Only in New York

Chapter 1

HANNAH

Welcome to my humble abode!

Thank you soooo much for taking care of my new home – happy to know that the place will be in safe hands without me. Sorry that some rooms are not quite ready yet, but still lots of space to enjoy (no parties though, please – leave that to me!).

Know Sara’s filled you in on everything already, but just another quick reminder that the marble guys are coming on the 15th (before they install it, just make absolutely sure it’s Calacatta and bookmarked as ordered), and a couple of Peacock chairs (sooo retro, just WAIT ’til you see them!!!!) and an Eames lounger are scheduled to arrive at the end of the month, along with some A/W collab drops (but not too many, I promise) that I so appreciate you taking care of.

The refrigerator is packed with the good stuff and you’re welcome to borrow whatever you like from my closet while you’re here so go nuts (though maybe not my shoes and def not my top-shelf purses, ’K?). Or anything that takes your fancy from the PR drops, go right ahead too (our little secret).

Just Snap or message Sara if you need anything or have any questions, though idk the time difference in Europe might make things tricky but hey … hope you settle in OK and enjoy being back in NYC!

Courtney XOXO

PS Ignore the crazy old dinosaur next door – guy was so peeved that the co-op let me buy into the building that he spent the ENTIRE YEAR complaining about construction noise! No doubt Sara’s told you all about the stupid lawsuit already. So much for friendly neighbours, huh?)

Hannah Ryan looked up from the note, still trying to take in her new surroundings and couldn’t help but seriously question her life choices. Here she was, mid-thirties and having to start her life over in another city, and a girl a decade her junior outright owned a newly refurbished Classic Six, one of two penthouse floor apartments in a landmark building on NYC’s Upper East Side.

She knew that ‘classic’ referred to the pre-war era when apartments of this ilk were built, and ‘six’ to the total number of rooms; a living room, formal dining room, separate kitchen, two full bedrooms and what would have once been servants’ quarters located near the kitchen and with its own bathroom facilities.

These homes were also famed for the architectural touches popular during the same period: hardwood floors, spacious rooms, high ceilings, eye-catching mouldings, grand entrance galleries and hallways to separate the spaces.

In short, Hannah was standing in a piece of New York history.

And while she might be leaving her LA life behind to start over on the East Coast, thanks to her client’s magnanimous offer at least she wasn’t homeless.

New York-based social media superstar Courtney Wilde was a priority client of Hannah’s employer Lotus PR, and whom she herself handled as West Coast liaison. The influencer had recently departed for a three-month-long tour promoting her latest book, Empower .

A few weeks ago, not long after Hannah’s world had been upended, prompting her transfer to the company’s New York office, she was meeting with Courtney at the Beverly Hills Hotel when she received an urgent call from her realtor informing her that the Brooklyn shoebox she’d initially set her sights on had fallen through.

‘And there’s nothing else?’ Hannah cried, crestfallen. Couldn’t anything go right for her these days? ‘No, no Manhattan is way out of my budget.’

Courtney had obviously been eavesdropping and when Hannah hung up, she said, ‘I’m gonna be nosy, OK?’

‘Sure.’

‘You need somewhere to stay in NYC?’

‘You might say that,’ Hannah admitted, biting her lip, unwilling to get into the specifics of her personal life. ‘It’s a little awkward because my ex … well, let’s just say I needed to get out of Dodge, so I asked for a transfer. And a change is as good as a holiday, yes?’ she finished brightly, hoping Courtney wouldn’t push for specifics. ‘But I’m not having much luck with finding somewhere.’

Thanks to her recent out-of-the-blue relationship implosion, Hannah had jumped at the chance of a fresh start at the company’s New York arm. But not so much at the prospect of wading into the city’s real estate market.

Courtney wrinkled her nose sympathetically, which managed to make her look even more adorable. ‘That sucks. Tell you what – why don’t you crash at my new place while I’m in Europe? I’ll be gone for a few months and it’s pretty much ready to go, save for some last-minute construction tweaks, furniture deliveries and stuff. And I hate the idea that no one’s lived there for so long. Coming back to a space that’s been vacant for a while … the vibes are usually so wonky, you know?’

Hannah paused, unsure how to answer. On the one hand, a temporary place to stay while she got settled would be a lifesaver, but finances were an issue and there was no way she could afford the rent in that part of town.

‘Naturally,’ Courtney continued, ‘I’ll be paying you to house-sit – or apartment-sit, I guess,’ she grinned.

