Return to Me
A Katama Bay Series
By
Katie Winters
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2021 by Katie Winters
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Katie Winters holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
––––––––Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-Four
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Chapter One
From the forty-third floor of the Upper West Side high-rise apartment building, Janine Grimson Potter had a perfect view of Central Park. It was May 15th, and the glorious trees beyond had flourished with green foliage that beamed upward toward the eggshell blue sky. That high up, the beeping chaos of traffic, the cries of angry New Yorkers, didn’t reach the ears, and one was allowed to view the city as though it was a sort of a miniature plaything and not a haven of millions of voices, opinions, backstories and wild history. As Janine had spent her entire upbringing as one of the poorest New Yorkers, a Brooklynite, in fact, she felt her stance on the forty-third floor as though she’d ascended to heaven itself.
Her entire life had changed — approximately twenty-four years before. And she’d never looked back.
“Wow. That breeze is beautiful.” Maxine Aubert stepped into the library and flashed a smile toward Janine. “You picked a perfect day for an engagement party.”
Janine’s heart fluttered as Maxine joined her at the window, which she’d cracked to allow the slightest breeze in. Janine held Maxine’s eyes for a moment as Maxine squeezed her upper arm.
“You look like you’re freaking out a little bit,” Maxine finally said with a laugh.
Janine swept a dark lock of hair around her ear. “You know how it goes with these New York socialites. Trying to impress them has been my life mission for the past twenty years. But they always know that I’m not one of them.”
“Well, mon cherie. Neither am I,” Maxine said. She dropped her head back so that her auburn hair flowed beautifully down her back. Her neck was reminiscent of a swan’s. “But that’s our great con, isn’t it? We grew up in Brooklyn with nothing, and now, we’ve overtaken the kingdom.”
“Just imagine if we told them the kinds of food we always ate as kids,” Janine said. “Ramen noodles were a delicacy, along with the occasional KD entrée.”
“I know. Imagine if they knew you hadn’t tasted the likes of a soufflé until the age of twenty-five!”
Maggie Potter, Janine’s eldest daughter, had recently gotten engaged to Rex Vanderson, a prestigious businessman, certainly a man from the upper-echelon of Manhattan society. This sort of union required a high-caliber engagement party, and Janine had set to work on it immediately after news of their engagement had reached her ears. “Nothing but the best for my Maggie,” had been her constant refrain, as she had arranged everything.
Maggie’s engagement party was set to begin at six-thirty with a cocktail hour, followed by dinner, at one of the most prestigious and beautiful locations in Manhattan— the NoMad Hotel Rooftop. Now, it was just past five in the afternoon, and somehow, it seemed, everything for the party had fallen into place. This left Janine time to dress, have her makeup and hair done, and get over to the party itself.
Since Janine and Maxine had run around Brooklyn together in the ‘80s and ‘90s, there was very little that they didn’t already know about each other. Now, as the light tipped toward sunset and expectation for the night ahead brewed in Janine’s belly, they stripped down to their underwear and helped one another don their evening gowns. Janine’s was dark blue, cut low over her breasts, and it hugged her hips beautifully.
“I’m glad I went on that low-carb diet when I did,” she stated as she tilted herself sideways in the mirror. “I don’t have your French genes, and I could tell that designer wasn’t so sure about me when we first met.”
Maxine buttoned the last of Janine’s dress at the nape of her neck and made a funny sound in her throat. “You always look as sleek as any Parisian woman. The last time we were in Paris, I told you, I heard many women whisper about your fashion sense. They were terribly jealous.”
Janine eyed her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling, antique mirror, which her husband, Jack, had gifted her for her thirty-fifth birthday. Behind her, Maxine upheld her high cheek-boned, French-woman looks, despite having moved to Brooklyn at age ten. Back when they’d been adolescents, prior to Janine meeting the ultra-rich Jack Potter, they hadn’t needed anything or anybody.
“Why don’t we open that champagne while we get ready?” Maxine suggested as she stepped toward her own dress, which hung in Janine’s closet.
Tenderly, Maxine removed the champagne cork — a trick she’d taught Janine so that bubbles weren’t flung across the room. She then poured them two flutes of champagne, lifted her glass, and said, “To the mother of the bride. You’ve worked yourself to death for this party, and I know it will go off without a hitch.”
Janine blushed as she tinged her glass against Maxine’s and sipped. “You’re too kind to me.”
“You know that we have to be honest in all things,” Maxine told her. “I’ll be the first to tell you when your fashion steps over the line.”
“And you absolutely must tell me if I ever dress too young for my age,” Janine said, her eyes widening. “That’s my biggest fear. That I spot something; Maggie or Alyssa are wearing and decide it will look good on me, too. I am not twenty anymore.”
“And thank goodness for that,” Maxine quipped. “I know we say it over and over again, but all the anxiety of our twenties? I wouldn’t go back to that time for any amount of money.”
