Page 85 of Nerdelicious
They’re holding up signs. Scarlett’s readsWelcome Home and Prosperwith the Vulcan hand sign drawn next to it. Dad’s makes me laugh out loud:Fred, I am your father. There’s another one, but Emma swings it toward Ava’s head right as I’m trying to read it.
I wave and run toward them, and then I’m surrounded by family and friends.
“I missed all of you,” I say between hugs and cheek kisses.
I breathe in my mother’s lemony scent. It is good to be home.
This time, when my eyes blur, I can’t help but smile, too.
Apartment hunting in New York City is like trying to defeat the White Walkers blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back. I spend a few days searching ads and listings before I find something larger than a closet without twenty percent broker fees.
And I don’t even find it myself.
My phone rings in the morning, a week after moving back. I’m in my old bedroom, moping around like a scrub, un-showered, unhappy, reveling in misery, but trying nonetheless.
“I emailed you a number and address. Call it and tell them Sophia sent you.”
“Hi Grace, it’s so nice to hear from you.”
She sighs.
“Stop rolling your eyes at me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You always sigh when you’re rolling your eyes at me.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Fine.”
I grab my laptop from where I left it on my nightstand and pull up my email. “So what’s this number you want me to call?”
“I found an apartment for you, it’s one subway ride to your work, and it’s in Manhattan. There are no broker fees, it’s rent controlled, and it’s a thousand square feet and in your budget.”
“Grace... you didn’t kill someone, did you?”
“No.” She laughs and my heart squeezes a little. “I did a little digging. For me, this was nothing. But it’s going be snapped up soon. You need to call them today.”
“I will. Assuming this isn’t some elaborate trick because you want me to come back to Blue Falls and strangle you.”
She chuckles. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ll call you every day.”
Tapping in the background. She’s on her computer, even now. “Not necessary. Email me.”
“Why? So you can hack my accounts?”
She groans. “I’d only do things that were nice.”
“I know.”
She blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say goodbye.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’m sad, too. It’s okay to be sad, but I’ll always be your friend. And I’ll always be a phone call or plane ride away.”
We hang up and I call the number in her email, rattling off the address I’m inquiring about when someone answers.
There’s a long pause. “We haven’t even listed that property yet.”