Which was how Hannah currently found herself (temporarily) living the dream in one of two top-floor apartments in a salubrious building on the Upper East Side. She let out a low whistle, impressed afresh at her surroundings. To be fair, the apartment’s original state must surely have been magnificent in itself – but soon after Courtney bought into the 72nd Street property, her manager had pronounced it ‘criminally unsuitable for his client’s aesthetic’.

From what little Hannah knew of the period, it seemed the interior designer had stayed true to the original pre-war architecture while giving it a glamorous mid-century modern flair. The original beams and columns were kept along with the solid floors, creating a nice sense of continuity between the old and the new. The walls were also painted white to provide a neutral backdrop for the newly installed fixtures.

Custom-built storage units meant there was ample space for the influencer’s quirky travel artefacts, art sculptures and photographs, but they also provided a warm, inviting touch. The wood grain blended seamlessly with the classic mouldings, columns and zig-zag walnut parquet flooring, creating a sense of subtle harmony between contemporary and traditional.

The bedroom Hannah would be using was also updated with modern features while still honouring the original period’s charm. A tufted headboard complete with LED lighting was installed to give the bed that luxurious boutique hotel feel, while the walls were painted in a muted shade of blue to create a tranquil atmosphere. A plush neutral carpet provided a soft, cosy touch.

This room alone was about the same size as her very first box-room apartment in Greenwich fifteen years ago when she’d first emigrated from then-recessionary Ireland as an unemployed young woman hoping to find a career path in the US. And now, after almost a decade in LA, she was once again starting over in New York. Not quite back at square one (at least she’d managed to hold onto her career, if not her reputation), though right now it sort of felt like it.

Walking back through a living room that felt large enough to host an NFL football game within its confines, Hannah still couldn’t help but wonder if she was in a dream. Though after the scenario she’d just left, anything would seem like a dream.

Before she could go any further down that disaster-strewn path, and determined to keep her spirits up, she continued her tour of the space, moving through to the small kitchen and marvelling at the state-of-the-art chef’s kitchen, dazzling aluminium pots and pans hanging over the prep area island currently awaiting its aforementioned Calacatta marble countertop finish.

It was every chef’s idea of heaven. But Hannah was a little uncertain about whether or not she was allowed to use it and made a mental note to go back over the house rules Courtney’s assistant Sara had mailed across when making initial arrangements.

Not that it mattered. She was a tragically terrible cook and there was no shortage of great places to eat in this town. Which would also encourage her to get out there and help meet new people – as it was, she knew she’d spent far too long licking her wounds and eating her feelings in the form of Ghirardelli’s hot fudge sundaes. It was time to start living life again.

She smiled dolefully. Still … baby steps. Passing by a mammoth Sub-Zero stainless steel refrigerator, Hannah caught sight of herself in the reflective surface and regarded what she saw with a more critical eye. While she would never in a million years be considered influencer material like Courtney, she knew she looked decent enough not to send kids (or New Yorkers) running away in terror when they saw her.

Petite in stature, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and wide blue eyes, it was all too easy to underestimate her, and very many people did. Hannah smiled. She liked that, the way appearances could be deceptive; and it was something she utilised every day in her PR manager role.

She left the kitchen and ambled back into the living room. The main living space was also brought into the modern era with a few carefully selected pieces of furniture. Sleek, low-profile sofas in shades of grey and blue provided ample cosy seating, with a round ottoman and a couple of mid-century modern pieces for enjoying those incredible Central Park views, and the Dakota building directly across.

The yet-to-be-delivered Eames lounger Courtney had mentioned in her welcome note would surely be the piece-de-resistance in here. To finish off the space, an elaborate art-deco chandelier was installed in the centre, adding a bit of twenties sparkle and glamour.

Belying that era was a beyond-state-of-the-art media system capable of replicating an IMAX experience that even put some LA movie mogul pads to shame. Along with smart lighting and climate control systems, with programmable thermostats and automated shades. Hannah had no idea how much the media installation alone would cost, but suspected it must surely be a few years of her salary, plus maybe tossing in selling an organ or two on the black market. Let alone the price of the apartment itself.

What must it be like to be one of the richest social media stars of your generation? That was something Hannah would never know – and that was fine with her really. In her line of work, she routinely dealt with the top of the elite mountain – the one per cent’s one per cent.

While many of the younger so-called tastemakers she’d worked with back on the West Coast – mostly bored rich kids – were narcissistic, demanding and completely out of touch with the rest of the world (‘away with the fairies’, as the Irish expression went), Courtney Wilde was a surprising exception to the rule.