The doorbell rang. Janine’s housekeeper, who had busied herself preparing the apartment for the night’s after-party, hustled for the door, then arrived at Janine’s room to announce that the makeup and hair people were headed up. Janine had used Chelsea and Connie, a twin-sister duo, for her hair and makeup, for the previous five years. When the two arrived, they greeted both Maxine and Janine like old friends.
“This isn’t just another Manhattan function,” Connie said as she began to prepare Janine’s curls so that they flourished beautifully down her shoulders. “This is your daughter’s engagement party! You must be terribly excited.”
“And terrified,” Janine added. “You wouldn’t believe the things these women will pick apart at parties like this. If you bring out the appetizers at inappropriate times, they’ll chalk up the whole evening as a disaster.”
Chelsea laughed uproariously. “Connie, I don’t think we could ever hack this life.”
“We never thought we’d be here, either,” Maxine affirmed as Chelsea tied her
hair into an intricate up-do. “Just two Brooklyn girls with nothing to do but make trouble.”
“That’s right. I always forget. You girls are one of us,” Connie said. Her tone remained slightly doubtful, as though she couldn’t fully imagine the steps to take between her own life and the one Janine now enjoyed.
“You should have seen her when she met Jack,” Maxine offered brightly, as she extended out her left hand and twirled her wrist so that her rings flashed in the soft light. “What was it you said, Janine? You said you’d met a man who’d changed everything.”
“To be honest, I don’t think he knew quite how poor I was,” Janine said as a blush crept across her cheeks. “I was nineteen, waitressing, of course, and I just happened to stumble across a second-hand Chanel dress at a flea market, which I wore for our first date.”
“He didn’t care what you wore,” Maxine said with a funny arch of her eyebrow. “He just wanted to take it off of you.”
“Maxine!”
Connie and Chelsea erupted with laughter as Janine again eyed herself in the mirror. The conversation continued as Maxine explained her current dating life.
“I was married to a wealthy man myself,” she said. “He died a few years ago — and left me everything.”
“Wow,” Connie marveled. “You must miss him, though.”
“She’s definitely taught me a lot about the current dating scene in Manhattan,” Janine replied. “I just love your stories, Max. You should tell the one about the baseball player.”
“Oh, that darling twenty-five-year-old hunk of a man,” Maxine chirped. “He never had a chance with me, but he sent me box tickets to his little games. With these men, I always play up the French thing. I even lather on the accent a bit more, you know, since I moved here when I was ten, and it really isn’t so noticeable.”
“It’s just slightly there. Like a hint of the music of the French language,” Chelsea affirmed.
“But these men. They must fall head over heels!” Connie cried.
Maxine chuckled. “I have to admit that I’m having a terrific time. Even at forty-three years old.”
“And you’re not slowing down yet,” Janine said.
“I’ll drag you out on the town with me one of these days,” Maxine warned. “Now that Maggie’s engaged, and Alyssa’s been out of the house for a few years, it’s time to inject some life into your Manhattan nights.”
“Jack and I are so settled, and you know I like that about my life,” Janine said, as her heart swelled slightly. “He’s been so busy with work the past year or so, but he promised he would calm down soon so that we can travel more, spend more time together.”
“It’s the secret to a happy marriage,” Chelsea affirmed. “My husband and I make sure we have date night once a week. Sometimes I get so excited about it, especially if I haven’t seen him for a while. I’ll dress up, do my hair, that sort of thing.”
“It’s so important,” Janine agreed. “It’s not that I don’t respect Jack’s career. I do. He’s killed himself for it. But we fell in love for a reason. And I want to remind him that we have a beautiful future ahead of ourselves — into our forties and our fifties and our sixties.”
“That’s beautiful,” Connie and Chelsea said in unison.
When Janine and Maxine finished up their looks for the night, they sipped a final glass of champagne and bid goodbye to Connie and Chelsea, who they called “masters.”
“Thank you for helping us middle-aged women look a little less ragged,” Janine chuckled.
“As if you need any real help with that,” Chelsea said.
When the girls had gone, Janine and Maxine stepped into the kitchen to check on the staff. They had just begun to arrive to prepare for the after-party drinks and cuisine. Janine ironed out the details while Maxine checked her phone. Then, Janine texted her daughters and her husband to make sure everyone was headed to the NoMad Hotel Rooftop.
MAGGIE: Already here, Mom! Alyssa just got here, too.
JACK: On my way.
Janine sent “heart” emojis to all three of her favorite people, her dear family, and then turned her eyes toward Maxine. Throughout their incredibly long friendship, Maxine had never once spoken about having children herself. But each time Janine acknowledged the enormous mountain of love she had for her daughters, she wondered if Maxine stirred in any amount of jealousy.
“What do you think, Max? You ready?”
Maxine’s eyes sparkled. “As ready as I’ll ever be to face those monster socialites.”
“Just remember, that being in their midst means we won,” Janine said with a slight smile.
“If we could only turn back the clock in time and watch the event from that point of view,” Maxine said. “We would have gawked at the cost of all this. No, we would have thought ourselves to be insane.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” Janine said as she swept her hair behind her shoulders.
