The Charm Bracelet (5 page)

His mother had been raised by Italian immigrants in Alphabet City
– just near the East Village in Manhattan; they had worked in an Italian deli ‘every day of every hour of my life, until they both dropped dead’, she would tell Greg. She had only two photos of her childhood. One was a black-and-white shot of her in a bassinet on top of a freezer in the deli, her face a pink smudge, her mother in the photo too, her arm resting on the meat-slicer. The other photo was of her in high school, taken by a professional photographer. She was striking a Grace Kelly-like pose, her head titled slightly, looking past the camera wistfully.

His grandparents’ deli had changed hands many times since and had finally closed in 1990, a victim of poor management by the then-current owners. The modest three-storey building had finally been torn down and a twenty-three-floor high-rise built in its place.

Driving around in Queens last week had energised Greg, given him purpose, made him realise he had made the right decision. He hadn’t truly noticed until after 9/11 how much and how fast the city changed. The bulk of his photography work so far had been on the buildings protected by the Landmarks Preservation Commission; those that were deemed historical and would never be torn down.

But who was to say that his grandparents’ deli, owned and operated from 1936 to 1990, wasn’t a historical building as well? And since those types of buildings weren’t protected, maybe those were the landmarks he should be concentrating on?

Greg felt a jolt of energy like an electric shock shoot through his body and right out of the top of his head. That could be his next project, photographing local, architecturally nondescript buildings that were in fact the lifeblood of the city, but were disappearing all too soon?

Greg smiled.

If this was what loving what you did for a living felt like, then bring it on.

Later that afternoon, Greg pushed open the door of his Upper Seventies East Side brownstone feeling like a brand-new man. After leaving the office, he had picked up a coffee and walked almost the entire way from the Financial District back home, stopping to hail a cab only when the wind and the snow started whipping his face violently. He wasn’t usually adverse to winter weather, but there was only so much a cab-loving New Yorker could take.

But now, as he got home, he was eager to get out of his suit, shed his corporate work uniform and get on with the next part of his life. He figured there was no time like the present. So, first things first, he was going to organise all of his camera equipment and start documenting the work that was already on
film. If he was going to start a new career, then he was going to have to make sure he stayed on task.

He smiled to himself, feeling giddy with excitement. And just a little bit nervous. He hadn’t told Karen yet about his decision to quit and he felt slightly guilty that he had left her out of the loop. But, then again, she always had stood behind him. He couldn’t imagine
it would be any different now. He loved her and she loved him. After all, they had been committed to each other now for almost three years and it was time to start thinking about what came next. He was sure she would be fine with his decision.

He also had the rest of the day to think about how he was going to tell her. After all, it was just past lunchtime and she wouldn’t be home for hours yet. Karen worked at Macy’s, in the advertising department, and Christmas was one of their busiest times.

Greg still couldn’t believe that he’d bitten the bullet and that for him there would be no more working late hours in a cramped office, no more slaving away on Christmas Eve or skipping parties because his boss wanted him at his desk for no good reason. Nope, no more of that. From now on,
he
was the boss.

Greg walked inside the foyer of the townhouse and suddenly had a funny feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He slipped off his shoes, trying to be extra-vigilant about not tracking snow across the wooden floors. Karen hated when puddles accumulated on the polished oak; she was convinced that if the wood became warped it would affect the resale value of the house which, for all intents and purposes, was prime real estate.

No arguing with her there
, thought Greg, realising where the sudden feeling of worry came from. Admittedly, the place was almost paid off. He had written a cheque for a considerable chunk of the mortgage with his last bonus. But it had been his job that had funded the creation of this beautiful home, from its initial purchase to the remodelling that Karen had helped him with, right down to the littlest details provided by a (very expensive) interior designer. Greg also knew that he was sitting on a nice savings account. And, of course, he had always made sure he funded his retirement account, so he felt perfectly stable. But …

Just might have to be a little more conscious of what we are spending, at least until business takes off, he thought. He put his briefcase down and slid it under a side table in the entryway. It was only then that he noticed that Karen’s handbag was there. Was she home?

‘Karen? Honey?’ he called out.

