Chapter 4
FOUR
Aurora
Obviously I’m familiar with the way New York looks. But I was not prepared for how different it would feel to any city I’ve ever visited. Everything’s bigger. Louder. More intense.
I landed the day before yesterday, exactly one month since my phone call with Avril, and today is my first shift.
I was supposed to start tomorrow, but I asked to come in today.
Sundays see a lot of guest turnover and I want to see the hotel at its busiest. That’s when I can get a real feel for the place.
As I make my way on foot along Fifth Avenue to Hotel on Ninth Street, I glance down at the pavement, which isn’t made from the usual slab or tarmac.
It seems to be concrete. My mind starts to wander—how can two countries have such different pavements?
Is it the weather? Is concrete easier to maintain? Why is everything so different?
Luckily for me, it’s only a five-minute walk between my apartment that Avril arranged for me and the hotel. At least I haven’t had to navigate public transport. It might have tipped me over the edge and sent me packing back to Woolton.
When I went back to my apartment on Saturday night, after a day of sightseeing, I burst into tears. I’d made such a rash decision—left a job I’d been in nearly twenty years and my friends and family to come to a place I didn’t know. What had I been thinking?
Eventually, I reminded myself that I couldn’t keep doing what I’d been doing because I didn’t want to keep getting what I’d been getting.
I need to stop just letting life happen to me and make decisions.
I’m only in New York for three months. Even if I go back home afterwards and it takes me a while to find a job, at least I’ll be able to look back at my life and talk about that one summer I worked in New York City.
I ignore the dull ache in my stomach at the thought that I won’t be telling those stories to my grandchildren, but my gaze hits the ground, watching the feet overtaking me and coming toward me.
Out of nowhere, something hits me. Or maybe I hit it. It’s not a wall, it’s another body, crashing into mine. I’m shoved into the wall next to me and I almost lose my balance, but I reach out and steady myself using the building I’ve been thrown against. My chest feels warm and wet.
I scream and step back, sliding against the wall, like that’s going to help.
I don’t fall over, but I glance down and see coffee all over my white shirt.
I’m wearing someone’s morning pick-me-up.
Suddenly, I’m aware of a person standing over me. The same person who rammed into me.
I look up, waiting for the barrage of apologies I’m about to receive.
Instead, a very tall man in a dark suit blocks out the sun. “You need to look where you’re going,” he growls.
I don’t know if it’s his piercing blue eyes, his British accent, or the fact he’s so rude that shocks me most.
I scowl, but I don’t reply. I’m too taken aback that anyone could be so obnoxious…
and have such blue, blue eyes. He’s like a cat.
Or a character in the romantasy novel I’m currently reading.
His hair is glossy black and his jaw razor sharp, and even though he looks like he wants to kill me, I can’t help but wondering how any man got so good-looking.
My distraction at the handsome man in front of me is quickly replaced with panic.
My shirt is covered in coffee.
“What?” I ask, fumbling for my phone to check the time. Can I go home and try and rinse out this coffee and still make it on time?
It’s six minutes to nine. There’s no way I can get there and back. I’ve been splatted against the hotel wall. I’m ten steps away from the staff entrance. And anyway, I don’t even have a spare shirt when I get home. I’m due to pick up the rest of my uniform at the hotel today.
Shit, shit, shit.
How could this have happened?
When I look back up, the stranger is gone.
They say you never get a second chance to make a first impression.
I hope that doesn’t turn out to be true in my case.
I don’t want Avril and Poppy to think they made a mistake in hiring me and decide to terminate my employment.
I can’t go back to Chilternshire with my tail between my legs after three days.
I pull some tissues out of my bag and try to mop up the worst of the coffee spill. I’m lucky not to have been burned. My shirt is soaked right through.
Is this a sign? Are the gods trying to keep me away from the hotel? Is the universe telling me I should never have set foot in New York?
I look up to the sky and try to take a steadying breath. On my third attempt, I actually feel a little calmer.
The universe is going to have to fuck right off because I’m here for three months—unless I get fired for looking like I crawled through a ditch to get to work.
At least my black jacket escaped relatively unscathed. Just a few drops caught the lapel, and I easily dab it dry.
