New York, New York #2
“What’s it like?” her sister asked almost inaudibly. AJ had never seen Libby so exposed.
“I—” AJ’s comeback died on her tongue. Instead, she thought of the improbability of having just had Noah’s hand on her for thirty seconds. “I don’t know. A fucked-up miracle, maybe.”
Libby’s chin trembled, and AJ was hit with the sudden awareness that everything was about to change.
Then Libby said in a rush, “I need to leave Lucas. I-I want a divorce.”
The sun was setting as Libby’s Lexus pulled into the driveway at Drew House. AJ could tell from the patchwork of remaining cars that most of the guests had already gone.
They had talked in the parking lot for two hours, then transitioned to Libby’s trusty Dunkin’ for another two.
And it had all tumbled out. How something had always felt off, but Libby had stuck with it because “my marriage was the only thing I ever did that impressed Dad.” How she’d come to admit that the rare days Lucas was around were her worst. How she’d realized she wanted more watching Pat and Elle.
How she’d learned she could ask for it watching AJ.
“I’m sorry for how I acted when you left Brian,” Libby said. “I was trying so hard to convince myself to stay, I don’t think I could bear to watch you go.”
Libby had a tough path ahead, but as they waved goodbye, AJ had never seen her sister look so…right. As Libby’s headlights swung into the dusk, AJ had to laugh—only Libby could make someone else’s funeral about herself.
AJ’s smile faded as she slowly turned to face Drew House. She had walked here so often in her mind—it hadn’t changed one iota. As she approached the oak door, she marveled at the familiar cast of evening through the trees.
The party was indeed breaking up. As AJ stepped inside, she held the door for several elderly guests on the way home. She entered the vestibule to a familiar sight: Mrs. Gilroy, fussing over a pile of silver terrines. Several caterers watched nearby, powerless to stop her.
“Real service anticipates,” she was saying. Then she spied AJ. “AJ? My my, if this isn’t a surprise.”
“Hi, Mrs. Gilroy,” said AJ, as the elderly Irishwoman gave her the once-over. The caterers took the opening to pack up their wares.
“I’m retired now, you know.” She sniffed loudly. “I’m living in the house down the hill, the one where Noah grew up. He was so attentive to his aunt. I was still here most days…right up until…” She looked around the room. “I suppose I shall miss this place.”
As she sighed, Noah emerged from the formal dining room to the left, accompanied by several mourners. His eyes caught on AJ as he bid them farewell.
“You came,” he said, offering Mrs. Gilroy his arm.
“I—” AJ swallowed. “Sorry, Libby was, um, Libby.” Articulate. Brilliant. Great.
Just then, Allison Seabring swept into the vestibule. She wore a floral gown that flowed off her as if specifically designed for her willowy shape. There was such crispness to her beauty as she grasped Mrs. Gilroy’s other arm, her eyes twinkling like fresh-cut sapphires.
“You heading home, Mrs. G?” she asked. “I’ll walk out with you—I want to try to get to Big Y before they close.”
Mrs. Gilroy smiled approvingly. Allison was probably nipping out to get something AJ would never buy, like arrowroot starch. She and Noah probably ate like hunter-gatherers. AJ felt the strawberry Coolatta she’d split with Libby turn to lead in her stomach.
Now Allison’s eyes were on AJ. “You look so familiar,” she said, squinting. “Have we met?” AJ shook her manicured hand and introduced herself. “Oh, of course,” said Allison with genuine warmth. “Noah’s told me so much about you. I love ‘1-800-Amethyst.’ ”
As they traded compliments, AJ was forced to conclude that Allison was fucking lovely. The rumor mill had one thing right, though: no ring.
Now Allison was turning to Noah. “Did you take Bud out or should I?”
“I got it,” he said.
AJ averted her gaze to the drawing room, immediately locking eyes with Risa.
“AJ!” she cried, beckoning AJ toward the sofa where she and Ned were ensconced.
“Go ahead,” said Noah. “I’ll be right there.”
As AJ made her way to the space where she, Noah, and Eudora had spent so many afternoons, she could still detect Eudora’s floral perfume clinging to the drapery. In the mirror above the mantel, she glimpsed Allison and Noah helping Mrs. Gilroy to the door.
“AJ—it’s so nice of you to come to this,” said Ned, taking an embroidered antique chair as AJ joined Risa on the sofa. AJ smiled back, reflexively sliding her left hand under her thigh. If anyone would notice her own absent ring, it was Risa.
“How are you two liking the Berkshires?” she asked.
“There’s no service up here!” said Risa in horror. “We got so lost on the way to the memorial, I thought Ned’s Garmin was going to drive us off a cliff.”
