Page 2 of The Love Dose
“Okay, so let me get this straight. They expect me to live in the Dakota, with its astronomical HOA fees, onnothing? Should I start selling lemonade in Central Park to pay the electric bill?”
Not to mention my life coach, psychotherapist, bimonthly massages, regularly scheduled elective surgery?—
I try hard not to hyperventilate. I feel the weight of Howard’s gaze on me as he awaits a reply. I need to maintain my composure, to compartmentalize. I take a deep breath, look at my watch. I have somewhere to be.
He’s eyeing me with that look you give someone who’s teetering on the edge of a breakdown but hasn’t quite gone off the deep end yet. “You’d still have the apartment and the car.”
“Oh, fantastic. I’ll sit in the Mercedes and pretend I’m not broke.” I stand up, needing to move before I completely lose my cool. “Present a counteroffer,” I say, trying to sound fierce, though I’m mostly just frazzled. “But let them think I’m ready for war.”
Howard clears his throat, looking hesitant. “Caroline, can I give you some advice?”
“That’s what I’m paying you for.”
“Settle. Take the offer.”
I freeze mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“Life is short. As you saw with Bernard.” He lowers his voice and I can't tell if it's an act or genuine. He's that good. “I know he loved you.Youknow he loved you. You’ve got nothing to prove. You can avoid going through a long, drawn-out court battle and you’ll get the apartment and the car. That's not being disputed. Do you really need more than that?”
I’m not accustomed to my lawyer giving me caring life tips. I keep my face steady. What he doesn’t get—what no one seems to get—is how much I wish Bernard was still here.
“I’ll think about it,” I say though I have no intention of doing so. Bernard left me half his estate. Hisverylarge estate and I’m not walking away just because his kids are throwing a temper tantrum.
“You need to decide by Monday, at the latest,” Howard says. That’s in three days!
I have one foot out the door when something occurs to me and I'm suddenly near panic. “What about Paul?”
Howard is beside me, placing a comforting hand on my back as he shakes his head. “They don’t want to cover the expense of your chauffeur.”
We both know Paul is far more than my chauffeur. He was Bernard’s closest confidant and ally. He has become family to me. The thought of him losing his job and me losing his company and dedication is more than I can bear to think about.
I need to keep my emotions in check. At least until after lunch.
Miraculously, I manage to hold my voice steady. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Two
Caroline
An icy blast hits me in the face as I exit the building’s turnstile, freezing the tears to my face like tiny, sad icicles. I don’t like crying. In a city like this one, a tearful woman is a weak woman. And I am anything but.
I dab my eyes with the edge of my cashmere scarf, careful not to smudge my makeup.
I pick up my pace to keep up with the flow of pedestrians, allowing the bustling scene of Fifth Avenue to distract me.
New York in December is magical. Horse drawn carriages through snow-laden Central Park, the enticing aroma of roasting chestnuts wafting from corner street carts. For a few weeks each year, it's as if a cozy blanket is dropped on the city.
Holiday shoppers, toting bags from Saks, Bergdorf's and Bloomie's, speed-walk past each other. Another reminder that I’ve fully neglected my holiday shopping. I’ve had other things to contend with.
A line is forming outside Saks for the window viewing. It feels like yesterday when Bernard and I checked out the magnificent window displays. Since then, my entire world has turned upside down. I decide to get in line, even if it means I’ll be a few minutes late.
Cheerful dolls from around the world, clad in their countries' distinct holiday garb, fill the storefront windows, creating a visual story. Faux snowflakes float down from the painted heavens. Santa on his gift-laden sleigh makes a pass every thirty seconds. It's like looking inside a giant snow globe. The crowd is enthralled, many taking photos as they shuffle from window to window.
I’m at the last window when I catch my reflection and cringe. I see my face beside a cherub-faced doll, dressed in lederhosen, a candy cane spinning in her robotic arm. I look worse than sad. I look lonely. In a borough of 1.6 million souls, that's quite an achievement.
My breath is frozen as I walk past Rockefeller Center, the skaters gliding along the ice, the massive, jeweled spruce in the background. I read somewhere this year's tree hails from North Carolina.
A real-life Santa lumbers by me, jingling a bell in one hand, toting a donation bucket in the other. I find a ten-dollar bill in my pocket and toss it inside.
