Chapter 1 #2
Mr. Lewis noticed my gaze and began to babble on about the historical buildings, their histories, and what movies had been filmed in which locations.
I listened half-heartedly, content simply gazing at the beauty of the architecture itself.
There were already Christmas decorations adorning the buildings and stores.
We drove past Macy’s and Bloomingdale's, their window displays ornate and exquisite. I could only imagine how ridiculously priced their products were, but window shopping was free and I couldn’t deny their beauty.
Although New York was beautiful, magnificent even, it seemed surreal to label this strange new place as my new home.
But I wasn’t even sure what was home to me anymore.
My home had been in Appling, Georgia, with my Nana, who was now buried at the local cemetery where the trees were still a dark green and the flowers were only now beginning to fade as summer fell into fall.
Home was a foreign concept now. The word rolled around in my brain, reverberating in an echo that felt out of tune.
My chest pulled painfully, and tears stung the back of my eyes. But now that I didn’t have family in Georgia anymore, it didn’t seem right to call it home. I felt like I almost had to leave, like I had been a guest who had overstayed her welcome.
Mr. Lewis’ voice had stopped when he noticed my pained expression.
He looked at me through the rearview mirror. “I know this is tough for you, but you will learn to love it here. New York has something for everybody. You’ll see.”
I nodded, still unconvinced.
Mr. Lewis finally pulled up to a large apartment building that sat across from Central Park.
I wasn’t completely positive, but I knew apartments this close to the park and this deep in the city were expensive.
The building was made of a rich dark stone, and the carpet leading from the street to the glass door was deep green, vacuumed, and pristine.
Mr. Lewis pulled up to the front, where a doorman came to greet us. The doorman opened my car door, smiling. “Welcome to The Evergreen House, Miss Pollard.”
I was about to ask how he knew my name, but decided against it as Mr. Lewis had taken my suitcase and begun to lead me into the grand apartment building.
I followed him in as my eyes took in everything around me.
The rich marble floors and walls, the detailed architecture, and the stunning furniture that circled a blazing fire.
It looked more like a museum than a place where people lived.
The luxury and extravagance of it all startled me, making me question my own appearance. My jeans, dirty sneakers, and oversized sweater fell short of the standard that this grandeur place held. The people who lived in this apartment, however, were clearly aware of this standard.
I saw two older women in long fur coats look me up and down as they exited the building.
Their jewels shone under the lights, and their handbags looked like they had never been used before.
I pulled my ripped and dirty satchel closer to my chest, looking down as I followed Mr. Lewis to the elevator with one thought that resounded within me: I didn’t belong.
The elevator opened into a private apartment. There was a grand foyer with its marble floors and breathtaking artwork displayed on the walls. I recognized a Jenny Saville portrait and shuddered to think if it were real and how much it must have cost.
“I’m going to put this in your room and find Miss Tiffany. I’m sure she is here somewhere, preparing for you,” he smiled kindly.
“Where’s my uncle?” I asked, fearful of meeting more strangers before I could finally lay eyes on the one and only person I was related to.
His face fell slightly. “Unfortunately, Mr. Pollard is still in court and sends his deepest regrets at not being here when you arrived home.” He turned on his heel and left.
Home. Again, with that word.
I walked aimlessly through the apartment, meandering from room to room, amazed when I found a library. A real room dedicated to books. I felt my spirits lift. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
My heart soared as I took in all the different titles and the lovely smell that only old books can possess. At least that was something no one could take from me. I could read anywhere.
I heard Tiffany before I saw her; her expensive heels clicking against the hardwood floor with every step. She found me looking out of one of the library windows, taking in the amazing view of the park that was just across the street.
“Mari,” she breathed, almost out of relief. Maybe she was expecting a hillbilly in overalls, without any shoes. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”
She glided across the room and pulled me into a gentle hug.
She felt so small as her arms wrapped around me like I imagined a bird’s wings would.
She must have been in her mid-thirties with beautiful red hair styled like a movie star.
Her elegance reminded me of one of the ladies from downstairs. I cringed under her gaze, embarrassed.