As she and Ned recounted their travails up the “scenic post road,” AJ watched Noah in the mirror.
He held the door for Mrs. Gilroy, but Allison lingered with him to farewell the last few guests.
When he bowed his head in exhaustion, she went up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Then the caterers took their leave, and Allison ducked out with them.
Noah closed the door behind her with a weary click, as if the only good thing in his life had just gone. He took a moment, gathering himself, then headed for the drawing room. AJ averted her gaze before he could catch her watching.
“There he is,” said Ned.
Noah gave him a tired smile. “You two should head out,” he said. “I’m sure you’re tired.”
Ned shrugged and glanced at Risa. “Are you sure?” said Risa tentatively.
“Yeah,” said Noah. He gave them a small, mischievous smile. “The post road’s even dicier at night.”
As they rose to go, Noah turned to AJ. “Do you mind if I just take Bud out? It’ll be about five minutes.”
“Not at all,” said AJ, her heart pounding.
She said goodbye to Risa and Ned and watched in the mirror as Noah led them to the front door. As it closed, she sank back into the couch, listening to Noah’s footsteps recede into the kitchen.
Then all was silent, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the front hall.
Slowly AJ turned around and looked across the entryway. The dining room was empty. The vestibule was empty. The whole house was empty. She sat back and stared at the piano, her pulse keeping time with the second hand.
AJ was at Drew House, alone with Noah Drew.
As she listened for his footsteps, she wondered for the first time what Eudora possibly could have left her. Her personal volume of NOW That’s What I Call Music! 4? One of her illustrious cashmere pieces?
She could hear Noah and Bud in the kitchen now; the dog barked happily as Noah fed her. Presently, the door swung open, and the familiar thud of Noah’s steps filled the vestibule.
AJ looked up as he entered the drawing room. Noah was wiped. He’d removed his suit jacket and was now in a plain white oxford shirt. As he reached up to loosen his tie, AJ noticed a legal-size manila folder tucked under his arm.
“Sorry about that,” he said, dropping the tie over the couch back and seating himself beside AJ.
He placed the folder on the coffee table in front of them and began undoing the buttons at his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves.
He was obviously hot from rushing around, his cheeks flushed.
As he ran a hand over his face, his hair fell across his eyebrows in this Noah way that was so carelessly handsome, AJ suddenly couldn’t breathe.
She forced herself to look at the folder. “What’s this?”
Noah’s face was somber. “Handbook for the Recently Deceased.”
AJ gave a start. Then she burst out laughing.
Noah shot her a sidelong glance. “I’ve been holding on to that one for thirteen years.”
AJ wiped her eyes. “That was perfect.”
He grinned, gazing at her. In that moment, AJ would have given anything to touch him.
Which was insane. His gorgeous girlfriend would be back any minute. AJ cleared her throat, folding her hands in her lap and returning studiously to the folder.
Noah placed a finger on the front flap. “I figured since you’re here, it makes sense to go over this in person,” he said. “Less jarring that way than in an email.”
“Jarring?” said AJ.
Noah nodded. “I know you and Eudora had a complicated history, but I don’t think there can be any doubt that you were important to her.” He pushed the folder toward AJ on the table. “Especially when you see this.”
Heart pounding, AJ took the file into her lap. Inside she found a portion of a will. She felt Noah lean closer to read over her shoulder. Ah—his weight, his warmth. AJ kept her eyes forward, trying not to react to his sudden nearness and the dark, salty smell of his body.
“It’s clauses 6a to c,” he said, his voice low in her ear.
AJ commanded herself to focus on the page. This section of the will pertained to Eudora and Ezell’s intellectual estate. Clauses 6a and b bequeathed all of Eudora and Ezell’s personal papers and the rights to their collected works to two people, jointly: AJ Graves and Noah Drew.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
Clause 6c referred to Ezell Farr’s unfinished play, Fire & Water, and came with a proviso—AJ flipped the page and began to read item iii: “The text or any dramatic rendition of Fire & Water may be read or performed only with the joint approval of the beneficiaries outlined in section 6b.”
“Whoa,” said AJ, running her index finger down the paragraph, double-checking it. “So, we could potentially stage Fire & Water? Or someone else could with our permission?”
When Noah didn’t respond, AJ looked up at him. He had gone very still, an odd expression on his face. He was staring at her hand on the page.
“Hey,” said AJ, tentatively.
Noah’s expression didn’t change. “You’re not wearing your ring.”
“Oh,” said AJ, heat rushing to her cheeks. “I don’t have it anymore,” she mumbled, balling her fist to hide the exposed knuckle.
“What?” said Noah, his tone deadly quiet. “Why?”