Page 5 of Always

“I can take the train,” Anika said, “I know you want to get home to your daughter.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Patrick said, loading Anika’s duffel bag in the trunk of the car.

Gently and firmly, he took her arm, steering her into the back seat.

Anika turned her face to the window so he wouldn’t see the tears running down her cheeks. She knew he would think it was her sadness having a last look at the house, but really it was his obvious pity that made her cry.

* * *

3

There wasn’t much for Anika to do to get settled in the penthouse. As she had expected, her father and sister hadn’t bothered to order any food for the kitchen—though the liquor cabinet had been well stocked—and there was a lot of mess in the main living areas as the housekeeper wasn’t coming until Friday.

There was no need for her to select her own room. Bennet and Stella had kindly filled the four largest with their boxes, leaving the smallest and most distant for Anika. This type of slight was too common to be unexpected. In truth, Anika preferred the quiet of that room, and the pretty blue wallpaper that had escaped Stella’s improving hand.

Her bedroom had its own bathroom, a reasonable-sized closet, and a view. Not of Central Park of course—that side had been claimed by Bennet after a bitter argument with Stella. He declared it utterly integral to his creative process that both his bedroom and office look out over the park.

Anika’s one large window faced the Art Deco building next to theirs, festooned with statuary: a winged woman, several eagles, and a monumental helmeted head. When night fell, the sunset colored the white stone every shade of scarlet, pink, and orange. Having majored in Art History, Anika found this quite as lovely to look at as lawns and treetops.

Anika had visited the apartment before, but never actually lived there. It was odd to be in such close quarters with her father and sister. In the massive space of the Hamptons estate, they were more like neighbors than roommates. Here they crossed paths too closely in the hallways in their dressing gowns, and actually bumped into each other in the kitchen at the espresso machine. Bennet played his music so loudly that Stella hammered on her wall with a shoe, and both Bennet and Stella were infuriated with Anika when her alarm woke them in the morning.

Within a week, Anika wondered if it was time to get her own apartment. She had lived in the Hamptons house so long out of a desire to feel close to her mother, but she actually didn’t spend much time with Bennet and Stella, and she doubted they would put up resistance to the idea of her moving out. In fact, Stella had already hinted that if their adjoining wall was removed, Anika’s room would make a convenient walk-in closet.

She didn’t have time to find a new place at the moment, however, as things were very busy at work.

The Red Line office was located a block from the main Bennet Knight building in the Garment District. It was a small space, a little drab, but convenient to the subway station. Anika had four staff members working under her: Angela Davis in the satellite office, and then Calvin Peterson and Gwen and Hannah Fletchley in the main office.

Calvin was an irritable and efficient former student who had stayed with them four years past the end of his internship. He was tall and prematurely balding, with glasses and a penchant for striped shirts. When the shirts coincided with scarf weather, he looked likeWhere’s Waldo.

Gwen and Hannah were sisters. In their early twenties, they had the requisite idealism to work at a non-profit. Gwen, the older by a year, was a slightly sarcastic brunette with hipster glasses and a few well-placed piercings. She balanced the books and handled the HR duties. Hannah—strawberry-blonde, daintily feminine, and relentlessly cheerful—was in charge of sifting through applications to select students for their program. They both made Anika feel about a hundred years old.

Calvin surprised Anika by offering to help her clear the piles of paper and random oddments out of her old office. The reason for his cooperation was soon clear—he had months of resentments against the Fletchley girls to air, and apparently hoped to enlist her against the attacks of Gwen and Hannah, who were always ganging up on him on matters like the Red Line website and what kind of coffee should be stocked in the break room.

“You need to tell them that emojis are not an acceptable part of website copy,” Calvin complained as they carried stacks of old newsletters out to the recycling bin. “And also maybe you could make some kind of rule that only six or seven squirts of body spray are allowed per day, because Hannah is reapplying literally every time she comes back from the bathroom, which considering the amount of Red Bull she drinks, is a lot of times.”

Anika had already been inveigled by the sisters to please tell Calvin to stop posting gloomy statistics about education levels amongst the prison population on the weekly blog, and also to tell him that absolutely, under no circumstances, should oneeverreheat fish in the communal microwave.

Anika did her best to smooth over everyone’s irritations, promising to order lunch for them all on what Gwen called “Fishy Fridays” and placing a small screen of plants between Hannah and Calvin’s desks to absorb the brunt of the chemical warfare.

The website issues would have to wait—they needed to get to work on their plans for the benefit gala. They all spent a few hours together in the conference room, brainstorming themes.

Calvin suggested “Superheroes” or “Star Trek,” but was shouted down by Gwen and Hannah. Gwen wanted something grand—“Like the Met Gala,” she said. “They did a Catholic theme last year and everyone wore brocades, and gold, and those big pope hats.”

“Not religion!” Calvin complained. “That’s offensive to me, as an atheist.”

“Oh, are you an atheist?” Gwen said. “I must have forgotten the eight hundred other times you mentioned that.”

“It’s for education,” Hannah said. “What about school-themed, like with apple martinis and waitresses in plaid skirts and school desks where you check in...”

“That might not be quite fancy enough,” Anika said gently.

Calvin suggested an “Under the Sea” theme, “Very kitschy, like in Back to the Future.”

To prove her fanciness, Hannah advocated for a theme of “Gold” or “Diamonds,” but Anika pointed out that might not be in the best taste considering the poverty of most of their students.

A Night in China?

Too racist.

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