Katwalk (10 page)

Once back at the apartment, Katrina changed into her pajamas, then headed to the bathroom to perform her nightly routine. When she was done, she sat down in front of her laptop to check her e-mail. Her mother had forwarded the names of two acquaintances she wanted Katrina to contact as part of her job search, along with a suggestion to “act quickly so they know you’re serious and not just gallivanting around New York.”

She thought about sending the e-mails right away, then stopped herself and logged off.

Sh
e’d
do it tomorrow.

Just as she was climbing into bed, she heard her phone chime from the kitchen, where sh
e’d
plugged it in to charge overnight. She plodded into the kitchen to pick it up. It was a text from a number she didn’t recognize.

It was really nice to meet you tonight.

Chapter Five

“Hey, Katrina, how’s life in the big city?”

“Actually, so far—”

“Before you answer that,” Deb said, “I’m about to head in to our Friday-morning staff meeting, so you have about five minutes to fill me in. If it were anyone but you, I wouldn’t have picked up.”

“Okay, I’ll try to talk fast. So far
. . .
I must say
. . .
it’s been really fun.”

“For real?”

“For real!” Katrina smiled into the phone.

“So no meltdown?”

“No meltdown. I’m taking a walk in Central Park right now.
Central Park.
How cool is that?”

“Oh man, I’m so jealous. Right now I’m in a
cube
.”

“It’s so beautiful here, Deb. The air is crisp and clear, just like in the movies. It’s like this morning fall decided to show up, grab a microphone, and announce to the whole city that it was taking over.”

“Ah, fall in New York City. I can only imagine how pretty that must be.”

“It’s breathtaking, Deb. I can’t wait for the leaves to start turning.”

“You should see
me
turning right now—as in green with envy. How’s the apartment?”

“It’s perfect. My parents wouldn’t approve of the dusty exterior, but the building’s a classic brownstone, and in a pretty good location. It’s like any minute I expect the camera crew to show up and start filming.”

“I’m a darker shade of green now.”

“And, perhaps best of all, the apartment itself is extremely clean.”

Deb laughed. “Hallelujah! Yo
u’d
freak if it were anything less than spotless. Is it tiny? I’ve heard New York apartments are like matchboxes.”

“It’s not Buckingham Palace, but it’s plenty big just for me. I hate seeing what should be
your bedroom
sitting there across the hall empty though. It makes me sad.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I know I got what I wanted by staying here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t totally wish I were there with you right now.”

“Are you still going to come visit?”

“Prognosis undetermined. It all depends on these new accounts I’ve been chasing. If they come through, my workload is going to be off the charts.”

“So for you to come out here, I have to hope you
don’t
get the accounts?”

“Exactly.”

Katrina kicked a pebble and frowned. “That doesn’t make me feel like a very good friend.”

“Please. You’re a great friend. So what have you been doing? Have you already been to the Empire State Building? Touristy as it may be, I’m dying to go there.”

“Not yet. Except for walking through Central Park, I haven’t done anything really touristy yet. I’ve sort of been getting my feet wet, just exploring the neighborhood. Believe me, compared to Mountain View, even the ordinary city streets here are plenty exciting. Yesterday I saw a man walking down the street with a parrot perched right on his shoulder. A
parrot
.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to the touristy stuff soon enough. I know you must have a huge list of things to see and do. In fact, I bet you have it with you right now.”

Katrina tapped her palm against her pocket. “Oh yes, of course. I’ve got my list, but to be honest, I think I could spend entire days just wandering around aimlessly, not even looking at it.”

“Really? That’s so unlike you.”

“I know, isn’t it? But it’s been great exploring the nooks and crannies. There are indie boutiques, tiny bodegas, and hip coffee bars on pretty much every block, and don’t even get me started on all the art galleries. And then, of course, there are the
people
, who are out on the streets all the time and are from every corner of the world, constantly chattering away in a million languages. Just sitting on a park bench and watching them could keep me occupied for weeks. That reminds me—I even painted something a couple of days ago.”

“You
painted
?”

“Yes. Nothing much, just a park, but it felt good.”

“That’s awesome, Katrina. It’s been forever since you painted anything, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. Years, actually. I can’t remember why I stopped, although I imagine it had something to do with my parents telling me to.”

Deb laughed. “Well, it’s great that you finally started again, and I’m thrilled that you’re enjoying yourself out there. Have you met anybody yet?”

“Yes, my neighbors: Shana and Grace.”

“I thought nobody knew their neighbors in New York.”

“Me too, but we thought wrong, because I literally met them the moment I arrived from the airport. They’re really nice.”

“Is one of them like eighty? In the movies, the heroine always seems to have an eighty-year-old neighbor. Meddling, yet wise. Cranky, but with a heart of gold.”

“Hardly. They’re our age. And they’re super friendly. They even invited me to join them for drinks that night.”

“Did you go?”

“Yes.”

“
You
went out for drinks on a weeknight?”

“I had one beer. Don’t get too excited.”

“I’m excited. You can’t stop me.”

“They call me Kat.”

“
Kat
? I bet that weirded you out.”

“It did a little, at first, but I think it’s sort of fun. You know, new city, new name, new me?”

Deb’s excitement bubbled through the phone. “Oh my God, I’m loving this! Painting? A nickname? Not immediately plowing through your to-do list? Going out for drinks in the middle of the week? You have no idea how much I’m loving this.”

Katrina leaned down and picked up a leaf. “I also met Shana’s boyfriend, Josh. He’s very friendly too, even paid for all our drinks.”

