New York, New York
As of last month, AJ was thirty, which called for some baseline recognition of the march of time and what it did to a person’s metabolism. And so AJ had taken her first brave steps away from Reese’s Puffs into the adult world of Special K Red Berries.
That was what she was doing when she saw the Apple News Top Stories alert—eating Special K Red Berries.
It was a Tuesday morning, the week after SNL had wrapped for the summer, and AJ’s one-bedroom was bright with spotless sunshine. In the months since her split from Brian, she had gotten into cleaning.
She had never really cared before—she’d always treated her apartment as a crash pad, a way station between her childhood home and the one she’d share with her own family. But ever since ending her engagement, she’d started to see her space differently.
Maybe she already had a home. Maybe she should take care of it.
AJ was also taking better care of herself. The therapist she’d been working with since the split classified her drinking as “more of a chemical crutch than full-blown alcoholism,” but AJ wasn’t taking any chances. Hibernia had been her last drink, and she was sticking to it.
Now when she felt stress, even work stress, she ran. Ran and swiffered.
AJ felt oddly frantic as she clicked on an Associated Press story about Eudora’s multiyear struggle with congestive heart failure. She had died last night at home surrounded by family.
That meant Noah. AJ’s mind returned to their encounter at Simmons a little over a year before, when he’d been taking Eudora for her blood work. She would have already been sick. AJ couldn’t picture Drew House without Eudora sailing through its rooms.
She wondered if Noah was there now, alone or with Allison. The latest gossip was that Allison had walked out after he’d failed to propose during award season. Not that it mattered.
AJ and Noah still had not exchanged a word since Blue Con. AJ had considered congratulating him after the Oscars, but the idea of smooshing into his inbox between every other person he’d ever given his email address to felt too cloying.
Should she reach out to him now?
Only if you’re okay not getting a response.
Instead, AJ deposited her bowl in the dishwasher, laced her sneakers, and headed to Central Park. Spring was an almost nonexistent season in New York, but today was dappled and glorious. AJ walked to the corner of Fifty-fourth and Sixth, then jogged toward the park’s south entrance.
Her favorite loop girdled the Mall and Bethesda Terrace, an ideal route for not thinking. AJ switched to airplane mode, cued up her Spotify, and let the rhythm of her steps do the rest.
When she returned home an hour later, she discovered that Libby had texted her a Berkshire Eagle article about Eudora’s memorial service: Wanna go?
AJ stiffened. The last time they’d spoken, Libby had utterly reamed her out for ending her engagement. “You’re too old to start over” had been her exact words. AJ sighed. This was Libby’s version of an apology.
As her fingers paused over the phone screen, she stared across her clean, sunlit kitchen, and felt the silence of the room press against her, pregnant as the breath before curtain up.
Grovelawn Manor was Gladstone’s historic stone mansion-for-rent. AJ hadn’t visited since her senior prom, which she’d spent avoiding Nick Davies and wishing Noah would miraculously appear. To return thirteen years later with the certainty of seeing Noah felt uncanny.
As AJ and Libby merged into a flock of mourners, AJ reassured herself that while she would see Noah, it was extremely unlikely that he would see her. Not in this crowd.
Eudora’s local popularity had skyrocketed in death; the brick path from the parking lot to Grovelawn Manor was teeming. There had to be at least five hundred people here.
AJ almost hadn’t come. She had hemmed and hawed for most of Wednesday, citing a range of hypothetically pressing conflicts, from being on a writing deadline to not wanting to seem like a stalker.
Then that night, she had started flipping channels only to find herself watching a rerun of Astronauticals, the one where the crew landed on a planet of love children who made nightly sacrifices to a vicious space monster in order to stay young and beautiful forever.
AJ still knew every line, and as she watched Glimmette stand up to the space monster in her rocking mod outfit, she began to bawl uncontrollably.
She had driven up to Gladstone the next day. She didn’t own funeral attire, so Libby had brought her a simple black wrap dress to try on. It fell below Libby’s knees but floated just above AJ’s.
“Age,” said Libby, meeting her eyes in the mirror. To AJ’s surprise, her sister seemed nervous.
“What’s up?” said AJ, turning to face her.
Libby smirked. “You brought a thong, right?” she said, all traces of vulnerability gone. “Those briefs are giving you sausage thighs.”
After Libby left, AJ watched half an episode of Jeopardy! with Emily, then holed up in their childhood bedroom, attempting to work.
