Page 26 of Always

When she took the elevator up to her floor, the doors opened on Stella, who was waiting to go down.

“Where have you been?” Stella asked, noting something suspicious in the brightness of Anika’s face.

“I’ve been out,” Anika said, “with Marco Moretti.”

Without waiting to hear her sister’s reply, Anika swept past her into the apartment.

* * *

12

Saturday morning, Marco arrived promptly at Anika’s door to take her out running.

Knowing that Marco was coming, both Stella and Bennet had bestirred themselves earlier than usual. Stella was dressed in silk pajamas and a dressing gown bought specifically for the occasion. Bennet prepared by criticizing Stella’s selection of bagels and pastries and bemoaning the mediocrity of the coffee made by their espresso machine, which doubtless could not compare to that which Marco had drunk daily in Italy.

Marco graciously accepted the substandard americano Bennet offered him, drinking it down without any sign of disappointment. Still, tension lingered between Marco and Bennet.

Anika was aware from her father’s complaints that Marco was indeed taking an active role in the management of Bennet Knight. He had fired a number of employees, changed the line-up for Fashion Week, and most egregious of all, trashed the old movie theater-style marquee that had headed the flagship store for twenty years, replacing it with modern signage. Bennet had not been able to control his temper when he had walked up to his store to find such a drastic change enacted without his foreknowledge or consent.

The argument that followed had been contained in Marco’s office, so no one was sure what had been said, but Anika noted that her father seemed cowed by Marco to a degree she had never before witnessed. Bennet fussed about the kitchen with a queer mix of resentment and nervousness, showing an obsequiousness completely at odds with his usual nature.

Stella seemed oblivious to all this. She lolled about, encouraging her robe to slip off her bare shoulders, quizzing Marco on all the places he’d been to eat in New York. She batted her lashes, well coated with mascara. Knowing how long it took Stella to do her makeup, Anika shuddered to think how early she must have set her alarm that morning.

After a polite interval of conversation, Marco said, “Thanks so much for the coffee. We’d better head out before it gets too hot.”

“Are you running outside?” Stella asked in amazement.

“Where did you think we were running?” Anika said.

“I have no idea.”

“There’s plenty of trails in the park,” Anika said.

“Of course,” Stella said, loftily, but Anika was struck with the distinct suspicion that despite their proximity, Stella had never actually set foot in Central Park.

“Come on,” Marco said, cheekily tugging on the hem of Anika’s tank top.

As she followed him into the elevator, Anika noted how trim and fit Marco looked in his shorts and lightweight athletic shirt. His tan skin looked glowing and healthy against the white fabric, which all seemed crisp and new, down to the sneakers that might have come out of the box that morning. Marco had said that he loved to run, but maybe he hadn’t bought much clothing with him from Italy and had indeed purchased his outfit that week.

They stretched briefly at the gates of the park, then took off at a jog down the shaded path. At their easy pace Anika ran lightly, able to chat at the same time. But she noticed Marco immediately beginning to puff and flag, though they had hardly started. Gamely he tried to keep up with her, but his responses to her conversation became briefer and briefer. After only a mile or two, he proposed they stop to admire the view from the nearest bridge.

Marco was flushed. He tried to lean casually on the rail, pretending that he wasn’t panting hard.

“You’re in incredible shape!” he complimented her.

“Thanks,” Anika said. “Running is my stress-reliever. It’s what allows me to cope with—well, everything.”

“You must have to run a marathon every time you’re done chatting with Stella,” Marco said.

Anika couldn’t help laughing.

“You can’t deny it,” Marco said, laughing as well. “You want to, because you’re kind, and loyal to her. God knows why.”

“She is my sister,” Anika said.

“I wouldn’t believe it if she didn’t look a bit like you,” Marco said. “I can’t imagine two people more different. Has she always been like that?”

“Mostly,” Anika admitted. “There were times when she was almost a friend. When I was very little, she liked to pick out my clothes for me and style my hair. But then my father would compliment me, not her for doing it, and it made her so angry. She wanted his approval. Maybe if he gave it more often, she would be happier.”

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