“Ooh, boyfriend Josh. I like the potential in that. Does boyfriend Josh have any single friends for Kat to meet?”

“I didn’t ask him, given that
I’d
only been
Kat
for like
. . .
five minutes.”

“Touché. Kat can ask him next time. You should also have her ask her new friends for fun things to do that don’t show up in any of
Katrina
’s guidebooks. I bet that could keep you both busy for quite a while.”

“Kat will make a mental note to do that.”

“Good. So what else do you have to tell me? You have like a minute left, by the way.”

Katrina held up the leaf and admired it in the sunlight. “Wednesday night I had drinks in Tribeca with my RA from college.”

“Drinks again? As in two nights in a row? I think I may need to lie down.”

Katrina laughed. “Going out for drinks after work seems to be the MO around here.” She didn’t mention meeting Reid, unsure how to bring him up or even what she should say. It wasn’t like anything inappropriate had happened between them, but she felt a bit weird about the text message h
e’d
sent her. She hadn’t replied because she couldn’t for the life of her think what to say. Part of her thought it was a tad out of line for him to contact her, but maybe she was reading too much into it. He had noted that she took herself too seriously. Maybe this was one of those times?

“Well then, who are you to buck tradition? In my opinion, the world is a happier place when people go out for drinks after work. Did Kat go for the trifecta last night? Please tell me she did.”

Katrina folded the leaf in her hand and felt it crackle into little bits. “I wish I could say she did, but last night I stayed in and worked on my résumé.”

“Did you just say you worked on your
résumé
?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m hanging up now. Katrina’s back.”

“Don’t start, okay?”

“Fine. You’re down to thirty seconds. What’s on the agenda for Kat after her leisurely stroll through the park? Glad to hear she’s putting those new sneakers to good use, by the way.”

“I’m not sure yet. I guess she’ll have to tell you the next time you two talk.”

“Deal. Please tell her to keep having enough fun for both of us. Or all three of us, if you count Katrina.”

“I will. I’m sure she’ll try her best.”

“I’m proud of her. I’m proud of you too. But no more working on your résumé, promise?”

Katrina laughed. “
Thanks, Mom
—though we both know my mom would never say that.”

When Katrina hung up the phone, she saw a new text message had come in during the call.

It was from her mother, reminding her to update her LinkedIn profile.

She tossed the leaf bits into the air and kept walking.

Katrina spent nearly an hour strolling through Central Park, covering more ground than sh
e’d
meant to, but she was so mesmerized by the charm and beauty surrounding her that she did
n’t
realize how far sh
e’d
gone until her legs began to ache. While exploring the seemingly endless walkways, recreational fields, and grassy knolls, she stumbled across the zoo, the Boathouse, and the reservoir, plus multiple ice-cream carts, whose distinctive bells triggered vivid childhood memories of hot summer days. She also encountered countless wide-eyed tourists who appeared to be similarly awed by the bright autumn light and tree-lined paths.

She felt aimless and carefree.

And wonderful.

When she finally made it back to her neighborhood, Katrina wandered into the coffeehouse near her apartment, the third day in a row sh
e’d
done so. Today it was more crowded, and she wondered if sh
e’d
be able to find a seat to read her newspaper. As she waited in line to order, she pulled out her phone and began typing a reply to her mother’s text. She could postpone getting back to her mother, but she couldn’t outright ignore her.

“Well, hello again.”

She looked up in surprise. The green-eyed barista who had taken her order the first day was standing behind the counter. She hadn’t seen him when she walked in, and she hadn’t seen him yesterday either. He was dressed much as h
e’d
been the other day: a plaid shirt over a white T-shirt, both still untucked, with jeans. His face had the same five o’clock shadow.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly tense.
Why am I nervous? Why am I noticing his outfit?

He smiled. “What can I get you today?”

“I’ll have a skim latte and a blueberry scone, please.”

“Isn’t that what you ordered the other day?”

She nodded.

“I bet you order that every day. Am I right?” He pointed to her newspaper. “You strike me as a creature of habit.”

She gave him a shy smile. “Maybe. I’m trying to become more adventurous though.”

“Adventure is always good. And so are our blueberry scones. Some even say they’re the best in town—although when I say
some,
I really mean
me
.”

“They are pretty good.” She looked around the room and saw an unoccupied table in the corner, the only one in the place.

Reading her mind, he gestured to it. “Grab it,” he said. “Real estate in here can be a bit tricky this time of day, so you’ve got to pounce when you can. I’ll bring you the latte when it’s ready.” He placed a scone on a plate and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She hurried to the table, sat down, opened the
Times
, and spread it out in front of her. After the long walk in the park, she was looking forward to relaxing as she immersed herself in the news.

She was in the middle of an article about the latest round of Israeli-Palestinian peace talks when the barista appeared with her latte. “Anything exciting happening?” He set down the cup on the table and rubbed his hands together.

She looked up from the paper. “I guess so. I mean, not really, but sort of.” She realized how ambivalent her answer was and cringed slightly. She followed current events and took pride in knowing what was going on in the world, but for some reason she felt like going into detail about the Middle East might make her come across as too serious—or boring. She reached for the latte and hoped the awkward moment would pass.

“Got it: not really, but sort of.” He half-laughed and turned to go. “Enjoy your scone.”

She felt her cheeks flush. Had she offended him? She hoped not.

Katrina spent the next half hour engrossed in the newspaper. When she finally looked up, the coffeehouse had nearly emptied out. She noticed the classical music in the background again, which sh
e’d
managed to shut out as she read. It was soothing and just the right volume. She recognized it as Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata
, one of her dad’s favorites.