Cabin Fever (2 page)

I hang up and slide my phone into my pocket. Finally, my adventure is feeling like a good decision and not a complete disaster.

Chapter Two

WHEN I PULL UP IN front of Trump Towers at six o’clock on Friday night, I don’t know what to expect. When Leah comes striding over to my window wearing a thick, tailored wool coat with a baby in a snowsuit on her hip, I’m too stunned to speak. She looks great. And a baby? Whoa.

I’ve never seen her dressed like she is now, and her hair is amazing. And if she had that baby herself and not through adoption or a surrogate, she’s managed to already lose all the pregnancy weight. She can’t be more than a size eight.

I cannot wait to hear what’s happened in her life; clearly her news is going to be much better than mine, and it couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl. Just realizing that makes me the slightest bit cheerful. I roll down my window, letting in a blast of freezing cold air.

“Hey! You made it!” she exclaims, her breath throwing out puffs of cold-smoke. “Do you want to park in the garage? They have some guest spaces. We can get someone to help you bring your things in.” She looks in the back window of my car. “Wow, you have a lot of boxes.” Grinning at me, she leans in and we exchange a quick kiss of greeting. Her lips are freezing cold on my heater-warmed cheek.

“You have a baby,” I say, finally finding my voice.

“Oh, this isn’t my baby. I’m just borrowing her.” She laughs. “Just pull around the block there, and you’ll see the entrance to the garage. I’d ride with you but you don’t have a carseat.”

“Okay.” I shift the car back into Drive, acting like borrowing a baby is a totally natural thing that people do.
 
“Just over there?” I point to the next block.

“Yep. Grab a guest spot. Tell them you’re with James Oliver.”

“Okee dokee.” I roll up the window, turn up my heater to full blast, and pull forward off the curb, wary of all the cabs driving like maniacs around me. Everything in Manhattan goes faster than anywhere else. It’s making me nervous already. The potential ice on the roads is not helping. Winter coming early did not figure into my plans.

The garage is huge, and much quieter than the main street where everyone has decided that horns are how cars speak to one another and that they should be carrying on conversations all the time. I crack my window open a couple inches when an older man in a uniform approaches me.

“I’m with James Oliver. I’m supposed to park in a guest spot.”

He points with a white-gloved hand. “Just over there, Miss.”

I smile politely and roll my window up as I follow his instructions. I’m just pulling into the generous space when Leah shows up at my door again. I can hear her through my closed window, her voice slightly muffled.

“Yaaaay! Look, Cassie, my best friend Sarah is here for a visit!”

Guilt twangs my heartstrings. She still considers me her best friend after I ignored her for almost two years? Whatever happy glow I had coming in here is snuffed out with the realization that I’m a superjerk. After my latest relationship experience, I learned that friendships — real friendships — are one of the most precious things in the world. I haven’t valued Leah like I should have, but that’s going to change as of right now.

I look up at her and grin as I push the door open. “Yay! I’m so happy to be here!”

Leah moves back so I can get out, but as soon as I’m free of my car, she leaps forward, enveloping me in a big hug. The baby gets squished right in with me.

“Ooooo, you look great,” she says. “Have you aged backwards? That’s not fair.”

I pat her on the back. “No, believe me, I’ve aged. It’s just my high school ponytail look throwing you off.”

She pulls back and grins. “It looks good on you.” She looks at my passenger seat. “Better grab that coat. It’s colder than a witch’s boob out here.”

I laugh, reaching in to grab my jacket, a five-year-old staple from my wardrobe that’s not nearly as fancy as hers appears to be. “Same old Leah.”

“My address has changed but that’s about it.”

I shut the door and lock it, grabbing my purse and an overnight bag out of the backseat. “Your clothes have changed too.” We start walking towards a door, Leah in the lead. “What happened to my flower child buddy?”

“Oh, she’s still here, believe me.” She taps in a number on a keypad and opens the door for me to walk through. “But she’s hidden under layers of warm wool because I do
not
like this early winter crap one bit.” She shudders for effect as I walk past her.

She lets the door shut and leads me down a hallway and into another door that brings us to a bank of elevators. I can see the giant lobby of Trump Towers beyond.

