I'll Take New York

by Miranda Dickinson

  ‘I’m sorry. I—’ he began, but to his surprise, Bea nodded.

  ‘Sounds like a plan. I didn’t realise you lived so close to me …’ Blushing again, she stared at her feet. ‘Now that sounded like I was hitting on you.’

  Seeing Bea as vulnerable as he felt, Jake relaxed. ‘We made a pact, remember? Nobody’s hitting on anyone when it comes to us.’

  As they sat together in the back of the yellow cab, Jake couldn’t hide his smile. Bea hadn’t run a mile, hadn’t refused his admittedly very forward offer of a joint ride home and hadn’t even batted an eyelid when she learned Jake lived only a short distance away from her. That had to be a good sign, right?

  She was watching the lights of the city pass by, shadows between them passing across the contours of her face as she gazed out of the window. Jake realised he was staring and made himself look away.

  ‘It’s been a great night,’ he said. ‘I’m glad we met again.’

  Bea turned to smile at him. ‘Me too. So, what do you fancy doing next time?’

  Wow. He hadn’t expected that question to come from her, especially as he had been working up the courage to ask it himself since they had got into the cab. The lights of Times Square loomed into view and he saw Bea’s wistful expression. Seeing how much she loved the city gave him an idea.

  ‘We should do this city. And I mean, really do it. Tourist things, our own personal things; heck, buy a guidebook even.’

  Bea’s reaction was as bright as the lights passing by the cab windows. ‘Oh, I love that idea! I could show you my favourite places in New York and you could do the same. I mean, you were born here: there must be places you know about that I’ve never seen; and you might be interested in my British viewpoint on New York’s delights.’

  Jake could feel adrenaline pumping through his body as the idea grew in brilliance between them. ‘Awesome. Let’s do it. How about we begin on Sunday with one of yours?’

  Bea considered this, delight claiming her expression. ‘Great idea. I’ll think of something between now and then. This is going to be so much fun!’

  The cab reached Jake’s apartment block and he took Bea’s hand. ‘This is my stop. Where shall I meet you?’

  ‘How about I catch a cab and meet you here, about eleven a.m.?’ she asked. ‘That is, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘Sounds perfect. I’ll be waiting on the street.’ He looked into her eyes and for a moment wondered if he should kiss her cheek. Thinking better of it, he gently squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks for a wonderful evening. I’ll see you Sunday at eleven.’

  She squeezed his hand back and let go. ‘See you then – friend.’

  Jake laughed as he opened the cab door. ‘OK then, friend.’

  Watching the cab pull away, Jake waved and stared after it until the lights disappeared into the next street. Something important had happened tonight: he could feel it. Uncertainty remained, but the bright sparks of possibility blazed within him. Sunday couldn’t come soon enough …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Beads & Beans craft and coffee store, Brooklyn

  ‘It has to involve food,’ Imelda grinned, tossing a bundle of red and white ribbons to Bea for her to sort and wind around wooden bobbins for the new window display.

  ‘Why?’

  Imelda cast her a pitying look. ‘This is New York, Bea. Everything good in this city revolves around food. Think about where your favourite places to eat are. It’s as good as any a place to start.’

  She had a point: and Bea was fast running out of ideas for where to take Jake for their first New York trip tomorrow. At a loss for what to do, she had come to Imelda’s craft store during her lunch break. Imelda was always a great sounding board for ideas and would be bound to think of something Bea hadn’t considered yet.

  ‘I love the Reubens at Katz’s Diner,’ she said, ‘or the dogs at Gray’s Papaya. But are those too obvious?’

  Her friend shrugged. ‘You said interesting places in the city; you didn’t mention they had to be original.’ She frowned. ‘OK. There’s something else going on here, am I right?’

  Embarrassed by her own train of thought, Bea averted her gaze. ‘No.’

  ‘Bull. Don’t ever try lying for a living, Bea, you’d starve in a day.’

  ‘I’m not lying,’ Bea began, but she could tell Imelda had got the measure of her. ‘I don’t know. It just feels important to choose somewhere – right.’

