had started to grow. Of course, Jake had known immediately who it was: on his trips back to New York, the way Ed’s face lit up whenever he mentioned Rosie’s name had given more away than he’d intended. Working together in the Upper West Side florists’ store Rosie had inherited from an old Polish man (who by all accounts was legendary), every story Ed relayed to his brother seemed to include the confident English woman.
The details of how they’d finally got together were sketchy in Jake’s mind as he considered it now – although this was probably due to the empty, Jessica-shaped ache that currently robbed his head of pretty much everything else. However it had happened, Jake knew that he had never seen Ed so at peace, so completely in love and so permanently happy before. In turn, Rosie had charmed Joe from their first meeting and it was almost as if through her eyes he was able to see his middle son for the first time. Jake respected Rosie for that almost as much as he did for the change she had wrought in his brother. He had a lot to thank his soon-to-be sister-in-law for.
‘Threaten to set your fiancée on Dad,’ Jake suggested. ‘If anyone can rein him in, it’s Rosie.’
‘Ha. I’ll mention it to her, maybe. But I’m serious about that drink, Jakey. I haven’t seen you since you came back and I miss my little bro. Besides, I need to get out of Kowalski’s for a while. What with the wedding plans and Marnie’s swollen ankles this place is threatening to become Oestrogen Central. Ow!’
‘What happened?’
‘Rosie hit me … What? I’m on the phone, baby … Really? J-Man, my beautiful wife-to-be wants to speak to you … Passing her across now …’
‘Hi Jake.’ The soothing tone of Rosie’s English accent seemed to reach down the phone line to hug him and instantly Jake began to relax. ‘Welcome home.’
‘Hey, sis-in-law-to-be. Just how crazy is my brother making you?’
Rosie’s groan was a good one: she would fit right in to the Steinmann family. ‘Between you and me, on a scale of one to ten he’s almost reached eleven. Please take him out for a bit? I need to try to smooth things over with your dad and Ed isn’t helping.’
‘Well, all right. But only because it’s you.’
‘Thank you, you’re a star! Listen, how are you? How’s the new home?’
‘Still new. And quiet. And the removal guys seem to have mislaid my coffee machine somewhere between San Fran and here.’
‘Hang in there, you’ll find it.’ There was a definite pause. ‘Have you heard any more from Jess?’
Jake stiffened his spine against the sinking feeling his almost-ex-wife’s name caused nowadays. ‘I heard from her today, actually. That is, I heard from her lawyer.’
‘Oh Jake, no! I’m so sorry. I know it’s clichéd but if you need to talk ’
He laughed. ‘I’m good. I think maybe me taking Ed out of your hair for a couple hours might be good for both of us.’
‘You’re right, it would. But please call me if I can help at all.’
‘Thanks, Rosie. I’ll remember that. Put him back on, OK?’
There was a muffled remark as the phone was passed back to his brother and Jake could picture Ed and Rosie giggling together, surrounded by flowers in their Upper West Side neighbourhood florist store.
‘I think I should be worried about the outrageous way my fiancée flirts with you,’ Ed said. ‘What? It’s blatant, Rosie Duncan!’ Jake could hear the amusement in Rosie’s voice as she made a comment in the background, then Ed laughed. ‘She just said if you’d been free when she was single she might have picked a different Steinmann. Cute. So are we going out to play, bro?’
Jake cast a glance around the bleakness of his new apartment: at the depressing cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked and the bland décor he hadn’t chosen. It didn’t feel like home at all and right now he didn’t think it ever would. He needed to be out of here, before the too-quiet rooms and endless self-analysis in his mind sent him crazy. ‘Yes, we are.’
Hudson River Books, 8th Avenue, Brooklyn
‘Babe, all I want is to make it up to you.’
They had been battling for almost an hour and Bea could feel her resolve beginning to wane. Through it all Otis had stared directly at her in that startling, confident way of his – a weapon that was devastatingly disarming when used to its full effect. He had reached for her hand and managed to hold it for a few seconds before her anger resurged and she pulled it away. Now he was sitting a small distance from her, wearing an expression that begged her to move closer. She rubbed her eyes and wished she had been able to make it out of the door before he had arrived.
‘I’m just so tired of fighting,’ she said, her thoughts becoming words before she could stop them.
‘And so am I. We’ve been here before, Bea, and we’ve always made it back.’
‘Maybe this time is different.’
Why was her love life so complicated? Why, when everyone around her seemed capable of finding halfway decent partners, did she struggle? Bea didn’t consider herself a demanding girlfriend; neither did she experience problems meeting men. But somewhere between the initial spark and the middle of a relationship the problems began – growing and tangling and balling up until she found herself with an unsatisfactory, untrustworthy partner in a situation more akin to a battle of wills than a productive partnership.
‘I don’t see why. Sure, I screwed up: I admit it! But we can move on from this, Bea. I want to make amends.’
‘Amends? How, exactly? Are you going to go and personally apologise to every member of my family who waited for you in the restaurant last night?’
He couldn’t hide his wince from her. ‘If necessary.’
‘My parents set off on their trip this morning. You might catch them somewhere in upstate New York if you’re quick.’
‘Baby …’ He ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair and gave her his best ‘pleading puppy’ look. Ordinarily, this would have worked, Bea relenting at the sight of his contrition.
Not today, Otis, she told herself sternly. Today I need answers for everything.
‘And my brother was baying for your blood. Which, considering Stewart is officially the most laid-back person in the city, was no mean feat.’
Her older brother Stewart – who had never been particularly fond of Bea’s boyfriend – reckoned his sister was attracted to the wrong kind of men. This, of course, was easy for him to surmise, especially given how loved-up he was with his older partner, Celia. Since the pair of them had met at the New York Times where he was a staff writer, writing as Stewart Mitchell (their mother’s maiden name) and Celia was a star columnist, they had been virtually inseparable, settling into the easy rhythm of a deeply contented