I blow out a sigh and button up my jacket. When it’s closed, the stain doesn’t show. I can just feel the dampness against my skin. But I’ll have to put up with it until I can arrange to change.
This is fine, I tell myself. It could have been worse. Maybe this coffee spill was sent from the heavens to distract me from my nerves. Yes, that’s the explanation I’m going to go with.
I pull my shoulders back and head to the staff entrance. Inside, there’s a woman dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt, who’s clearly been waiting for me.
“I’m Rhonda. I take it you’re Aurora?”
I smile and hold out my hand. “Yes, very nice to meet you.”
She lets out a half chuckle and takes my hand. “You’re British. Avril said you were. I’m going to take you to see her and Poppy.”
Without waiting for a response from me, she turns and walks briskly down a long dark corridor.
“Laundry’s down there.” She points as we pass an opening to another corridor. “And so is the staff room.”
I’m terrible at directions and finding my way about.
Honestly, it took me years to understand how The Rookery was laid out.
I’ve brought a notebook with me, and when my shift is over, I’m planning to spend ten minutes drawing myself a map of the inside of the hotel.
I figure if I do ten minutes every day, by the end of the week, I should have something I can use.
It all depends how complicated the layout is.
“Are we in the basement?” I ask, as I have to run a couple of paces to keep up with Rhonda.
“Yup,” she says.
The linoleum on the floor turns from blue to green and suddenly we’re by some lifts.
“These are the staff elevators,” Rhonda says. “Never use the guest elevators if you’re not with a guest.”
I nod. We have the same rule at The Rookery.
“And the porters take priority with the luggage.”
“Okay.” Even though these are rules I’m used to, I still pull my phone out and make a note. I don’t want to forget anything.
My parents thought I was crazy for handing in my notice at The Rookery. And Darcy thinks I’m crazy for going across the ocean. I don’t want to prove them right. Even though I’m scared, and inside I’m wondering what I was doing saying yes to this job, I really don’t want to fuck things up.
When I leave, I want it to be on my own terms, not because I’ve been fired.
The lift arrives and Rhonda and I travel up one floor in silence. My head is too full to small-talk with a woman who clearly doesn’t want to small-talk.
When we come out of the lifts, the floor has changed from linoleum to carpet—a sure sign we’re on a guest floor.
After passing a couple of doors, Rhonda comes to a stop and knocks on one. “Good luck,” she says. “I’ll see you around.”
Avril opens the door, a huge smile on her face.
“Aurora, it’s so good to have you here.” She pulls me in for a very unexpected hug.
Then she glances at Rhonda. “Thank you so much for meeting her and bringing her up.” She turns to me.
“Rhonda knows everything about everything. Any questions, she’s your gal.
Any of us are, really, but when we want to know something, we all go to Rhonda. ” Avril laughs.
Rhonda offers a small smile and then heads off.
Avril ushers me inside. “You’ll remember Poppy from the wedding, even if she hasn’t hounded you quite as much as I have. As you know, she mainly looks after the financial and administrative sides of things, whereas I deal more with front of house, but we manage things together really.”
I smile at Poppy. “Nice to see you again.”
She rounds her desk and pulls me in for another hug.
I’m not not a hugger. But the first time I meet my boss, I definitely don’t expect to be hugging them. But, like I said, New York is different.
“How are you settling into New York?” Poppy asks, as she guides me to a small table under the window with four chairs around it. We all take a seat.
It gives me a few seconds to figure out what I’m going to say. “It’s very different.”
They both laugh. “It can be a shock to the system. Even to Americans.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Avril says. “But eventually, you’ll find your rhythm. I always think that New York is like a record. Until you get the needle in the groove, it’s all scratchy and weird sounding and then, all of a sudden, the needle finds its place and it’s beautiful.”
I smile at her analogy. I like the idea that all of a sudden life can be beautiful.
“So I have to be patient?” I ask.
“Patient and also observant,” Poppy says. “Don’t expect it to be like London. It isn’t. But just watch it and feel it, and then you’ll be part of it.”
They’re making New York sound like it’s magical or something. A magical city.
I can only hope.
I need some magic in my life at the moment.
“Okay, so if you need anything at all outside of work, you have our numbers,” Avril says. “You can call us anytime. And why don’t the three of us go to brunch this weekend? Do you have plans?”