“Does she come to see him often?”
“She used to. You know, before they split up. Since then, I haven’t seen her much.”
Katrina stared at the closed door and wondered what they were talking about. Were they getting back together?
“You want something to drink while you wait?” Peter asked.
She looked at him. “You think I should wait?”
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Not really.”
“Then why not stick around? I’m sure he’ll be out soon.”
Katrina stiffened. She was anxious to talk to Justin about her idea, but the queasy sensation rolling through her told her she was feeling more than anxiety.
The thought of seeing him with his wife made her uneasy, even nervous.
But that wasn’t all.
The thought of seeing Justin with his wife also made her . . . jealous.
She caught her breath.
Oh no.
“Katrina?” Peter eyed her with concern. “You okay?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry. Yes, sure. I’ll have a skim latte. Thanks, Peter.”
“No blueberry scone? Aren’t you leaving town soon? You won’t have many more chances to get ’em warm like they are right now.”
She laughed. “Okay, sure. Why not?”
He pointed to her purse. “You’ve got your New York Times in there?”
“Always.”
He nodded toward her favorite table. “Go have a seat and read. I’ll bring over your order in a minute.”
“Okay. Thanks, Peter.”
“My pleasure.” He glanced briefly at the closed door, then lowered his voice and gave Katrina a look she hadn’t seen before. “Between you and me, I never liked her anyway.”
Fifteen minutes later, Katrina heard the click of a door. She glanced up from her newspaper and saw Justin emerge from the back room, followed by his wife, who didn’t look anything like Katrina had expected. She was tall and slender, with straight, nearly white blonde hair cut into a sharp bob. She wore a fitted black pantsuit and a single strand of pearls. Though she was undeniably beautiful, her eyes were cold.
Katrina turned away and forced herself to stare at her newspaper until she heard the chime of the front door. She read the same sentence six times, not grasping a single word.
Her foot began to tap under the table.
What were they talking about?
Why am I so nervous?
She touched the bridge of her nose and pictured the freckles there. She hadn’t gotten a close look, but she bet Justin’s wife didn’t have freckles. She looked too chic to have freckles.
“Hey, Kat. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
She looked up and saw Justin standing there, a strained expression on his face.
“Are you okay?” She yanked her hand away from her face.
He frowned. “When I got married, I never dreamed that one day I’d be reviewing divorce papers.”
“You’re getting divorced?” Her foot stopped tapping, and her nerves began to calm, now that it was just the two of them.
“Looks like it.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Justin.” She gestured to the empty chair at her table. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He took a seat but shook his head. “Not really.”
“It might make you feel better to talk about it. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”
He smiled. “I appreciate that, but right now I’d rather talk about anything other than this.”
She didn’t reply. What could she say to a man whose wife had just officially left him?
Finally, he spoke. “So what did you want to see me about?”
She stood up to leave. “Maybe I should come back another time. I feel like I’m intruding.”
He reached out to squeeze her arm. “Kat, sit down. I could use the distraction. And the friendly face.”
She slowly sat back down, trying not to notice how warm his hand felt on her arm. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you.”
“I’m sure. And you could never bother me. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?”
She took a deep breath and went over her talking points in her head.
Opening observation about your New York experience.
Main statement and supporting points.
Closing expression of hope for the future.
She closed her eyes.
You can do this.
“Kat?” Justin asked. “You there?”
She opened her eyes, then sat up straight and pressed her hands together. “Okay. Well, as you know, I’m supposed to be leaving soon but have really grown to love New York . . .”
Chapter Nineteen
Grace narrowed her eyes at Katrina. “So why all the secrecy? You’re like the freaking CIA all of a sudden.”
“What’s going on, Kat?” Shana asked. “You have me curious.”
“First, let me buy each of you a drink. What would you like?” They were seated at a table at Headless Horseman in Union Square.
“The lightweight’s buying drinks? Now I’m really curious,” Grace said. “I’ll take a Stoli and soda.”
“I’ll have the same,” Shana said.
After Katrina had ordered the cocktails and a Sprite for herself, she turned to face her friends. She spread her palms on the table and took a deep breath, then began her prepared remarks, which she’d practiced all afternoon.
“You know how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know you both, right? And how much I appreciate the way you took me under your wing, no questions asked, even though I was a little, um . . . reserved.”
Grace coughed. “A little? Dude, a fully booked restaurant was less reserved.”
“Be nice, Gracie.” Shana smiled at Katrina. “You’ve really blossomed since then, Kat.”
“I know I have, and I owe a lot of that to you two. With the exception of Deb, you’ve become my best friends, even though I will never be able to go drinking properly with you.”
“You’re tragic at drinking,” Grace said. “It’s truly embarrassing.”
“Gracie . . .” Shana said.
