The Real Deal. Debbi Rawlins
snorted, finished her drink and checked the time. “I know this is tradition and all, but honestly, we should’ve just done this on the phone. I assume Thanksgiving dinner will be at four,” she said, glancing at everyone and then promptly continuing, apparently requiring no agreement. “This year I’ll be in charge of drinks for the adults and kids, and there’s a fabulous new bakery around the corner from my office that’s taking orders for dinner rolls and pies, so I’ll take care of that, as well.”
“Store-bought pies and rolls?” Denise gaped. “Seriously?”
“Look, most of the time everyone is too stuffed for dessert, and shouldn’t we give Emily a break? Unless you’re planning on making the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and yam casserole?”
Denise flushed and slid Emily an apologetic look. “I figured I’d bring the salad, cranberry sauce and nuts as usual. We’ll be arriving home that morning after skiing in Vail so I won’t have time to actually cook.”
Pam raised her brows at their mother. “You’ll take care of the peas and pearl onions?”
“I’ll be gone overnight to Chicago myself. I promised Carla I’d go shopping with her before the Christmas rush. But I think I can handle the peas and onion dish. I know how much Mark looks forward to it.”
“How fun. Chicago will be perfect. I bet the city will have decorated for Christmas by then,” Pam said, and went on to describe the surprise she had for her husband.
With growing frustration, Emily listened to them discuss their respective plans for shopping and visiting friends and skiing. Firmly reminding herself that this was as much her fault as it was theirs didn’t seem to help. No one had bothered to ask her what she wanted to contribute or even if she felt like tackling the epic meal. They assumed she’d be in charge, just like they did every holiday. It was a task to which she herself had always acquiesced without complaint.
She quietly cleared her throat. “I won’t be here.”
Pam and Denise abruptly looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief.
Their mother, who was in the middle of relating an anecdote about her last Chicago shopping trip, stopped talking. Obviously she hadn’t heard Emily. Looking confused, her gaze skipped to each of her daughters. “What?”
“Repeat that,” Pam ordered.
“I won’t be here for Thanksgiving.” Just saying the words scared the living daylights out at her, but too bad. She’d had it.
“You’re kidding.” Denise frowned. “Where else would you be?”
Emily hesitated, her heart thudding. “New York.”
“Seriously,” Denise said in a suspicious voice. “New York. You never go anywhere, and you’re suddenly going someplace like New York?”
“I thought it would be fun to do my shopping there this year.” Emily gritted her teeth at the amused way Pam and her mother were staring at her. They thought she was bluffing. Oh, God, there’d be no backing out now.
“And when were you going to tell us you had other plans for Thanksgiving?” Pam asked with that hint of reproach her older sister had mastered over the years.
“As soon as you guys bothered to ask.”
Pam made a sound of exasperation. “But you always… This is because of the UPS guy, isn’t it? Really, Emily, you so need to get laid.”
“Come on, girls.” Their mother pinned them with a warning look she hadn’t used since they were in high school.
Emily huffed out a laugh. Not that she’d ever admit it in this lifetime, but her sister was right. Getting laid was exactly what Emily needed. And New York sounded like the perfect place to do it.
THE FLIGHT HAD BEEN BUMPY, the layover in Detroit endless and now dark threatening clouds hovered over LaGuardia airport as Emily stood at the curb waiting for a shuttle to take her to the overpriced Manhattan hotel that she had impulsively allowed Marnie to book. At least her bag had made it. Two other women standing at baggage claim next to her found out that their luggage had gone to Florida by mistake.
Although, even if she and her bag had parted ways, the loss would’ve been minimal. She’d purposely packed light. No baggy sweats, no fuzzy pink slippers or holey T-shirts, only one pair of jeans, two blouses and enough underwear to get her to the nearest Victoria’s Secret. She knew herself too well. If she didn’t force herself to shop for new clothes, she would stoop to wearing the same comfy rags she always wore.
Instead, she’d searched online for stores before she’d left home and had an entire shopping itinerary planned for tomorrow, her first full day in the city. The second thing she was going to do was find a guide. Not for the entire week of her stay, but just for a few days. The recommendations she’d gotten from Marnie sounded pretty cool but really expensive.
Meanwhile, she just hoped she’d meet a guy sometime during her trip that she liked well enough to dust off a condom. And that she’d be brave enough to go through with it.
The idea of a vacation fling was mostly scary but also exhilarating. Maybe here, where it was…nothing like home, she’d find a whole new side to herself. After all, she had a whole glorious week ahead of her, as she’d reminded herself on the plane ride often enough. Because if she hadn’t continually given herself pep talks, fear and uncertainty would have made her wish she’d never opened her mouth that fateful day in the den.
The trepidation she’d been experiencing was totally irrational, a fact she admitted. Not even thirty and she’d become a creature of habit, afraid to step out of her comfort zone, afraid to take the smallest chance or make the most minimal change in her life.
No, that wasn’t quite true. Fear was the simple answer. The pathetic truth was, the idea to broaden her horizons never entered her complacent mind. For the past five years she’d been insidiously content to be a hermit. Crazy really, because she was curious by nature. She loved learning new things. That’s why she adored her job as a freelance copy editor.
She noticed a shuttle approaching, and to make sure she boarded the right van, she checked the name that the woman at the information booth had scribbled down for her.
This trip would be good for her. Just what she needed to push herself out into the world. Instead of slaving over a hot stove all Thanksgiving morning while her family was out cavorting, she’d find a sinfully decadent brunch in a fancy hotel. Maybe she’d go all out. Not even have turkey and all the trimmings, but a big old plate of rich, gooey desserts instead.
For once in her life, no adventure would be too intimidating or too exotic. Each day she’d tackle something unthinkable. Hire a drop-dead gorgeous guide to show her around the town. Eat at a five-star restaurant by herself. Nope, she wouldn’t be afraid to try anything, she decided with conviction, clutching her carry-on with a clammy palm.
At least, that was the plan.
2
“HEY, NICKY, OVER HERE! Wait. Come on, sign this cap for my nephew, will ya?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nick Corrigan saw the dark-haired man waving the blue baseball cap. He’d come out of the shadows, just to the left of the door, as if he’d been waiting outside of the apartment building for Nick to leave.
“Get lost, pal. I’m not telling you again,” the bulky doorman growled and positioned himself in between Nick and the insistent fan.
“It’s okay, Leo. I’ll sign his hat.”
The older man shook his graying head, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “You know what happens after you stop to sign one, Nicky. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”
“I know.” He reached around to take the cap, and sure enough, nearly a block away, a pair of kids—about twelve or thirteen years old—scampered across the street, weaving around speeding taxis in