“Given how popular Brooklyn is now, we’re hoping to have a lot of business, even from fancy Manhattanites like you,” Katrina said. “Oh, that reminds me: thanks so much for the fancy cupcakes. They’re a huge hit.”
“It’s my pleasure. Your new apartment is near here?”
Katrina nodded. “In a brownstone around the corner. It’s not big, but it’s super charming. I’m madly in love with it.”
“Look at you, all grown-up and making things happen. I’m impressed. Pretty soon you’ll be teaching me a thing or two.”
“I highly doubt that will ever happen, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Brittany touched one of the spaghetti straps on Katrina’s black cocktail dress, which she’d bought months ago at Chelsea Market. “I’m digging the frock. Did you buy that here?”
Katrina nodded. “To be honest, I don’t wear many of my California clothes that much anymore. I’ve realized they’re all a little, um, conservative, especially for New York.”
Deb laughed. “Have I not been telling you that forever? Your wardrobe was conservative for Mountain View, for crying out loud.”
Brittany gave Katrina’s shoulder a squeeze. “Well, whatever it is you’re doing, it’s working. You look gorgeous.”
She wandered off to mingle, and Deb turned to Katrina. “Do you think your parents will ever come to visit? I know your mom would love this place, no matter how much she pretended to hate it for a host of imaginary reasons.”
Katrina shrugged. “Maybe, eventually. She’s still upset with me for turning down that accounting job, but if she can’t tell how much happier I am now, then it’s really not my problem. My dad called to wish me luck today, though, for both of them.”
Deb smiled. “It’s so great to see this new attitude and confidence. I mean, I miss you to death, of course, but this really seems like the right place for you.”
Katrina lowered her voice and leaned toward Deb. “Thanks, but just between you and me, Katrina has been tutoring rich kids in math on the side, just in case this all blows up in Kat’s face.”
Brittany reappeared from the crowd, a fresh champagne flute in one hand, a miniature cupcake in the other. She gestured with her eyes toward the coffee bar. “That guy serving the cupcakes is hot.”
Katrina flinched. “Justin?” She doubted Brittany was referring to Josh.
Brittany nodded. “The tall one with the sexy stubble going on. I’m digging it. What’s his story? I didn’t see a ring.”
“I thought you didn’t care about marital status.”
Brittany shrugged. “I don’t. I just like to know what I’m getting into, that’s all.”
“He’s divorced,” Katrina said. “It’s official—as of last week, actually.” She’d noticed that he’d stopped wearing his ring several weeks ago, but she didn’t feel the need to share that information. Plus she’d already learned her lesson about men and wedding rings.
Brittany raised her eyebrows and glanced in Justin’s direction again. “Is that so? Interesting . . .”
“Don’t go there,” Deb said.
Brittany looked at her. “Why not? Is he dating someone already?”
“After tonight, he’d better be.” Deb put her arm around Katrina.
Brittany smiled at Katrina. “You mean you and he . . . ?”
“Oh, no.” Katrina felt her cheeks flush. “We’re just friends.”
Deb gave her a squeeze. “And as I said, if all goes according to plan, that will soon be changing. Little Miss Fraidy Cat here just needs to woman up and confess that she’s got the hots for him.”
Brittany laughed. “I like you.”
“Right back at ya,” Deb said.
Katrina scanned the crowd and noticed that Justin was looking in their direction. She wanted to wave a quick hello, but instead she found herself averting her eyes.
“You suuuure you don’t want me to stay with you while you lock up?” Deb asked Katrina, fluttering her eyelashes, her voice loud enough for Justin to overhear. She was reciting from a script, which the two of them had written over the phone just yesterday.
Katrina shooed her away, trying to focus as she awkwardly delivered her own line. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. I just want to give the floor a quick sweep.”
Deb grinned at her, her voice still loud. “That sounds good. See you there.”
Brittany draped her pale-green pashmina over her shoulders and looked at Katrina. “What’s this place we’re going to called?”
The script officially completed by Deb, Katrina answered freely. “Custom House. I guess you could call it a modern Irish pub, if there is such a thing.”
Grace interlaced her arm with Shana’s. “As long as they serve alcohol, I don’t care what it looks like inside.”
Brittany cocked her head toward Grace and said to Deb, “I like her too.”
“Everyone likes me,” Grace said.
“I’m glad I have such confident friends,” Katrina said.
Josh walked up with Li and handed Shana her purse. “You ladies ready?”
Grace looked around the empty room. “Where’s Justin?”
Josh pointed toward the hall leading into the yoga studio. “He said he’d catch up with us at the bar.”
Deb winked at Katrina. “Right on cue.”
Katrina led her friends to the front door and closed it gently behind them, the bells jingling as it locked into place. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
You can do this.
She headed toward the closet to retrieve a broom, smoothing her hands down the sides of her dress as she walked. As she began sweeping the hardwood floors, she reviewed her prepared remarks in her head, trying to concentrate over the music still playing in the background.
Casual yet interesting observation about the evening.
Main statement and supporting points.
Closing expression of endearment.
Possible physical contact, if above goes well.
A moment later, the music stopped.
Katrina set the broom against a wall and turned around.
The time had come.
“Justin?” she called toward the yoga studio.
No reply.
“Justin? Are you there?” She began to make her way to the back room, the connecting hallway suddenly eerily silent. The door was open, but she didn’t see him as she approached. She took a step inside and cautiously looked around the studio. It was dark save for a small lamp set against the far wall.
“Justin?”
Had he left?
“Right here.” His voice came from behind her.
She jumped and swung around. Justin was standing right there, his face in shadow.
She put a hand on her heart. “Oh, you scared me.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry.”
“Where did you come from?”
He kept smiling. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he walked to the middle of the room and looked up at the stars glowing on the ceiling. “Pretty good party, don’t you think?”