  ‘Right for what? You aren’t proposing to him, honey. You’re just showing him what you love about New York. And, as I recall, there’s a lot you love about this city. Perhaps it would be easier to begin with what you don’t love, seeing as those aspects are significantly smaller?’

  Bea had to laugh. Imelda had accused her of wearing rose-tinted Manhattan spectacles on frequent occasions before, but Bea genuinely hated very little about New York life. It came from years of longing to see the Big Apple, from her earliest memories in England and her fascination with everything American when she first arrived as a starry-eyed teen fifteen years ago. Of course the rents were astronomical and the traffic awful; the weather could be prohibitively harsh in the winter and equally as unforgiving in the height of summer; New York people had precious little patience at the best of times and were never happier than when they were bemoaning the downsides of living in one of the world’s most famous cities. But for Bea, most things still had their peculiar charms, even on frustrating days. She had only to remind herself that she had achieved her dream of making the city her own and had established her own business within it to appreciate how lucky she was to be here.

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ she said, handing the completed bobbins to Imelda who was balancing in the small window setting up a summer picnic display.

  ‘Thanks. Grab that knitted sun, would you? Oh and could you attach some invisible thread so I can hang it, please?’

  Bea searched through the white wicker basket Imelda had given her and pulled out a large, golden yellow knitted sun with a smiley face embroidered in black wool. ‘Did you make this?’

  ‘I was up until three this morning finishing it,’ Imelda grimaced. ‘The things I do for my business.’

  ‘This is genius,’ Bea giggled and turned the sun over in her hands. Today, she felt an affinity with the grinning celestial body. The events of yesterday had been glowing brightly in her mind and she couldn’t help but smile when she thought of Jake. She was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow and desperately wanted to pick somewhere great for their first shared New York experience. Her mind was still a blank, but she was determined to think of somewhere she wanted to show him.

  ‘You can have him when this display’s over,’ her friend offered. ‘Maybe put him up in your kids’ section.’

  ‘I’d love that, thanks.’

  Imelda gave her an evil grin. ‘You could call him Jake.’

  ‘Immi …’

  ‘Give me a break, Bea! You’ve met up with the cute barman-who-is-not-a-barman again – who was all you talked about last time we met – and now you don’t want to give me details?’

  Knotting the thread above the knitted sun, Bea handed it to Imelda. ‘Fine, what do you want to know?’

  Imelda’s face lit up. ‘Everything. Let me hang Jake up in the window and we’ll chat over camomile tea.’

  In reality, there wasn’t much to tell, other than they had been set up, eaten dinner in the cheesiest Italian restaurant on the Eastern seaboard and had decided to see each other again, strictly as friends. It had been a quietly successful evening with a pleasant outcome and the promise of more to come. Yet for Bea, it felt significant: as if this was, as Grandma Dot had intimated in her letter, the key to an important new stage in Bea’s life. She was excited about spending time exploring the city she adored with someone who felt the same way.

  ‘Just how serious is he about this pact of yours?’ Imelda asked, cutting to the heart of the situation as she had a habit of doing.

  ‘Very serious. It
was what got us talking in the first place and he mentioned it again last night.’

  ‘I see. And how serious are you about it?’

  Bea frowned. ‘I’m serious, too.’ She could see Imelda was far from convinced. ‘I mean it, Immi. It was so good to be able to share an evening out with an interesting, engaging man with no expectation that either of us wanted anything more than friendship. I haven’t experienced that before, not even with Russ. There’s always been a bank of questions waiting behind every conversation, even if neither of us care to go there now.’

  ‘And it doesn’t help even a little bit that Jake is drop-dead gorgeous?’

  Bea had to smile. ‘He might be pleasant to look at …’

  ‘Aha!’

  ‘But so is New York,’ Bea added, thwarting her friend’s triumph. ‘And I don’t want to date New York.’

  ‘Forgive me if I don’t believe you.’ Imelda handed Bea a mug of fragrant tea. ‘You just keep telling yourself you only want Jake as a friend. Time will tell if you’re kidding yourself or not.’