He heard the click-clack of her stilettos from deep inside the apartment making their way to the front. When Karen emerged into view, he found her resplendent in an Armani suit of deep red that showed off her trim figure. Her light blonde hair was pulled back in an expertly coiffed knot at the nape of her neck that showed off her Swedish cheekbones and flawless complexion.
As usual there wasn’t a hair out of place. Her makeup was always perfect and Greg suspected that she had help from the counter girls in the actual store, although Karen never admitted to it. ‘I barely wear any: that’s all you need to know,’ she would playfully chide him.

Greg’s heart sped up as he looked at her. Brains as well as beauty, and she was all hi
s
the whole package. However, the only thing that was missing from that whole package at the moment was a smile.

‘Hey babe, what are you doing home? I didn’t expect you until later,’ he asked smiling. He reached forward to kiss her on the cheek.

‘I was Uptown for a meeting this morning, so I decided to just come home for lunch. And I could say the same for you,’ she replied arching an eyebrow. ‘What’s going on? Why are
you
home? Let me guess, did the office lose power because of this weather? I swear to God, I don’t know why more backup generators aren’t used. The threat of data loss alone—’

Greg smiled and cut her off. ‘No, babe, nothing like that. Actually—’

‘Then why … what happened?’ Karen’s face changed suddenly. ‘Oh my God, did you get fired? Did they fire you? Jesus Christ on a cracker. Is this about that one account of yours? Carmichael, that son-of-a-bitch … ’

Greg had to admit, he loved her intensity and the way her mind worked, but sometimes she could be really dramatic. With event marketing he guessed it came with the territory. ‘Karen, honey, no. I didn’t get fired. Everything is OK.’

‘Oh thank goodness. Don’t do that to me ever again.’

She took a deep breath
and raised a hand to the back of her hair, as if making sure she was still well put together in light of her recent scare.

.

‘It’s not that. Like I said, I didn’t get fired,’ he continued, unable to resist a smile. ‘Actually, I quit!’ He laughed as if the admission out loud had allowed his soul to take flight right there in the middle of their foyer.

The smile dropped from Karen’s face. ‘You what?’

Greg grinned even more brightly. ‘I quit. I told them all to shove it this morning. I’m not going to go through another holiday season working eighteen-hour days and missing out on life. I have bigger and better things to do, we both do. Like my folks always say, we should work to live, not live to work. And now you and I have the opportunity to spend more time together, and I can help Dad out more too, try and make things easier for everyone. So what do you think?’

He reached forward and pulled Karen towards him, encircling her with his arms, but she didn’t melt into his embrace like she usually did. Greg looked at her, suddenly nervous.

‘Well I … don’t know what to think.’

He frowned. ‘But I thought you’d be happy. You’re always talking about how we can never go anywhere as a couple because I’m forever stuck at the office. That’s all changed now.’

‘Greg, I’m happy for
you
, but not happy for
us
.’ she said shortly. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to do any of this; I thought we’d be making decisions together by now. This … you quitting your job is a big deal, one that really affects our future. A one-income household … ’ she shook her head.

Money … was that all she was worried about? Greg felt relieved.

‘Oh honey,’ he grabbed her hands and held them. ‘Things will change a little, that’s all, just for a little while. Maybe not so much eating out, or as many cab rides … no big deal.’

‘Not as many cab rides … you
are
planning on working somehow?’

Greg barked a laugh. ‘Of course I am. I was just getting round to that bit.’ He smiled. ‘I can’t believe you thought I was just going to turn into some unemployed bum … ’

Karen exhaled. ‘Phew. So have you been interviewing? Why didn’t you tell me? Is this about that executive position at Wells Fargo? I remember you mentioning it to your dad ages ago, but then didn’t hear anything about it. It is, isn’t it?’ She smiled broadly. ‘Oh my God, Greg, this is fantastic – we should go to St Barts for Christmas to celebrate!’

Not meeting her gaze, Greg grimaced.

Indeed, he had spoken briefly to his dad and Karen about an open position at Wells Fargo a while back. He had even interviewed for it, and had been offered the job, but ended up passing on it. In essence, while the move would have been vertical, it would have meant even longer hours, the last thing he wanted. He didn’t think that taking it would have improved anything other than his bank account. Because of this, he had never mentioned his decision on the offer to Karen. He knew he should have, and realised now it was a sort of sin of omission – but really, what was the point in bringing it up in the first place? Especially if he had already decided it wasn’t for him?

And as for going to St Barts for Christmas this year
with everything else that was happening? Not a chance.