“That’s okay. It’s true. I’m a terrible drinker. But it’s fine, because while I’ve always known that booze isn’t my thing, now I’m fine with just saying so, as opposed to avoiding social situations altogether. But what I’m getting at is that you two mean a lot to me now, and while I know it sounds really cheesy, I couldn’t imagine my life without both of you in it.”
Grace reached a tiny arm behind her own shoulder and patted herself on the back. “I tend to have that effect on people.”
Katrina looked at Shana. “You know how much I’ve loved taking your classes, right? And especially how wonderful I think your stories are, despite what Blair says about them.”
Shana nodded.
Katrina turned to Grace. “And you know I’m crazy about your jewelry, right? How I think that any buyer who wouldn’t snap it up is foolish?”
Grace narrowed her eyes again. “Where are you going with this? Is this the part where you tell us you’re really a millionaire CEO? Or a man?” She looked up and around the room. “Are we on camera right now?”
Shana patted Grace’s head. “You really need to stop watching so much reality TV.”
“Anyhow,” Katrina said, continuing with her script, “since I’ve been in New York, I’ve changed a lot, and I’ve realized that much of that change has to do with how I look at things now, and that a new perspective can completely alter how you experience something. Like seeing Manhattan from the Brooklyn Promenade, for example.” She looked at Shana. “Or new packaging, like the Hampton Jitney.”
Grace gave her a strange look. “Say what? Dude, are you okay?”
Katrina nodded. �
�I’m fine. What I’m trying to say—in a rather roundabout way, I admit—is this: I have an idea.” She shifted in her seat and took another deep breath, then looked at Shana. “First, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about you. I don’t think you realize how special your yoga classes are, Shana. You have a real gift for connecting with people.”
Shana smiled. “I do?”
“She does?” Grace said.
“Yes, she does.” Katrina put a hand on Shana’s arm. “Your talks are so insightful. When I listen to them, I always feel like you’re talking directly to me, as though you know just what I need to hear, exactly when I need to hear it, before I even know I need to hear it.”
Grace held up her palms. “This is getting a little too touchy-feely for me.”
Katrina laughed. “What I mean is, I think your talks probably have that effect on all your students, that everyone gets what they need out of them, however it applies to their own life.”
Shana’s face broke into a grin. “You mean like . . . a horoscope? That’s how I think about them when I write them.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s all about your own perspective.”
“As you well know, Blair thinks I should focus more on making people sweat,” Shana said.
“Blair doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Katrina said.
“Is this going anywhere?” Grace sipped her drink and pretended to nod off.
Katrina nodded. “I think Shana probably already knows this, but I suspect her heart isn’t in the Broadway thing anymore, if it ever was. I think—however unexpectedly—she’s found her heart’s now in teaching yoga.” She looked at Shana. “Am I wrong about that?”
Shana looked down. “You’re not wrong. Josh says the same thing.”
Katrina turned to Grace and began the next section of her speech. “And I’ve also been thinking about you.”
Grace fluttered her eyelashes. “Moi? That’s my favorite subject.”
“Yes, you. I love your jewelry, and I know how you’ve been beating your head against the wall trying to find stores willing to sell it.”
“True. Lame-ass finicky buyers.”
“And then there’s me.” Katrina put a hand on her chest. “I’ve never really said it out loud, but deep down . . . I’ve always dreamed about having a place to show my paintings.”
“As you should! How many times have I told you I love your paintings?” Shana said.
Grace checked the time on her phone. “Are we going to get to hear this big idea before I’m old and gray? My mom and her sister both went gray prematurely, so I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Let her talk, Gracie,” Shana said.
Katrina took one last deep breath, then exhaled. “Okay, here it is. I’d like to open a new kind of multifaceted studio . . . and I’d like you two to help me.”
“Say what?” Grace said.
“What do you mean by new kind?” Shana asked.
Katrina looked at Shana. “Remember the other day in class, when you asked us to share why we do yoga, and we all had a different response?”
“That made me so happy.”
“Well, that’s what I’m thinking this place would offer—something unique and special for everyone. It would be a yoga studio, but not just any yoga studio. I envision a beautiful, welcoming space where you can teach more classes—and inspire others—as you’ve inspired me, and have more fun doing it than you do working for Blair. But it wouldn’t be just yoga.” She pointed to Grace. “We’d also sell your jewelry . . . and my paintings.”
“Ooh, I like that.” Grace rubbed her tiny hands together. “I like any plan that involves selling my jewelry.”
“We’d position the studio as a place for people to relax, hang out with friends, and talk, maybe look at things from a new angle, or just a place to get motivated or inspired, in whatever way that makes sense to them.”
Katrina gave Shana an anxious look. “What do you think?”
Shana bit her lip, then slowly shook her head. “Honestly, it sounds amazing. Really amazing. But I don’t have the money for something like that, Kat. I’m sorry.”