“So, you really live in Trump Towers, eh?”

She puts a key into a slot on the bank of buttons and then presses the thirty-five. “Yep. For now.”

I nod, waiting for the rest of her story.

“I’m not sure if we’re going to stay in here though or move somewhere else.”

“We meaning you and James Oliver?” I can’t keep the grin off my face.

“That’s him. That’s my Boo.” She grins. “We met in the craziest way. I’ll tell you all about it when we get settled in.”

“Will I be meeting him right now?” I wish I’d done something with my hair this afternoon, but I was so anxious to get here before it got too dark that I just threw it up in a rubber band again.

“No, he’s at work. But he’ll be home later.”

As we exit the elevator, the baby sneezes.

“Oh, poor baby,” Leah croons, “do you have a stuffy nose? Aunty Leah will wipe it off for you in just a second. Almost home…”

Aunty Leah? Does this mean she’s married? I can’t see her left hand from where I am.
Damn
. I’m seriously out of her loop. Superjerk strikes again. She didn’t even invite me to the wedding. I suppose it’s what I deserve.

“Hold her for me for a sec,” Leah says, turning around and dumping the baby into my arms.

I barely have time to drop my bag and get a hold of her when Leah lets go to unlock the door.

“Stupid key. I hate this thing.” She wrestles with the mechanism for a few seconds before it finally gives in. She throws the door open wide and grins. “Ta daa! Condo sweet condo.” She takes the baby from me and I grab the bag at my feet and follow her in.

I thought after seeing Leah dressed in Burberry and carrying a baby I would be prepared for anything, but I was wrong.

“Whoa,” I say as I slowly enter the condo and my eyes roam the colorful space.

“Told ya,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m still a flower child at heart.”

Chapter Three

THE ENTIRE ROOM IS PAINTED a light robin’s egg blue, the walls, the moldings, the ceiling,
everything
. None of the furniture matches, but it all somehow works. There’s hot pink, zebra print and marine-blue polka dots on the armchairs and couch. Silk pillows war with batik covered ones and yet they both end up winning. There’s a fireplace mantel, but inside it is a television. Artwork on the walls is a mix of multi-media pieces, Native American art, and if I’m not mistaken, a Renoir. I think Leah must have married a Bohemian rock star. I cannot wait to hear her story and meet this James Oliver guy. I have the strangest urge to Google him, but I won’t. I don’t want to be too obvious. I can be cool in the presence of a celebrity. I think.

“You can put your things in this room,” she says, leading me into a bedroom that’s clearly designed for a child. There’s a crib in the corner and stuffed animals covering every surface. A changing table is set up on top of a dresser and the closet door is open to reveal outfits of every color.

“Oh, no, this is your baby’s room, I can’t stay here.”

“Not yet it’s not. But don’t worry, Cassie doesn’t mind sharing.” She puts the baby in the crib, sitting her down in the center of it. “Keep an eye on her for me while I put the kettle on, would you? We can have some tea while we catch up.” She leaves the room before I have time to reply.

The baby watches her go, her expression going concerned.

Worried she’s going to start crying, I leave my bags on the bed and grab a stuffed animal off the shelf, shaking at her a little as I approach. “Look! It’s an elephant.”

She stops frowning and stares at me, her big blue eyes fringed with dark lashes so thick they look almost fake. Her hair is blonde and curls around her head in gentle waves. She reaches for the animal and pulls it away from me, never taking her eyes off mine. She’s suspicious of my motives, I can tell. I don’t have much experience with babies, but this particular girl is very expressive.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I won’t take your room from you. It’s only temporary.”

Hearing myself say it, I realize how true it is. I can’t paint here. This place is pristine, and I highly doubt this condo has a room with enough light for me to work in. And even if they did have one, I can’t imagine they’d want me in there with my acrylics. Imagining myself in a corner of Leah’s studio apartment was fine, but here? No. It just feels wrong. Intrusive.

I hate that I’m already chickening out on my plan. It’s so depressing to think I’m back to square one without a clear future in sight. Leah was my last hope.

“Tea’s on!” says Leah from the other room. “Could you bring Cassie with you?”