He pulled away gingerly and looked down at her glowing face, now realising that maybe he should have told her about the Wells Fargo decision, or even in advance of the choice he had made today. Did he mess this up?

‘Actually, this isn’t about the Wells Fargo position,’ he replied. ‘Come on, let’s go in the living room. I’ll tell you all about it.’

He led the way down the hallway that opened up into the entertainment-friendly kitchen-cum-living room. Karen followed him hesitantly, as if she was Superman and he had just offered her a surprise that might well be laced with Kryptonite.

‘Come on, babe, sit down,’ Greg smiled encouragingly as he took her hand and led her to the Pottery Barn couch that she’d insisted they get a month ago. Karen had moved into the townhouse over a year before, and since then he had accumulated considerably more than twice as many possessions. He thought back quickly, trying to remember if he had put that piece of furniture on a credit card or had paid cash for it.

It was cash, he recalled eventually, feeling slightly better that it wasn’t accruing interest right that minute.

Karen sat down and crossed her legs. ‘OK, so if it’s not Wells Fargo, where is it?’ She was still talking interviews. ‘Where’s the new position, and when do you start?’

‘Well, actually I start today,’ he said simply. He had felt so confident this morning that she would be excited by his decision, by his choice to be his own boss. Now he hoped he hadn’t been wrong and overplayed his hand.

Her eyebrows went up. ‘Today? You quit your job today and you are going to start somewhere new?’ She pulled up the sleeve of her suit jacket and looked at the Movado watch he had bought her last Christmas. ‘But it’s almost two o’clock. How are you starting a new job today?’

‘Well, here’s the kicker … ’ he smiled. ‘I am going to be my own boss. I’m starting my own business.’

Silence permeated the room and Greg shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Eventually he cleared his throat. ‘I have been playing around with this idea of starting my own company, a photography business. You know, ever since I sold the Flatiron shot. It’s what I love doing and … ’ he shrugged. ‘I figured that there was real potential there.’

He studied her face, hoping for encouragement, or any hint in her expression that she approved of his decision.

‘Photography?’ Karen said quietly. She cast her eyes down, as if she was having a problem meeting his gaze.

‘Yes,’ he said with resolution.

‘A photography business?’ she clarified, still not looking at him. ‘Freelance, you mean?’ She finally turned her eyes towards him, and even though she was questioning him to clarify his intentions, he noticed that her expression was full of worry, and her voice lacked confidence.

‘Well, I suppose you could describe it like that. But really, I have a lot of ideas about growing my client base—’

‘You mean beginning,’ she said, interrupting him.

‘What?’

‘Beginning your client base … starting it,’ she said bluntly. ‘You don’t have a client base to grow.’

He shifted in his seat as he considered the reality of her statement. ‘Well, yes, but all entrepreneurs have to start somewhere and, like I said, I have a lot of ideas. The only way to go is up. And I think I can really do something with this, Karen, be successful, but also really enjoy it too. You know … Mom always thought that I had a knack for this sort of thing; she thought that—’

‘Greg, come on,’ Karen interjected sharply. ‘Of course your mother said she loved your photos. All mothers love their kids’ work. Have you ever seen a mother who didn’t put up a finger painting on their refrigerator? They’re supposed to do that.’ She sat back and sighed. ‘I really wish you would have talked to me before you did something this rash. Do you think that you can go back to Dave and apologise? Say you changed your mind?’

Greg recoiled at her words. He had to admit they stung. She was more or less calling him a delusional Mommy’s boy; she had taken everything completely out of context.

‘That’s not what I was trying to say, Karen. No, I can’t go back. And yes, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have said something about this, but I thought you’d be happy I was out of the rat race. I believe in it and I know I can make this work. Come on, you’ve always had faith in me. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Now we will all have more time together. And time is important Karen, now more than ever.’ He wished that he didn’t sound so pleading, as if he was asking for permission.

‘
I understand what you’re saying and that’s all fine and good but Greg, New York is an expensive city. I don’t think I have to tell you that.’

‘Come on now. Of course I know that. And I have thought about this, we will be fine. You still have your salary, and I have a nice nest egg – it will keep us in a good position until the business grows. OK, of course
it means we’ll have to cut back in a couple of areas, a few austerity measures, as they say, but nothing serious. And it will all be worth it in the end.
’