“Yes, great party.”
He turned to look right at her. “I think it’s a good sign.”
“You do?” She swallowed.
Do it now!
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
She nodded slightly. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Do it!
He began walking toward her. “Are you sure? Can I get you some water?”
She held out a hand against the wall. “I’m fine, I think. I mean . . . I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Shoot.”
“I—” she began, but then completely forgot what she’d been
planning to say. Her mind went blank, her entire speech gone.
She stood there in silence, her mouth agape.
After a few moments, Justin laughed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little strange just standing there with your mouth open.”
She didn’t reply.
“Okay then.” He took a step toward her, then reached over and gently lifted her jaw back into place.
She searched the far corners of her brain, trying to remember any small part of her well-rehearsed declaration.
She came up empty.
Justin chuckled again and glanced around the room. “Anyhow . . . it’s been a lot of work to get this place in shape, but I think it turned out pretty well, don’t you agree?”
She nodded.
“Is it what you imagined when you first came up with the idea?”
She nodded again.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Kat?”
She nodded for a third time.
“Okay, if you say so.” He took another look at the shimmering stars above, then settled his gaze on her. “It’s a perfect night for new beginnings.”
As he spoke the words, she couldn’t help but notice his eyes.
Something about them, something about the way he was looking at her, was different.
The same, yet different.
“I’m proud of you for making this happen,” he said. “For creating a brand-new life for yourself.”
Words finally came to her, though they weren’t the ones she’d practiced so many times in front of the mirror. Those were still MIA. “Well, I couldn’t have done it without you, that’s for sure.” She winced at how stiff they sounded, how bland.
Why can’t you just tell him how you really feel?
After all these months?
What’s wrong with you?
Haven’t you changed at all?
“When I said that, I wasn’t just talking about the studio,” he said.
She blinked. “When you said what?”
“That it’s a perfect night for new beginnings.” He lowered his voice. “I think I’m ready for a new beginning too.”
She took a quick breath, flustered, her pulse quickening. She knew he wasn’t talking about the shop. Or was he? Her goal tonight had been to nudge open the door. She hadn’t let herself imagine a scenario in which he did it himself.
Her mind began to race.
“You are?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
They stood there for a few moments, their eyes locked on each other.
Not speaking.
Just breathing.
“What did you want to say to me?” he finally asked.
She gave him a shaky smile. “I . . . I can’t remember.”
He smiled back at her. “Good, because I have something I want to say to you, something I’ve wanted to say for a long time.” He took another step toward her, his face now just inches from hers. Slowly, very slowly, he touched her cheek. “I love your freckles.”
She swallowed. “You do?”
He nodded as he slipped his arm around her lower back. “You have no idea.”
Then he leaned down and kissed her.
Thank you!
For anyone who regularly reads this page in my books, the name Tami May McMillan is familiar by now, and once again I can’t thank her enough for her help. Not only did she give me the confidence to keep writing Katwalk when I was mired in self-doubt early on, but she also provided some creative input at the tail end of the writing process, just when I needed it. I know in her mind she’s only acting as any good friend would, but I hope she realizes just how much I appreciate both her thoughtful (i.e. no sugar on top) feedback and her unshakable belief in my ability to tell a good story. The same goes for Alberto Ferrer, Lori Rosenwasser, and Terri Sharkey, all regulars on this page who again came through for me in more ways than one.
As with all my books, I peppered Katwalk with nuggets from real life, and I would like to thank the following friends for providing such entertaining material: Steph Bernabe, Chris Conroy, Gloria Fong, Natalie Gonzalez, Joe Green, Joe Guggemos, Laura Curd Gunderson, Dave “Davio” Irving, DJ, Tanya Kalivas, Courtney Carroll Levinsohn, Brett Sharkey, Matt Strand, Jamie Tilotta-Green, Enrique Romero, Ithti Toy Ulit, and Garett Vassel. I feel lucky to know such smart, interesting, and funny people, because let’s face it . . . without them I probably wouldn’t have much to write about.
One friend who unwittingly played a major role in shaping Katwalk is Jenny Jongejan. Her adventurous approach to life is inspiring and infectious, and I thank her for not minding that I loosely modeled the premise of this tale after one of her bolder escapades. I’d also like to bow my head to all the wonderful yoga instructors I’ve had over the years. They’ve taught me to stay focused on what’s really important in life—plus I can finally touch my toes!
I’m beginning to run out of ways to thank my longtime editor, Christina Henry de Tessan, whose talent continues to amaze me. I think she’d agree that she pushed me harder this time than in any of our previous collaborations, but I’m grateful that she did, because it helped me become a better writer. I also can’t thank my dear sweet beautiful mother enough for her proofreading prowess. I keep wondering when I’m going to get an e-mail through my website asking if she’s available for hire outside the family . . .
Last but not least, thanks to my amazing inner circle at Lake Union Publishing for their continued support of my writing career. Here’s to you, Alex Carr, Terry Goodman, and Jessica Poore. I’m so lucky to have you in my corner!
About the Author
Photo © Evi Abeler Photography
Maria Murnane left a successful career as a public-relations executive to pursue a more fulfilling life as a novelist and speaker. Her own “story behind the story” is an entertaining tale of the courage, passion, and perseverance required to get her first novel, Perfect on Paper, published. She is also the author of three sequels in the Waverly Bryson series: It’s a Waverly Life, Honey on Your Mind, and Chocolate for Two, as well as Cassidy Lane. Maria graduated with high honors in English and Spanish from the University of California, Berkeley, where she was a Regents’ and Chancellor’s Scholar. She also holds a master’s degree in integrated marketing communications from Northwestern University. She currently lives in New York City. For more information about her books, speaking engagements, and consulting services, visit www.mariamurnane.com.
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