a book on how to look fabulous on a budget.
Despite her state of anxiety, Paige smiled. Eva always looked fabulous.
When she’d first arrived in New York, she’d been the only one living with Matt. Eva had been sharing an apartment with her grandmother until she’d moved into sheltered living and the apartment had been sold to fund her care. Eva had been homeless and Paige had asked Matt if she could have a roommate. He hadn’t hesitated. Frankie had joined them a month later.
They were three small-town girls, living in the big city, and soon they were as close as they’d been growing up.
Living with her friends had proved surprisingly easy given their differences, one of the biggest of which was the hours they kept.
Eva was a sloth in the mornings.
“Get up.” Paige gave her friend a nudge. “I want you to design a personalized menu for Baxter and Baxter. I’m calling them later.”
“The ad agency? Star Events pitched for that account.”
“And lost because they weren’t original enough. This is a young, dynamic agency. We need to be equally dynamic. And original.”
“I don’t feel dynamic.” Eva pulled the pillow over her head. “And I can’t be original at six-thirty in the morning. Go away.”
“You have until seven-thirty to shower and be ready in the kitchen with menus.” Paige pulled her hair into a ponytail and glanced at her reflection in the mirror on Eva’s wall.
That brief glance told her that all the panic she felt was safely concealed inside.
Her hair was smooth and straight. Even New York humidity couldn’t put a kink in it.
Eva gave a grunt. “You’re a tyrant. It wouldn’t kill you to have a day off exercise. You’re already in great shape.”
“I won’t be in great shape for long if I don’t run. It’s my stress reliever.” And physical fitness was important to her. Her body had let her down once through no fault of her own. She did what she could to make sure it didn’t let her down again. “Could you fix breakfast? We can eat while we work.”
“I’m reporting you to human resources.” Eva yawned, emerging from under the pillow. “We do have a human resources department, right?”
“I’m it, and your complaint is duly noted. Anything you want me to pick up? I could call in at Petit Pain. Walnut bread? Sourdough loaf? Bagel?” Petit Pain was one of their favorite local bakeries, run by a man who had started baking when his wife had died. He’d discovered a new passion and his business had grown, supported by the local community.
Eva sat up and rubbed her eyes. “We can’t afford it. I’ll make breakfast from scratch. Frankie needs to eat something that isn’t full of additives. She barely ate at all yesterday. It was that text from her mother that started it.”
“Yeah, well, knowing your parents have sex is weird for anyone, but when your mother is sleeping with men the same age as you and bragging about it, it’s so far away from weird there is no word for it. It’s no wonder poor Frankie is damaged.” Paige watched as Eva scooped her mass of sunny hair away from her face. “How come you look so good when you’ve just emerged from under the pillows?”
“My hair looks like a bird’s nest.”
“But it’s a cute bird’s nest. So you don’t want anything?”
“Berries?”
“Berries aren’t comfort food.”
“They are to me. And anyway, we don’t need comfort, we need health. If we’re going to be working hard and subjecting ourselves to bucket loads of stress, we need to strengthen ourselves nutritionally.”
“Berries.” Paige made a mental note. “And more coffee.”
“Coffee is bad for you.”
“Coffee is my life force. Do not go back to sleep.” She ripped the cover off her friend. “Get up. We have things to do, places to be, people to please and fortunes to make. If we’re going to make a success of this, which we are, we’re going to need to work hard. No part-timers.”
Eva grunted. “You sound uncannily like Cynthia.” But she slid her legs out of bed. “What were you and Jake talking about on the terrace last night? You two looked cozy.”
“He was apologizing for being an idiot.” Familiar with Eva’s ability to find romance in any situation, Paige jogged quickly to the door. “Don’t you dare go back to sleep. I’ll see you in an hour.” Relieved to have escaped the inquisition, she ran down the stairs and knocked on the door of the ground-floor apartment.
At least Frankie wouldn’t ask the same question. Frankie didn’t see romance even if a couple were tongue wrestling in front of her.
Her friend answered the door in a pair of pajamas. She was holding a small basil plant in her hand and it was obvious from the dark smudges under her eyes that she hadn’t slept much, either.
Paige wondered if there had been more texts or phone calls from her mother.
“I’m going for a run. Do you want to join me?”
“Dressed like this? I don’t think so.”
“We live in Brooklyn. It’s acceptable to be different.”
“I’m the responsible one in the family, remember? And anyway, I want to finish my model.”
Paige glanced over her shoulder and saw the half-built LEGO model on the table. “Is that the Empire State Building?”
“Yeah. Matt gave it to me for Christmas. I was waiting for a stressful moment to build it.”
“I guess yesterday qualified.” Paige looked at the detail, marveling at Frankie’s dexterity. “Was it the job or your mom that made you open it?”
“Both.” Frankie rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “Look—you don’t have to worry. I’m dealing with some stuff and—it doesn’t matter. Building the model works for me. I’ll meet you when you’re back. I need to tend to my Ocimum basilicum.”
“Your—? Oh, you mean your basil plant. You could just call it a basil plant. On the other hand that would be a waste of your fancy training.” She smoothed down her ponytail. “Right, well I’ll leave you and your Ocimum basilicum in peace and I’ll see you for a breakfast meeting in the Urban Genie offices at seven-thirty.”
Frankie blinked. “We have offices?”
“Your kitchen is our office until we can afford something more official. Ours is a little bigger but your doors open onto the garden and it’s lovely in the summer. And your kitchen table isn’t covered in Eva’s cookery experiments. Don’t prepare anything. Eva is in charge of catering.”
“As long as she doesn’t expect me to drink a kale and spinach smoothie. It’s not often I agree with Jake, but on that we are in total accord.”
Wishing