“I have some money, but other than doing taxes, I don’t know squat about running that kind of business,” Grace said.
Katrina leaned toward them and spread her hands on the table. “I know. That’s why I spoke to Justin first.”
Shana raised her eyebrows. “Justin?”
“Yes. He’d mentioned that he’s always looking for new investment opportunities, so I ran my idea by him. He knows a lot about this sort of thing because he’s been operating several small businesses for a while. Did you know that in addition to the coffeehouses, he owns three delis and two pubs?”
“Wow, who knew Justin was such a badass?” Grace said.
Katrina smiled. “He’s so modest, isn’t he? Anyhow, we talked about it, and then we sort of expanded on the idea a little bit. He had a lot of good ideas, actually.”
“What do you mean, expanded on the idea?” Shana asked.
“Well, as I was trying to explain my thoughts to him—to convey that I wanted a quiet, friendly place where people could get together—I realized that his coffeehouse already has that vibe. So we got to talking, and we thought maybe we could add coffee and pastries to the mix. Nothing fancy, but make the place a combination yoga studio/coffeehouse with soft music playing in the background, and maybe a basket of newspapers and cool magazines for people to read if they’re on their own. Plus Justin’s amazing scones to nibble on. In blueberry and plain, of course.”
“Sounds dreamy,” Shana said. “And yummy. Totally up my alley.”
“So Justin’s on board with this?” Grace asked. “Like for real?”
Katrina nodded. “If we’re in for the elbow grease, he’s in to back us financially. He’d be the main investor, and he’d help the three of us work out the rest based on our availability, interest level, and skills. For example, Justin could teach me how to make lattes, but I could also do the books. And Grace could manage the tax side of things.”
Shana’s expression changed from excitement to one of confusion. “But what would all this mean for you? You’re supposed to be going home soon to start that new job.”
Katrina smiled. “I guess . . . my plans would have to change.”
Shana clapped her hands together. “No way! You’d really stay here?”
Katrina nodded. “I really would. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but yes, I really would.”
Grace turned her hand into a paw. “Meeeeooow. Way to go, Kitty Kat!”
Katrina removed a small notebook from her purse and opened it on the table. “I know it would be pretty life-altering—what am I saying, totally life-altering—to do this. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time here, it’s that change is only scary if you let it be.”
Shana clapped her hands again. “I love that! Can I use it in one of my classes?”
“Of course.” Katrina removed a pen from her purse and tapped the paper. “Here’s a detailed list of what we’d have to do to make it happen.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “You and your lists. Some things will never change.”
“This is terrifical,” Shana said. “I’m so excited!”
“What are you thinking of calling this hippie-dippie yoga studio slash comfy coffeehouse slash place to show Kitty’s paintings slash shop that sells my freaking amazing jewelry?” Grace asked, then put a hand on her jaw. “Damn, that was a mouthful, even for my big mouth.”
Katrina pointed her pen at her. “Now that is a good question.”
Chapter Twenty
“You all packed?” Justin asked as he took a seat across from Katrina.
She broke off a piece of scone and nodded. “All set.”
He gestured to the tan suede jacket
she had on, another gem she’d found at a consignment store. “Given how you never seem to wear the same outfit twice, I’m guessing you have quite a bit more stuff than when you arrived. Did you have to buy another suitcase?”
“Perhaps. You have a problem with that, sir?” She gave him a look of mock indignation, but she was secretly thrilled to be classified as any kind of fashionista—and that he’d noticed what she wore.
He laughed. “If you need to leave anything at my place while you’re in California, you’re more than welcome to.”
“I’m fine, but thanks for the offer. I’m actually storing most of my stuff at Grace’s apartment.” She wondered what his house was like though. She’d learned he owned a single-family brownstone on East Twenty-Third and now lived there alone. Were he and his wife still speaking? Though she was curious, she didn’t want to be intrusive.
“What time are you leaving for the airport?” Justin asked.
“Not until two. My flight’s at four o’clock.”
“I’m sorry I can’t drive you there.”
“Don’t worry about it. You have a pretty good excuse. How are you feeling?”
“About my meeting?”
She nodded.
“Not great. I never imagined I’d be hiring a divorce lawyer to handle the separation of assets. To be honest, it sounds like something out of a soap opera.”
Katrina frowned. “I’m so sorry. It’s bound to get easier once you get through this part, right?”
He shrugged. “That’s what I keep telling myself. That and it’s for the best.”
“It is for the best. I’m sure of it. You deserve so much better. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially not you.”
“I appreciate that. So what do you have there?” He pointed at a rectangular item propped against her chair. It was thin and wrapped in brown construction paper.
She felt her cheeks get a bit warm. “This? Um, well, this is for you.” She reached down to pick it up, then handed it to him.
“For me?” He looked genuinely surprised. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
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