Lifting the baby from the crib, I smile to keep the little girl from worrying again. She looks so serious as she descends to my hip, still holding the elephant against her.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me. I’m Sarah. I won’t hurt you. I love babies.”

Cassie shoves the elephant up into my face, squishing my nose sideways.

“Oh, thank you.” I lean away from it so I can see my way into the other room.

She keeps pushing. By the time I’m in the kitchen at the small table set with tea and cookies, I’m halfway to doing a backbend.

“Cassie, stop that,” Leah says, taking the elephant out of my face. “Sharing is nice, but over-sharing isn’t. Remember? I told you that already about fifty times.”

Cassie nearly does a head dive trying to retrieve the elephant from Leah’s hands. I hold onto her with an iron grip when I feel her slipping out of my arms.

“In the highchair first,” Leah says, talking to Cassie, “then the elephant. Come on.” She takes the baby from me and puts her in the chair, trapping her in with a clipped-on tray. “There we go,” she says, breathing out a sigh of relief. Her gaze shifts to me. “Have a seat and we can chat while we stuff ourselves with cookies.”

I lower myself into the seat opposite her. Cassie is between us, to my left. Leah spills a few Cheerios on the baby’s tray and then busies herself with pouring us tea out of a gorgeous teapot that has a ceramic bird on top of it. She’s too busy to notice me staring at her clothing.

Never have I seen Leah looking so sharp, so put together, so … so …
rich
. There’s no other word for it. That outfit had to cost more than her old studio rent.

“So, what brings you to Manhattan?” she asks, winking at me.

It’s not cold in here, but I feel like I’m about to start shaking. I squeeze my hands together between my legs, the denim seams pressing into my skin. “Change. A need for change, I guess you could say.”

“You were living in the city before, right? Down there in Boston? That doesn’t sound like much of a change.”

“Yeah, I was, but … yeah.” I sigh. Not having a plan sounded bold and exciting a few weeks ago. Now it just feels irresponsible and stupid.

“At loose ends, is that it?” She sits down and takes a cookie from the plate in front of us. “I know how you feel.”

My eyebrows go up. “You’re at loose ends?”

“No, not now. But I was.” She grins.

The happiness evident in that grin finally calms me down. Who cares about my life? I want to know about hers.

“So what’s the deal, woman?” I ask. “Last time I saw you, you were living in a hole in the wall, barely making ends meet.”

“I know,” she says, looking off into the distance. “Remember that?” She turns her attention back to me. “After I saw you, I moved to another hole in the wall. That place
really
sucked. I got evicted.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if Boo hadn’t come around.”

“Who is this Boo person, anyway?” I look behind me at the living room. “Is he a rock star or something?”

She looks up at me surprised and then starts laughing. “Are you kidding me? James Oliver a rock star? That’ll be the day.” She snorts and then crunches away on her cookie. “No, James is a plastic surgeon. He’s about as stick in the mud as a guy can get.”

I gesture towards the other room. “So what’s all this?”

“What? That?” She points to the living room.

“Yeah.”

“That’s all me.”

I twist around in my seat so I can take it all in. “Really? Because it’s fabulous. Really, really cool. I love it.”

“You should have seen it before. I think I have a picture.” She gets up and leaves me with the baby, who is very carefully picking up one Cheerio at a time and eating them. She eyes me with a serious expression, her little arm moving like it’s in slow motion. She’s a very precise child.

“Here.” Leah comes back in the room and hands me a framed photograph. “That’s James and his sister Jana, and you can see the living room in the background.”

The difference is shocking. The old decor reminds me of a hotel room — a very expensive one on a private island somewhere. A bit too sterile, though. Definitely nothing like it looks now. And James? Oh my goodness gracious. He’s hot. Definitely not the type that Leah ever went for before. He must really be special, because I know for a fact it’s not his money that got Leah going for him. She was always kind of an anti-money person.

“It’s very … white,” I say, trying not to offend whoever decorated before Leah.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

I hold it up against the background of the newly decorated room. “The difference is like night and day.”

“When James asked me to move in, I started redecorating pretty much right away. I couldn’t take all that white and cream. I felt like I was living inside a carton of milk. It was depressing as hell. It really harshed my mellow.”