Rather than hit the convention circuit that summer, she had taken a gig adapting a bestselling novel into a screenplay.
AJ was starting to think about what would come after SNL, and Molly Magnusson had assured her that this was an excellent step toward selling a screenplay of her own.
AJ spent two hours staring blankly at her document in Final Draft, then passed out.
Now, as AJ and Libby entered Grovelawn Manor, AJ nervously smoothed her hands over the wrap dress. The great hall was packed, but they found seats in the second-to-last row.
Up front, a stately portrait of Eudora had been mounted behind a podium—and there beside it stood Noah, unmistakable in a dark suit, his broad back to the room.
AJ squirmed. Why was he so fucking tall? She scanned the front row and tasted bile as she recognized Allison’s tousled bob beside Risa and Ned.
God fucking damn it. The internet knew jack all.
With an officious creak, the doors closed and the proceedings began. First, the head of the town’s council on culture enumerated Eudora’s many contributions to the local art scene. He was followed by the mayor, who thanked the family by presenting Noah a key to the city.
Next, the chair of the Gladstone Theater Company gave an emotional speech, waxing poetic about Eudora’s “thespian star” and referring to her as a beacon four times. She had worked herself into such a state that she left without introducing the next speaker.
Noah stood then. He took the podium in three strides and calmly raised the mic. God, his face—so handsome, so…sad. The crowd solemnized as his dark, expressive eyes swept the room.
AJ felt a tremor of sorrow; Eudora’s eyes had been so similar.
“My aunt would never admit it, but this was her favorite speech,” said Noah with a small smile. One of his enormous hands came to rest over his diaphragm, and he began to recite the lines.
“What light is light if Sylvia be not seen? What joy is joy if Sylvia be not by?”
AJ could still picture Eudora leaping onto her ottoman to show them how it should be done.
She closed her eyes, listening to the deep melody of Noah’s voice, and felt such fierce pride in him, it overwhelmed her. In Noah, AJ could find all Eudora held dear. She bowed her head.
“She is my essence, and I leave to be if I be not by her fair influence fostered, illumined, cherished, kept alive.”
When Noah finished, the room was silent. Then spontaneous applause broke out. As AJ opened her eyes, tears rushed down her cheeks. She gave a start.
Noah was looking directly at her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
And now they were all rising to give him an ovation, and the mayor was taking back the mic and dismissing the assembly. As AJ stood to go, Noah dropped out of view. Probably to embrace Allison, which AJ definitely did not need to see.
As the ballroom doors reopened, AJ followed Libby into the slow-moving throng. She was in agony. This crowd could not be more glacial if they tried.
Fuck.
Fine. He’d seen her. So be it. She would not be caught hanging around, as if she were seeking some sort of audience with him.
“I thought Daniel Drew would be there.” Libby pouted as they finally descended the front steps of Grovelawn Manor and began the trek back to her car.
Noah’s dad had given a very teary press conference that morning from the comfort of his home in L.A. AJ was about to respond when she heard hurried footsteps on the path behind them.
“AJ.”
She spun around in time to see Noah sidestep an elderly couple in order to reach her. Her heart took off as she and Libby exited the walkway.
He was there in a few strides, and it happened to AJ all over again, the span of his shoulders, the breadth of his thighs, the bow of his lips, the way his eyes lit as he looked at her.
“Hi,” he said, breathless. Then, “Hi, Libby.”
“Hi,” chirped Libby.
AJ swallowed. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“You too,” he said sincerely. “It’s good of you to be here.” He put a hand on her shoulder. AJ’s chest tightened.
Noah cleared his throat. “We’re having some people back to the house, and I wanted to ask if you would come.” He looked at AJ intently. “Eudora made me the executor of her will, and she left you a few bequests. Maybe once all of this is over, we can go over them? Since you’re here.”
“Sure,” said AJ, who was pretty sure she’d just entered a fugue state. “Yeah, whatever’s easy.”
“Great,” said Noah. He removed his hand. “I’ll see you there, then.”
“See you there,” said AJ.
With a nod, Noah walked back toward Grovelawn Manor.
Fuck.
AJ was in a fog as she followed Libby to her Lexus. Somehow, she was now going to Drew House, where she would have to meet Allison—have to act normal and nice.
In the driver’s seat, Libby fidgeted with her keys. She didn’t start the car.
“Do you have any idea how you look at him?”
AJ clenched her jaw, waiting for the punch line ending in Jayde. When it didn’t come, she glanced over to find Libby’s eyes swimming.