  Imelda’s words stuck in Bea’s mind as she returned to Hudson River Books. Maybe Jake was gorgeous – actually, there was no maybe about it – but the bottom line was this: Jake liked her as a friend and wanted to spend time with her. And Bea needed a friend so much more than another complicated matter of the heart. As far as she could see, this was the perfect arrangement.

  Sunday morning was a little overcast, with the promise of sun later that day. Bea was pleased at least that rain hadn’t been forecast, due to the open-air nature of her chosen destination. She still wasn’t entirely sure of her choice as the yellow taxi headed into Williamsburg, but it was too late to change her mind now.

  Jake was waiting on the sidewalk outside his apartment building as he’d promised and looked comfortably casual in jeans, white T-shirt and grey flannel jacket. Bea was pleased she had also opted for jeans this morning, reflecting the relaxed nature of what she hoped would be a fun day out.

  ‘Morning,’ Jake smiled as he climbed into the cab. ‘Long time no see.’

  Bea giggled. ‘That’s the kind of joke my dad loves.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘It’s a compliment. Sort of.’

  Jake nodded. ‘I’ll take your word for it. So, Tour Guide Bea, where are we headed?’

  ‘Before I tell you, let me say that I thought it was best to begin with obvious places first. It’s somewhere I went to the very first week I arrived in New York and it was my childhood dream to see it.’

  ‘Empire State?’

  ‘Good guess. But no.’

  ‘Statue of Liberty? I should probably tell you now that I’m not the biggest fan of the Staten Island Ferry. Or boats of any type, to be frank. They challenge my “in-control Doctor of Psychology” persona.’

  ‘Ah. Good job I steered clear of boats, then.’

  Jake grinned. ‘That’s a relief.’ He looked out of the cab window. ‘Well, I’m guessing as we’ve come over the Hudson River that our destination is not a Brooklyn landmark. Would I be correct in assuming it’s in Manhattan?’

  ‘You would. It’s really obvious – I hope you aren’t disappointed.’

  Jake touched her arm. ‘Hey, Bea, relax. Wherever we’re going I’m experiencing it from your perspective: no matter how many times I may have visited before, I won’t ever have seen it through your eyes. That’s the point of this exercise: for me anyway.’

  It was a good answer. Feeling happy, Bea smiled back at Jake. ‘OK, then.’

  ‘But you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?’

  ‘Nope. It’s a surprise.’

  Jake looked towards the cab driver, whose grin could be clearly seen in the rear view mirror. ‘And I guess you won’t enlighten me either?’

  The driver gave a Manhattan shrug. ‘I’m sorry. You heard the lady.’

  Sunday traffic through central Manhattan was heavier than Bea had anticipated and by the time the cab pulled up on the corner of 5th Avenue and 59th Street, she was buzzing with excitement.

  ‘Here we are, people,’ the driver announced.

  Bea handed him the fare plus a generous tip. ‘Thanks for not telling.’

  ‘Hey, my pleasure. You kids have fun, now.’

  ‘Are you taking me to the zoo?’ Jake asked as they stood on the sidewalk beside the entrance to Central Park. Horse-drawn carriages queued alongside them, jostling for position with tourist coaches and New York City buses and the corner was alive with bustling crowds. The sun had begun to break through the clouds and a light summer breeze had sprung up. Bea was pleased with her choice: she couldn’t have ordered a better day to bring Jake here.

  ‘No – unless you want to go there?’

  Jake’s laugh was full and hearty. ‘I haven’t been to the zoo since my seventh birthday. I ate too many doughnuts and threw up by the ape enclosure. Not my finest hour. But hey, maybe I’ll take you there to reminisce.’

  Bea pulled a face. ‘I’ll look forward to that, then.’ She nodded in the direction of the park entrance, where a group of portly tourists in ill-advised outfits of pressed shorts and tucked-in polo shirts were gathered around a tourist map. ‘Shall we go in?’

  ‘Lead the way, Ms James.’

  They passed the group – who were now arguing about whether or not to buy hotdogs from a nearby stand before they attempted to enter – and strolled into the park, the dappled sunlight through the trees passing over their heads. It was beautiful and at last Bea relaxed about bringing Jake here: yes, it was an obvious choice to come to Central Park, but when she’d arrived in New York City it had been the very first place she had visited on her first weekend. She had never lost the sense of wonder at finally standing in the place she had dreamed of so many times before.

