mean looking for someone new. The thought made him shudder.
It would have been so much easier for him if Mrs. Robinson hadn’t gone off to Idaho for the holidays. Or was it Ohio? He didn’t recall. His work was getting done, but everything took far more of his time than he cared to give. At least that girl—what was her name? Joan? At least she had a firm grip on the English language, and she could spell. Granted, it wasn’t much. But his luck with employees had never been stellar. For now, she’d do.
2
THE DAY THE AD CAME OUT, Jane got up with the sun. Streams of light flowed into the room, buzzing with tiny dancers, the flotsam and jetsam that filled the world and filled her with each breath. She liked knowing she had company all the time, even if it was microscopic.
Her dreams had been delicious, all about Charles and her. Her and Charles. The season had affected him, or was it just the nearness of her? Probably both. He’d been so tender.
Shivering in anticipation, she pushed off her blankets, all three of them, and sat up, her feet immediately searching for her fuzzy slippers. The floor was always painfully cold in the morning, dull wood that seemed to hug the chill like an old friend. But she couldn’t afford to heat the place when she slept. Manhattan might be a magical city, but it was also expensive as hell. She could have mitigated her circumstances by sharing a room with, say, one or ten other people, but that wasn’t for her. She needed her own space, and her little shoe box of an apartment was as private as could be.
Grabbing her robe from the end of the bed, she found her teeth clattering loudly as she headed for the bathroom. This was the worst place in the apartment. The coldest. But she’d worked out a system where her behind never had to actually touch the seat. Creative. That’s what you needed to be in New York. Creative and warm-blooded.
After the loo, which sounded so much nicer to her ears than bathroom, she walked down the short hallway, eager to see her Christmas tree in the morning light. It was so beautiful. Not in the traditional sense, of course. But then, traditional beauty had never appealed to her.
She turned the corner and her gaze fell on the couch, covered with a wonderful old afghan that she’d found at a rummage sale to hide the aged patches and stains. Then the tree, her tree, listing a bit to the right, missing more needles than it should, but decorated with all the love and care she had in her. She’d made bows and sewn little hanging cloth baskets, which she’d filled with candy canes. And she’d made the most adorable fabric frame ornaments, putting a picture of someone she loved in each one.
Of course, Charles’s picture was given the place of honor. Although none of the decorations would claim more than a nickel at the flea market, they meant a lot to her, and that was what really mattered, right?
So what if others couldn’t see what she saw? So what if they thought she had a screw loose? Her vision held wonders, and that’s what made it worthwhile to get up every morning.
It had always been like that. Her poor parents had never understood her. They’d had their nice Long Island life, filled with worries about the right schools and the right clothes and the right friends. Her mother had planned great things for her daughters, and only Jane had disappointed. She’d tried to get through law school, honestly, but it wasn’t her. She’d ended up daydreaming in class, getting into trouble. So what if she hadn’t found her niche yet? There was still time, for heaven’s sake. She was only twenty-six. She had her whole life in front of her.
Only, sometimes she worried that she was spending a little too much time thinking about Charles. Despite the way she looked at the world, she was just Jane, after all. Not Pru, not Felicity, not Darra. Just Jane. Maybe it would be more productive to daydream about men she stood a chance with.
She sighed as she stepped over to her kitchen counter, pressed the button on her coffeemaker, then leaned over the tiny table and turned on her shower. It actually wasn’t bad, having the tub in the kitchen. She could cook breakfast and get clean at the same time. She wondered what Charles was doing now. As if it mattered. But still, what was the harm in wondering? Of course, his bathrooms would be extravagantly large. His kitchen bigger than her whole apartment. Not that she’d been to his place, but she knew him and his taste. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had one of those bathtubs. You know, the kind with the steps and the Jacuzzi whirlpool nozzles?
She wandered over to the radiator and banged it a few times with a tire iron she’d found on Forty-second Street. The gurgle from the basement told her heat was on its meandering way. Then it was back to the shower, which would be warm enough by now. She tossed off her clothes and scurried into the tub, pulling the circular shower curtain around her.
Halfway through washing, she forgot the business with the tree. She forgot that she was just Jane. Instead, she was in the shower with him. He washed her hair with his long, strong fingers. Her knees grew weak as she leaned slightly back to feel his wet, warm body against her spine….
CHARLES ADJUSTED his gray silk tie, then picked up his hairbrush. The speakerphone in the bathroom hummed with white noise while he waited for David to come back on the line.
“You still there?”
“Yes.” Charles finished the last of his ablutions. “And I’m leaving in about two seconds.”
“Oh, keep your shorts on. It was an important errand.”
“Your coffee?”
“Yes.”
“For God’s sake, David, you know—”
“I know you don’t like distractions in the morning, but too bad. I need to know what you’re doing on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s not for a week. I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know yet? Your life is planned so far in advance you probably know the day you’re going to die.”
“I don’t know, David.”
“Well, figure it out. Sarah wants you to come to dinner, and she won’t leave me alone until I get it confirmed.”
“Why don’t you tell your sister she needs to get out more?”
“This from a man whose last date was what, a year ago?”
“David, I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait. First tell me if today’s the day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Does the ad come out today?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do if she calls?”
“I’m going to answer the phone.”
“Ha ha. Very amusing.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t you do it! Don’t—”
He did. David would get over it. His former roommate and closest friend had several annoying habits, like calling in the morning when Charles needed the line free for his brokers. The Asian market didn’t care about his Christmas plans, and neither,