“Well, Dan was right about you. You are just gorgeous,” she beamed, hooking her arm in mine while leading me out of the library.
Her use of the word gorgeous surprised me. In all my life, I had never been described as gorgeous. Pretty maybe, plain definitely, but never gorgeous.
“Oh,” I stuttered. “Thank you.”
She prattled on about each room as we came to it: the living room, dining room, kitchen, and then about dinner tonight and how she hoped I was hungry since our cook, Iris, had been working all day to prepare something special.
I did a double take at the fact that Tiffany had her own cook.
But as I felt her soft hands lead me from room to room, I realized that she probably never had to do much for herself in all her life.
It only made sense that she would have a cook.
Iris was busy in the kitchen but immediately stopped her dinner preparations as soon as we walked through the door.
She was a sturdy yet petite woman in her late fifties, with silver-streaked dark hair pinned neatly in a bun.
Her keen gray eyes lovingly took me in, her grin spreading across her aged face.
“What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, Miss Mari,” Iris cooed. “Miss Tiffany has been just beside herself preparing for your arrival.”
I blushed, glancing at Tiffany, who mirrored Iris’s welcoming smile. “Iris has been with my family for years. I don’t know how I’d get anything done without her.”
“Oh, posh!” Iris countered lightly, waving her hand as she moved back to the counter to continue chopping vegetables. “You don’t need me, but I’m happy to help.”
Tiffany finally showed me to my room, a grand bedroom with light blue walls and a queen-sized four-post bed with a black and white toile comforter that looked like it must feel like a cloud.
My window overlooked Central Park, where I could see the pond that was not yet iced over.
It was a beautiful room overlooking a beautiful city.
Any other girl would feel so lucky. But I still felt out of place.
Like I was borrowing someone else’s room, someone else’s life, and it didn’t quite fit.
I turned my attention from the room back to Tiffany, who had been standing awkwardly at the door since she ran out of things to say. “When is my uncle going to be back?”
She smiled again, her white teeth contrasting with her deep red hair. “He should be here soon. His assistant called and said he just got out of court.”
I nodded, unaware of what I was expecting when I would finally see my uncle again. Maybe the idea of this huge and luxurious place being my home would finally click. Maybe I was hoping he was the missing puzzle piece that would make this place, this city, suddenly become my home.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your things and let you settle in. Dinner will be at seven.” She hesitated for a moment before closing the door, as if she were unsure whether she had said all the right things, like an actress who may have missed her mark.
The door closed, and I was alone in my new room with my dirty old suitcase sitting at the foot of the bed.
I made my way to the bed and sat down, feeling the softness of the comforter beneath my fingers.
But instead of feeling comfort and security, safe inside a guarded apartment building that felt more like a fortress, I felt more alone than ever before.
Sobs that I had been containing since I boarded my plane in Atlanta burst from me, and I cried and cried, burying my face into a pillow that seemed just a little too soft, smelling faintly of lavender.
The light knocking on my door woke me from my deep sleep. Apparently, my breakdown had quickly led into a deep slumber, leaving my body feeling heavy and head hazy. I sat up quickly, wiping the dried tears from my face and smoothing my hair down.
“Come in,” I replied quietly.
Uncle Dan opened the door, taking a hesitant step inside. “Hi Mari.”
I sat up straighter, pulling nervously at my sweater. “Um, hi Uncle Dan.”
I didn’t know what to think when my uncle first walked through my door.
He was shorter than I had imagined, and his dark brown hair was already beginning to recede.
His black suit looked expensive, but he couldn’t seem to stand still.
His right hand remained in his suit pocket, while the other fiddled with his tie, as if he were smoothing out a wrinkle that didn’t exist to anyone but him.
“How was your flight?” He asked as he took another step inside my room. “Not too bad, I hope.”
Uncle Dan looked from me to my suitcase as he shoved both hands deep into his jacket’s pockets.
“It was fine.” I agreed.
He nodded, taking a few steps back toward the door. “Well, Tiffany wanted me to let you know dinner is ready.”