This story picks up about a year after the last chapter, and continues with one of my favorite characters, Amberle. This installment is told entirely from her perspective.
It features several characters from some of my other work, and I'll leave it to you to find them.
Please send me any comments or feedback you have, and I will try not to be so long in between chapters.
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I shouldn't have been surprised. But I was.
The signs were all there. I knew something was up. Nichole was up to her eyeballs in work. What's new, right?
She's that combination of workaholic and control freak that makes people very successful. And gives them heart attacks before they turn fifty. Her work ethic is admirable for its consistency and integrity. It's also maddening because it can be consuming. And not in the good way.
But I knew that when I decided I wanted her in my life.
I don't spend my waking hours pining away for her or waiting for her to come home and so I can ask how her day went. One thing I've learned in my retirement is that people need to stay busy, and that goes for both of us.
So I picked up some hobbies. I volunteer at charities which I support with my time and energy. I belong to a book club (which actually discusses the books, instead of just drinking and gossiping—we do that, too). I dote on my brother's kids and Nichole's nieces and nephews.
For the past year or so, I've been splitting my time between her apartment in New York and my house at the beach. Sometimes Nichole comes home with me, sometimes she doesn't. The two of us travel a lot. Sometimes with our kids, and sometimes it's just the two of us. We call or Facetime every night when we're not together.
When it's just us, she puts her phone down. She forces my homebody to go out in the world. I take her to quiet places where everyone is not vying for her attention or making noise. We hold hands and cuddle just to be close to one another.
The days are pretty good.
So when Nichole took all that and turned my life on its side, I was shocked.
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Neither of us have ever been ones for grand gestures. I don't think on that scale. Nichole is a big-city girl who isn't impressed by much.
I generally don't like New York in the winter. I'm a southerner, after all. I'll take a Christmas in shorts and sandals over snowplows and freezing my ass off any time.
But because of some business Nichole couldn't get away from, I found myself flying into JFK on Valentine's Day.
Have I mentioned how much I hate the cold? And by "cold", I mean anything under 60 degrees.
"Good afternoon, Miz Amberle." The young man who met me as I exited the security area was in his early 20s. He had a thick Bronx accent, and is the nicest kid you'll ever meet. I think he was our doorman Paulie's nephew or second cousin or something. He took my carry-on bag and led me out of the terminal to the waiting car.
"How are you doing, Benny?" No one has ever told me his actual name or what his mother calls him, but I know for a fact that it's not Benjamin. That's how he introduced himself and that's how everyone refers to him. He has a crush on Maureen. He was crestfallen to learn she's been seeing a guy at college. But she's still sweet to him, just like everyone else she meets.
I got in on the passenger's side as he drove into Manhattan. As someone who grew up in a small town, city driving is something I really try to avoid. Nichole says that every driver in New York is the same brand of crazy, but that's not me. So I'm happy to let other people handle all of that for me.
After a little while, we pulled up to Nichole's building . . . er, our home . . . and I got out as Paulie opened the door.
"Welcome back," he said with a wide, friendly smile. As always, his uniform was immaculate. He stood up straight and radiated a commanding presence that promised unmitigated friendship, but also made everyone around him aware that he wouldn't take any shit. Benny retrieved my bag from the trunk. "Miz Galloway is in her office and would like you to meet her there. We'll take your things up to your room."
"Thank you, Paulie." A long time ago, I stopped trying to tip him. He says Nichole pays him enough already. He'll take money from other people, but I think he's genuinely insulted when I try to give him money just for doing his job. Instead, I gently patted him on the arm as I passed by. He took my coat and warmly returned my smile and beamed.
I took the grand marble stairs in the lobby up to the mezzanine level, past the storefronts and restaurants to a nondescript glass door which led to Nichole's business office.
"Good morning, Miss Amberle," the receptionist looked up from her computer. I hate to be called "Miss" or "ma'am" but everyone on the staff does anyway, despite my insistence that things were otherwise. And they won't let me address them by anything other than their first names. "She's expecting you."
"Thank you, Tina," I paused for just a moment at her desk, craning my neck to see through the window on the door into Nichole's office. "Do you know what this is about?"
"You'll like it." Notice she didn't answer my question. Her face was a blank stone wall.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed the door open.
Nichole sat at the small conference table along with a woman and a man. I didn't recognize either. All three were dressed for a formal business meeting. Meanwhile, I was in a sweater dress, leggings and I looked like a slovenly American tourist who just got off a plane. At least I had washed my hair the night before.
They stood when I entered.
Nichole gave me a familiar—if business-like—hug and kiss. The other two reached out to shake my hand as my girlfriend introduced them.
"This is Erica Mendoza and Jim Tanaka." Nichole motioned to the table and the four of us sat down. She paused for just a second, as if to gather her thoughts. The table was covered with binders, envelopes and folders. When she looked up at me, there was a flash in her eyes. Something I don't recall ever seeing in her before. Apprehension? No . . . fear.
I gave her a nervous smile, wondering where this was going.
"You know that building on the corner of Sixty-Seventh and Columbus? It went on the market a couple of weeks ago, and we bought it."
My eyes got wide.
"Well . . . we're going to buy it," Nichole fidgeted for a second. "I'm still trying to finalize the details of the financing, but we're close. But the bottom line is that the seller needs to offload some debt . . . and he doesn't want to sell to any of the big corporate landlords. So . . . I, uh . . . I made a move without asking you first."
"You don't have to ask me anything," I reached out and took her shaking hand. "You're the real estate mogul, not me."
She took another deep breath before continuing. "I know you don't like how much I work as it is. I can see the gears turning in your head, sweetheart. You're wondering where this leaves 'us'. And I understand that."
Truthfully, that was the first thing that ran through my mind at the mention of Nichole expanding her small financial empire.
"So luckily, I think this comes with a built-in solution." Nichole took a drink of her diet soda to clear her palate. "Erica is the general manager in our new building, and Jim is the chief financial officer. Where we're eighty percent residential management and 20 percent commercial businesses; this property is about fifty-fifty. They're going to take over the day-to-day operations of both buildings."
"Are you going to let them?" I laughed nervously in spite of myself.
"Yes," the nervous look she shot me made my heart skip a beat. I could see how hard this was for her. To give up control. But she was trying her damndest, which I appreciated. "I need to be less micro-manager, and more CEO."
The rest of the meeting was Erica and Jim generally describing their duties and what they envisioned for Nichole's business. They tried to explain it in terms a lay person could understand, but it went clear over my head, just as any financial discussions I had about McKayla's business decisions used to.
Thankfully, Nichole didn't try to overload me, and we stayed only for a few minutes longer before the meeting was dismissed.
"This calls for a celebration," she took my hand and led me towards the elevator and up to our floor. We occupy almost half of the fourth floor now, having taken over another apartment when the residents moved out. We knocked out part of the wall, adjoining the spaces and giving us more room for our family to spread out. The trade-off for the extra space was losing some rental income at Upper West Side rates, but Maureen basically had her own space in our New York home if she wanted it.
I pressed my hand against the biometric pad next to the door. It read my fingerprints and the lock clicked open. My small suitcase was in the foyer. I pulled on the handle as Nichole unlocked the inner door.
The scent of vanilla candles filled our apartment. They were everywhere.
Nichole took my hand and walked me over to the sitting area by the couch. White lace drapes covered the windows, bathing the living room in soft light. Her palms were sweating.
