
too. Sure, Laura and Erika have been friends since before Erika
moved to Mendham. But still, it's kind of funny how often Laura
calls and says, "You've really, really got to come to this party, Ted,"
and you go, and Erika is there.

Maybe it's not funny. Maybe it's not worth noting at all. Maybe
Laura calls up everyone she knows and tells them they really, really
have to go to this or that party, and you and Erika are the only
people who actually obey Laura when she starts spewing the really's.

Maybe you're just aware of the coincidence because you're so
aware of Erika. Because she's the coolest girl you've ever known, and
you love the fact that you and she are actually friends, however
superficially. Because you want to be more than friends with her.

Which is nuts, because you've already got a girlfriend, and Erika
obviously isn't interested in anything more than friendship with
you. And why should she be? She's rich. She's smart. She's a champion rider. She's in a class by herself

At least you can count her as a friend. At least she doesn't hesitate
to plunk herself down on the sofa next to you when she arrives at a
party and send you a gorgeous smile that makes your pulse rate accel erate.

With someone like Erika, you take what you can get. In your
book, friendship is worth a lot. Especially her friendship. So if you
can't have more than friendship with her, you accept what you can
have, and you're grateful for it.

Ted felt like an asshole. There he was, his arm slung around
Kate, whom he'd been dating for months, and all he could think
of was that Erika Fredell was sitting next to him. The couch was
so crowded that every time she moved, he felt her-her elbow
poking his ribs, her shoulder bumping his, her thigh pressed
against his. Her hair brushing his cheek like a whisper of silk
when she turned her head.

He wished Kate would get up and go somewhere. Just to give
them all a little more room on the sofa, he told himself, but this
wasn't about comfort. Although sandwiched between the girl he
was seeing and the girl he had a crush on was kind of an uncomfortable place to wind up.

As if he'd spoken his preference out loud, Kate abruptly
pushed herself to her feet, one hand on the arm of the sofa and
the other on Ted's knee. Ordinarily, having a pretty girl's hand on
his knee would turn him on. But as he stared at Kate's fingers
pressed into his leg, all he could think of was, I wish Erika's hand
was there. Kate said something about someone who'd just
arrived, and she leaned over and kissed his cheek-not the cheek
Erika's hair had brushed against-and he nodded and grinned
and pretended to be hugely interested in whatever the hell she
was telling him. Then she spun away and crossed the room to
where a couple of other girls were standing, and Ted was able to
shift on the sofa, putting a sliver of space between himself and
Erika.

Much as he missed the contact of her thigh against his, moving a couple of inches from her enabled him to turn so he could
look at her. The smile she gave him was dazzling. But then, he was
pretty much dazzled by anything she did.

"So, here we are again," she said cheerfully. "Every party I go
to, I see you."

"I'm such a party animal," he joked, secretly thrilled that she'd
also noticed how Laura was always inviting them both to the
same parties. "How's it going?" he asked.

"I'm tired," she said, though she looked refreshed and downright sparkling to him.

"Yeah, life is boring, isn't it." I'm Too Sexy started playing and
Ted sang along, doctoring the words to fit Erika: "I'm too sleepy
for my shirt ..."

She laughed. "Listen to you sing. You have well-hidden talents."

"Oh, yeah, I'm a really good singer," he bragged, then
shrugged. "My mother made all us kids participate in choir from
an early age. So I learned how to sing. I was even the lead singer
in a rock band for a few minutes."

"No kidding?"

"We sucked," he added with a laugh. "We played at a school
dance once, and managed to empty the room in no time flat." He
took a swig from the bottle of beer he was holding, then extended
it to her when he noticed she didn't have a drink.

To his great delight, she took the bottle, raised it to her lips and
sipped. He liked knowing her lips closed around the glass where
his had just been. "I took a nap but I'm still tired," she told him
as she handed the bottle back. "I rode in a show today. I had to
get up before dawn."

"Where do you find the energy?" he asked, genuinely impressed.

"I don't. That's why I took a nap." Because he'd given her a
little more room on the couch, she was able to settle deeper into
the cushions. Her hair swayed gently around her face, straight
and glossy, and he was glad to see she wasn't wearing lipstick.
Kate wore lipstick all the time, and it made her mouth taste funny
when they kissed. "You probably slept 'til noon."

"I did not," he defended himself. "I was up at dawn, too."

"I was up before dawn," she reminded him.

Her competitive spirit amused him. "You got up before dawn
and rode horses. I got up at dawn and fed sheep."

"You have sheep?"

"Two sheep. Ba Ba and Bunky."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ba Ba? That's its name?"

He launched into another song: "`Baa baa, black sheep ...'
Only our sheep aren't black."

"So, you fed the sheep," she said, her eyes glowing with amusement. "I didn't know you were a farm boy."

"Yeah, that's me. And then-in case you thought I went back
to bed after feeding the sheep, and the ducks, and the rabbits-"

"My God, it's a whole menagerie," she said.

"We've got a big barn, and my mother likes to keep it filled. I'm
lucky she doesn't make me live there."

"I suppose you're a little neater than the sheep and the ducks."

"A little. But the rabbits are so neat they're practically anal."

That she laughed at his stupid joke pleased him enormously.

"And then I spent the day helping my dad grout the bathroom.

"Wow. That must have been fun." Sarcasm filtered through
her tone.

Sealing the bathroom tiles with fresh grout wasn't exactly fun,
but Ted was used to helping his father with home repairs. When you lived in a nearly two-hundred-year-old house, things were
always falling apart and demanding attention. Ted and his brothers and sister had grown up learning how to deal with dry rot, how
to unclog pipes, how to change a fuse and rewire a light switch
without electrocuting themselves. When his parents asked for
assistance from their children, they received it. Sometimes eagerly,
sometimes begrudgingly, but Ted's parents worked damned hard
and they deserved whatever assistance they asked for.

He could have thought of a dozen things he'd rather be doing
that day than smearing white paste around the tiles edging the
bathtub. Sleeping until noon would have made his short list.
Meeting his friends and driving somewhere. Taking in a movie,
maybe, or heading down to the shore, even though it was off season. Especially because it was off season and the beach would be
empty, the boardwalk shuttered and peaceful. Or just going to
someone's house, listening to tunes, playing Ghouls 'N Ghosts.
Or driving west into Pennsylvania and catching a wrestling meet
at Lehigh University. That school was a wrestling powerhouse;
Ted and his teammates could probably learn a hell of a lot just by
watching the Lehigh boys do their thing on the mat.

But when his dad said he needed help, Ted helped. With his
older brothers one foot into adulthood and independence, he
helped even more. His parents were getting older, and the house
was already too old.

"The problem with the grouting," he told Erika before drinking a little more beer, "is that the ghosts eat it."