Maxine reached out to grip Janine’s shoulder. Her lips curved into an O. “Wow. Janine, you look absolutely breathtaking. I just want you to know that.”
Janine’s grin was enormous, the kind she tried to avoid these days so as not to wrinkle up her face. “So do you, Max. So do you.”
“Why do we even care about compliments from men?” Maxine asked as they clacked in their heels toward the closet to gather their coats. “All we should appreciate are kind words from women. It’s not as though any man I flirt with tonight will notice the fine detail of my eyeliner or the beautiful intricacies of your curls.”
“You’re exactly right,” Janine said as she brought her coat over her shoulders. “Jack will probably say something like, ‘Nice dress, babe,’ then carry on whatever conversation he’s in.”
Maxine’s laugh was uproarious. “Men. Who needs them?”
“We really should have just married one another when we had the chance,” Janine jested. “How happy we would be!”
Chapter Two
Janine’s driver stopped the car at the corner of Broadway and idled as several taxis whizzed around them, their drivers honking their horns. Janine and Maxine gathered their purses and eyed the various party-goers as they scuttled from their taxis and headed toward the entrance of the hotel. There was Marcia Collingsworth, who’d married a rich newspaperman only a few years prior to his death, and had spent the majority of the next decade sleeping with as many of his rich friends as she could; then, there were several of Jack’s business associates and dear childhood friends, all of whom had more money than God.
“Oh, good. There’s Alyssa,” Janine said as her driver opened the door and helped her out onto the curb.
“Wow. That dress she has on!” Maxine said approvingly, just as Alyssa whipped around, allowing her lavender gown to sweep in a beautiful parabola just above her ankles.
Alyssa was twenty-two years old, and just a week before had walked across the stage as a Yale Graduate. She was a beautiful creature, nearly a twin to Maggie, with dark tresses that curled beautifully down her back and a perfect figure. Maxine often reminded Janine that her daughters were the spitting image of their mother, which was definitely true, even as it grew more and more difficult for Janine to remember herself like that.
“Mom!” Alyssa cried. She rushed toward her, bringing along a wave of perfume, then dotted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “You look absolutely stunning. As do you, Maxine.”
“There she is. The Yale graduate.” Maxine beamed. In Janine’s eyes, Maxine had been a kind of stand-in aunt for the girls over the years. She had even gone so far as to take Alyssa out for her twenty-first birthday the previous year when Janine had been sick with the flu. “I’m terribly sorry I missed the ceremony.”
“Oh, it was boring as ever,” Alyssa said as she whipped a hand back and forth. “Just a bunch of caps, gowns, and bad speeches.”
“Your mom and I never graduated from college, so these achievements are impressive, kiddo,” Maxine said as she gave Janine a side-eyed glance.
; Maxine had told Janine frequently, over the years, to remind her daughters just how far she’d come — that her background hadn’t supplied her every opportunity in the world. Maggie and Alyssa were set for life, as though they’d been born Manhattan royalty.
“I know that,” Alyssa said softly. “I count my blessings every day for my education.”
“Let’s get inside, shall we?” Janine said as she squeezed her best friend’s hand in thanks. “After all this planning, I think it’s finally time to enjoy ourselves.”
They entered the swanky hotel, were greeted with importance, and ushered upstairs. Once on the rooftop, Janine feasted her eyes on the beautiful view before her—the perfect decor of the long tables, the large floor candles and fairy lights that hung everywhere, giving the room a certain ambiance. The gorgeous Manhattan guests were dressed to the nines, and they all stood around with cocktails in their hands, eating small snacks and speaking to one another earnestly, as though they cared what the other said. Everything seemed like it was picture-perfect, cut straight out of a magazine, and Janine knew, someday soon, this very view of her party would stretch across the pages of many magazines. When the Potters threw parties in Manhattan, the world knew about them.
This was all thanks to her immaculate party-planning capabilities. She was quite proud, to say the least.
“Darling!” One of her friends, Gwyneth, stepped out from another conversation. She was a petite little thing, and her designer-made dress hung from her like strange curtains. She stepped toward Janine with big doe eyes and a fake smile as she cried, “This is really just so splendid, isn’t it? Oh, Maxine, you’ll have to help me. What is it the French would call something like this? Encroyable?”
Maxine seemed on the verge of rolling her eyes yet stopped herself at the last moment. “Perhaps we’d say ‘relou.’”
“Relou...” Gwyneth formed the word across her tongue and furrowed her brow. “It really is such a beautiful language, isn’t it?”
Janine made a mental note to ask Maxine what that actually meant in French as Gwyneth began to pepper her with information regarding her own daughter and her recent graduation from Princeton. In the meantime, Alyssa stepped away to find the bride, who it seemed, was located toward the far end of the rooftop, with Rex’s arm flung around her lower back. Maggie seemed to be in the middle of telling an elaborate story; Janine could just sense it, the way her eldest daughter’s eyes sparkled.
Return to Me Page 1