  ‘So, why Central Park?’ Jake asked, casting a glance at Bea as they walked along winding paths, flanked by iconic black cast iron lampposts.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Good point. But you’ve brought me here because it’s one of your favourite places, so why does it mean so much to you?’

  They rounded a corner in the path and the trees opened up to reveal a large expanse of water surrounded by lush greenery, framed by famous buildings beyond the trees.

  A huge grin broke out across Jake’s face. ‘Ah, OK. I get it. The Pond, right?’

  Bea’s heart skipped as it always did when this view appeared before her. ‘The Pond. I know it’s a tourist cliché, but it means a lot to me. It’s beautiful and I feel like it’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.’

  Bea loved this part of Central Park at any time of the year but today, with china blue sky overhead and bright summer sunshine, it looked especially beautiful. The Pond – more of an ornamental lake rather than the small patch of water its name suggested – was surrounded by green lawns where New York citizens and tourists alike were sitting enjoying the sunshine. Jake and Bea walked through a gorgeous palette of greens, from the weeping willow trees and artfully arching tree boughs to the sunny grass spaces and deep green reeds surrounding the expanse of water. Even though it was busy today with a steady stream of city dwellers taking a break from the bustle of their New York day, this part of Central Park still exuded a relaxing serenity.

  Bea stopped by the water’s edge, gazing across the Pond to the iconic, ivy-covered bridge at the other end. This scene was as familiar to her as the photographs from her childhood, showing summer picnics on the banks of the River Severn with Stewart, Grandma Dot and Grandpa George, because it was the subject of a large poster Bea had in her bedroom from the age of ten. In her version the Pond was a black and white winter landscape, the lit lamps around its paths illuminating the bridge in the shadow of the Plaza Hotel. She had gazed upon it every night before she slept; and as soon as she had known she was coming to New York to study at Columbia University, the thing she had been most excited about was standing in the spot where the photograph had been taken. On her first Saturday in New York, sevent
een-year-old Bea James had stood exactly where she was with Jake now, and had sobbed unashamedly as her long-held dream came true.

  The memory of that moment made her blink back a rogue tear and she became aware that Jake was watching her.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What for?’ He looked closer. ‘This place means a lot to you, huh?’

  Bea sniffed. ‘It does. It was the first image of New York I ever saw when I was little and I still have to pinch myself that I can see it for real now, any time I like.’

  She wondered if her new companion would be amused by her sudden sentimentality, but Jake’s smile was warm and comforting. ‘It must feel wonderful to know you have achieved your dream.’

  ‘It does. But then I’m proud of everything I’ve achieved in New York.’

  ‘And rightly so.’

  They found a bench beside one of the famous lampposts where the path curved slightly, and sat watching the ever-moving crowds passing over the grey stone bridge. Behind it, New York’s famous buildings framed the skyline: giant sunbathing monoliths of stone and glass perfecting the scene.

  ‘I always think the bridge looks as if it’s floating above the water in the summer when the bushes and trees at each end are in full leaf,’ Bea said, not minding whether Jake was amused by her observation or not. ‘It looks like a green-mottled rainbow arcing between two green clouds.’

  ‘You know, I never noticed that before. But I kinda see what you mean,’ Jake grinned.

  ‘Have you come here a lot in the past?’ Bea asked, keen to know which parts of the city they both had an affinity with.

  ‘Actually, no. I grew up in the Upper East Side and we rarely visited as kids – apart from my fateful visit to the zoo, that is. I spent time in the park later on, especially when I was working at my first practice, but it was nearer the Lake and it was only ever to go for lunchtime runs or to grab a half-hour lunch break.’

  ‘How about at Christmas? Surely you must’ve come ice-skating?’ Bea couldn’t imagine anyone lucky enough to be born in Manhattan not heading straight to the Wollman Rink as soon as the first flurry of snow fell. It was the ultimate New York winter scene, even though she herself had never ventured out on the ice there. Instead, she and Russ would watch other people’s dodgy ice moves on the Rockefeller Center Rink each year when they did their Christmas shopping together.