Page 50 of Fall Wherever They May

“Oh, I don’t think that’s the case, sweetheart. I witnessed how he looked at you all night.”

I turn my head and study her. “Yeah? And how is that? Because I just went over to his house and made a complete fool of myself.”

She moves my hair from my face, “Like you’re his whole world.”

“Well, that can’t be the look you saw. Because he flat-out rejected me just now. Well, he kissed me then rejected me.” I groan, embarrassment still at the surface of my emotions. “I’m falling for him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

“If you spend all of your time with him and nothing else comes of your relationship other than friendship, will you regret the time you’ve invested or your feelings for him?”

“No, Mom. Of course not. He’s my best friend.”

“I really like Cal, and I think he is good for you and for Tucker. I can tell he has feelings for you. If he is who you want, then you have to let him set the pace; don’t push him. Though, there may come a point where you will have to decide not to letyourlife pass you by. You can’t wait forever for someone who isn’t willing to push through their own barriers for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” I wipe the mascara from under my eyes with my fingers. Mom kisses my temple, squeezes me tight, then releases me. I’m thinking about what she just said when she cuts off my train of thought by changing the subject.

“Just give him a little more time. Now about tomorrow. Are we still

going to look at houses?”

“Yes. I’m nervous about how I’ll feel when I walk through one of my father’s properties for the first time. Part of me is anxious to get it out of the way, and the other part is downright dreading it.”

“I think you need this closure. I’ve decided I’m not moving into one of his properties, though. Even with him gone, I would feel like an intruder.”

“You shouldn’t. But, if it’s too hard for you, though, I’ll buy you a house nearby.”

“I don’t want you spending your money on me. I can just sell my house and see where I’m at. I’ve been smart with my money; I can figure it out myself. How about I call the realtor back home tomorrow and have my house listed, and then we can call your realtor here and tour some houses on the market? I can still go with you to look at your father’s properties, though.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I scoot the stool back and stand. “It’s late, and we have to be up early.” I place a kiss on Mom’s cheek. “Night, Mama.”

“Night, sweetheart. Don’t beat yourself up.”

I mosey up to my room and fall into bed. My chest aches, but I try to remember what my mom said. Did he really look at me like that, or was Mom imagining things?

Music plays softly through my speakers as we drive through the city.

Mom is in the passenger seat; River and Tucker are nestled in the back.

“When is your lease up?” My mom asks.

“The owners will be back May first, so I have to make some decisions quickly.”

We snag a ground-level parking spot in the private, secure parking garage two blocks from Central Park. As we walk to the tower, Tucker cranes his head all the way up.

“Whoa,” Tucker says in awe, “That building is taller the clouds.”

I look up, and my head spins; the height of the building makes me dizzy. I can only imagine what it feels like from the top floors looking down. With ninety-eight stories, the building is the second tallest building in New York City. Glass encases the entire structure.

We make our way to the residential lobby, and when we walk in the glass doors, I’m stunned by the beauty this building inhabits: black, sleek walls with gold trim, a gold and crystal waterfall chandelier hangs over a grey velvet seating area. Facing the seating area is a backlit white wall with gold geometric shapes. I turn to my right and find a white marble concierge desk inside a golden nook. I’m in awe. This building is extremely upscale. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. We’re greeted by the concierge, Nigel, a short older man in his late sixties with kind eyes and a welcoming smile.

I hand him my identification and explain who I am and what we are doing here. He begins talking about my father, and of course, like everyone else, he only has good things to say about him. He has a bit of a New York accent, but every now and then, a British one slips through.

Nigel informs me of an app to download on my phone for the property guide. I download the app; then he walks me through it. He shows me the amenities: a fitness lounge, basketball court, billiard room, theater room, children’s play area, indoor pool, and a spa. There’s also a terrace with a swimming pool, sundeck, and cabanas. I’m just a small-town girl from Oklahoma; this place is fancy as hell. He tells me where to find the property map and contact information for building maintenance and for him. We thank him for his help and saunter to the elevators and take it up to the seventy-eighth floor.

I open the apartment door, step inside, and look around in awe and wonder at the beautiful living area. The luxurious apartment is massive and gorgeous. I have mixed emotionswhile standing here. According to my father’s attorney, this is a place where he spent a lot of his time during the season. There are no traces of his life here—pictures or mementos. I want to gain insight as to who this man was.

White walls and white marble floors reflect the natural light, creating a bright and airy atmosphere. White furniture, various lamps, end tables, plants, and other décor are strategically placed and tied together beautifully with a massive area rug. With eight thousand square feet of space, the apartment has two levels: five bedrooms, six bathrooms, and floor-to-ceiling windows that wrap around the entire front of the penthouse, showcasing the most magnificent view overlooking the city and Central Park. A glass staircase winds up from the first level to the second. So, while this apartment is amazing and filled with beautiful furniture, it also seems lonely and empty. Why did my father need a place so big?

Tucker runs over to the window and looks down below. “Look, Mom, the cars are so tiny.” Nope. Nope. Nope. I’m good on that. “I think I’m okay right here, Buddy.”

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