The twenty-three-year-old millionaire had become a voice and role model for millions of young women around the world, with a successful online platform that combined her passions for fashion and finance. While the majority of retail and lifestyle influencers typically sought out IV lines direct to followers’ pockets to enrich themselves, Courtney Wilde conversely used hers to empower her audience with knowledge and wisdom about money and financial independence. Her mission to help younger women become financially literate and learn how to pay for their purchases through careful savings and clever investments instead of becoming slaves to credit was a powerful one that was both fashion-forward and financial-savvy.

Dior or Front Door? (blow money on designer stuff or use it to buy your own home) was the catchphrase that had captured the imagination and gone viral, thrusting Courtney’s atypical fusion of fashion and finance into the spotlight. And one which the young lady had utilised herself, with spectacular results, since this gorgeous penthouse was merely one element of a significant property portfolio.

Hannah wished someone like Courtney had been around when she was that age, particularly in her younger years growing up as a bookish, painfully-shy teenager in the rural Limerick village from which she hailed. A small farming community that offered few opportunities for glamour or social variety, about the only adolescent role models she had back then were gleaned from books and TV, and much of her life advice via Jean Luc Picard in Star Trek TNG .

Make it so . . .

She chuckled. Truly a galaxy apart from the largely confident go-getting youth of today.

Even possessing a smidgen of that kind of moxie could’ve meant that Hannah might also have been much better placed to take control of her situation after everything imploded in LA. Her ex, Rob, remained in the Brentwood walk-up he owned, rendering her homeless practically overnight.

So she was doubly grateful for the opportunity to get a true taste of the good life, temporarily at least. There was only one minor wrinkle in the entire situation – the neighbours’ issue mentioned in the welcome note.

Hannah learned from Courtney’s assistant Sara that a group of residents in the building had lodged a lawsuit against the co-op board for allowing the influencer to buy into it.

When word initially got out that she had made an application, apparently the cantankerous old guy living in the adjoining penthouse had insisted that they couldn’t allow some ‘attention-seeking airhead’ to upset the social dynamics in the building. But evidently the group’s wish to have Courtney’s bid denied was refused. As were their subsequent submissions about construction noise, odours from the fresh paint or insistence that the planned renovations would not only go against the architectural integrity of the landmark building but structural too, and they were all going to die when it caved in around them.

Hannah knew that such co-op disputes could be the stuff of legend in NYC, with residents routinely fighting board members and each other for myriad reasons (ironically the very opposite of co-operative), and she could well imagine why the arrival of a millionairess bright young thing into the prestigious building might put much older and well-heeled noses out of joint.

Sara had quickly brushed away Hannah’s initial concerns by assuring her that the matter was now in the hands of the legal eagles, and there was nothing to fear from any personal encounters. But maybe once the neighbours met Courtney in person, she’d disarm and charm them too? Well, they certainly had nothing to fear from introverted Hannah anyway. No wild parties or noise of any kind – she wasn’t even the singing-in-the-shower type.

Nope, while she was here, she just planned to lay low, pick up the pieces of her life, and most importantly, she mused, gazing out at that picture-perfect Central Park view, make the most of the incredible gift she’d been given in one of the greatest cities on earth.

As she stood by the window, watching the light slowly fade over the park and cityscape beyond, Hannah felt optimistic for the first time in months.

She’d been in Los Angeles for so long that she’d almost forgotten the exhilaration Manhattan could evoke, and was appreciative of the opportunity to experience it anew from such an incredible vantage point. Opening the sash window a little, even fifteen floors up the air was suddenly filled with familiar sounds of the city – honking horns, laughter against the murmur of traffic and a million conversations – and, at that moment, Hannah felt a profound reconnection with the place she’d once called home. This very same vibrant energy had once helped her shake off those youthful small-town inhibitions and encouraged her out of her shell to become the mature, self-assured person she was now. She felt a lump in her throat. Or used to be.

With luck, New York would work that same magic for her again.

She had been away from the city for so long and yet it still felt like no time had passed. Her instincts were correct to leave LA. She had come to the right place to lick her wounds, heal her heart, and she was more than ready to start a new life in the city that never sleeps.

Heading back out to the foyer to collect her bags from where she’d dropped them in awe on arrival, Hannah noticed that something had since been slipped under the door. A piece of paper and a handwritten note:

P-2,

I’m still getting your stupid ‘fan mail’ shoved in my box downstairs. I know this might come as a surprise to someone who lives in their own perfect Barbie bubble, but there are two penthouses up here. I’ve been marking it as Return to Sender, but soon I’m just gonna start shredding. So tell your herd of bazillion idiot sheep to stop sneaking their crap into the lobby. Or even better, tell ’em to go to hell.

P-1

Hannah’s eyes widened. So much for nothing to fear from the neighbours. Seemed they were still engaged in active battle.