I
Quentin and Victoria Appleton host an engagement party for their eldest son, Thomas Francis Appleton IV and his fiancé Jeanne Marceau, a promising young fashion designer working for Anne Klein.
Pink lace and white ivy hang across the ceiling in the Ballroom; white tulips in tall pink vases and pink roses in tall white vases are at each corner. Guests hold glasses of champagne, sampling assorted delicacies carried on silver and gold trays by sharply dressed waiters and waitresses; a sextet of musicians serenades the group with classical and modern tunes. The French doors are open to the gardens, guests cluster together; noise lifts to the ceiling where there is a tapestry of clouds and angels with trumpets. It is a wonderful, warm mid summer’s evening.
Jeanne Marceau has sandy blonde bangs falling to her eyebrows and full lips, “Mummy saw Tommy’s and my photograph in People Magazine, she didn’t appreciate the article, though. Daddy is not a Podiatrist, he’s a pharmacist and she grew up in Jersey City, not Asbury Park.” Jeanne is one of those for whom life comes easy.
Angelique Kendal quips, “Maybe they thought those things sounded more interesting.” A photographer and journalist working for Essence Magazine; she recently published a book of poems and short stories which received great reviews and had good sales.
Jeanne sighs, taking another sip from her glass of Don Perignon, “Most things you read in celebrity magazines are made up anyway. Who would have thought it?” the three girls once living for their copies of Tiger Beat and the stories within.
Cynthia Hopkins dark eyes flash over the room at the young men in attendance, “Who are Angie and I going to be paired with for your wedding?” the three have been friends since sixth grade at Hockanum School in East Hartford Connecticut, “I hope they’re interesting.” A pretty buxom brunette in glasses who works as a clerk/typist for a company in The World Trade Center.
Jeanne is planning on having several bridesmaids, “Tommy was talking about his friend Theo, he’s an architect and another friend, his jogging buddy.” Jeanne glances at Angelique Kendal, “Angie, you seem nervous tonight.” A waiter offers a tray of blinis topped with sour cream and red or black caviar, the three each taking one.
Angelique has dark brown skin, huge deep set brown eyes, and a wide long nose; she looks lovely in a sleeveless ruby red dress, her kinky black hair loose, “Mr. Appleton keeps staring at me.” She is not the only black person here, there is also a lawyer and his wife, as well as a friend of Mark Appleton from Columbia University.
Jeanne noticed that, she dismissed it as her imagination.
Cynthia remarks, “Maybe he likes you.” When they had been introduced Quentin Appleton looked at Angelique with such shocked eyes, as if he had seen a ghost, everyone noticed it.
Angelique tosses her head at the thought, taking a sip of champagne.
“Stare back at him see what happens.”
Angelique’s eyes shift towards the dashing older man; she smiles a little at his continued attention.
Jeanne likes Quentin, “He’s really very nice.” The Appleton’s are a political dynasty in New York. Quentin is a Justice on the New York Supreme Court; he is faithful to his wife of twenty-nine years. The Appleton’s live an uncomplicated life, free of scandals.
Angelique sighs sweetly, “I’m just a girl from Connecticut.” A lot of the men and women glance at her. She made a name for herself first as a photographer, traveling the world taking pictures of everyday things and people from London to Southeast Asia. She won awards for them. Her long-time boyfriend and one time fiancé Lindsay Munson is a reporter for Time Magazine: the two became celebrities, breaking the color barrier; appearing on The Mike Douglas Show and Merv Griffin.
Jeanne momentarily touches her friend’s arm saying sadly, “Angie.” Wanting to tell her something important. Something she should have told her earlier.
“What?”
“I hope you’re excited about the fashion show.” Her two friends are wearing Jeanne’s latest designs for charity, “It’s been so nice us all being together.” They toured Europe seven years earlier; and although they went separate ways, the three always kept in touch through cards and phone calls, “The press will be there.”
Angelique tosses her chin, “I take a stunning photograph.” Appearing on Glamour Magazine, the second black woman to be featured.
Cynthia gasps, “Mr. Appleton is coming this way.” Taking a sip of champagne for courage.
Jeanne stiffens her spine, “Let’s all be calm.”
Cynthia whispers, “What are we doing to do now?” suddenly feeling as if they are in trouble.
Angelique assures her, “I’m not afraid.”
Quentin smiles asking politely, “Are you ladies enjoying yourselves tonight?”
Jeanne nods her head, “Yes, we are.”
Angelique asks pointedly, “Why are you staring at me?” she had a happy childhood in a factory town. Her father’s family owns a farm between Glastonbury and East Hartford Connecticut; he owns two businesses, they lived in a large Octagon House built in 1892. However, Angelique has experienced prejudice.
“Forgive me, Miss Kendal. You remind me of someone I knew many years ago.”
He cannot get over the resemblance.
“Oh.”
“Her name was Lily.” Quentin reminisces sadly, “She was sweet, funny, strong, had a beautiful singing voice and was a great cook. She made Ossobuco once, still the best I ever had.”
“A maid?” that was how things were for them in those days.
Quentin shakes his head, “No, she was a teacher.”
Angelique says sweetly, “You had a little crush.” A girl can always tell.
Quentin smiles sadly, “She was one of those rare truly kind people whom everyone loved. Forgive me.” there is no sense in bringing up what has been buried, yet never forgotten. Even that was too much. Lily is dead, his elder brother Thomas Francis Appleton III is dead. Lily was hit by a car; Thomas died of a broken heart. The world moved on and forgot about them.
“Excuse me another guest has just arrived.”
Angelique turns around, dropping her champagne glass, it shatters into pieces against the marble floor.
Jeanne motions to a waiter, “I’m sorry, Angie. I didn’t know he was coming until this afternoon.”
Cynthia shrieks, “Oh my God, is that? Yes, it is.”
A waiter is on the scene with brush and dustpan, as a waitress with a rag wipes away a little liquid.
Angelique backs away, “I’m sorry.” Wanting nothing more than to run away, not be here at all. Then their gaze meets, she knows Robinson Saberi feels the same.
Jeanne begs leading her friend away, “Forgive me, Angie.” she should have told her; but she wanted Angie to come, “I didn’t know Tommy’s friend Robin was Robin.”
Angelique stares at Robinson, “It’s alright, Jeanne.” It is a shock, though. She never thought of seeing her best childhood friend ever again, neither made any effort to.
Cynthia looks him over, “He certainly has changed in nine years.” Remembering their tall, lanky class clown always quick with a joke.
Jeanne remarks over what is common knowledge, “He did live with that rich lady for three years.” Briefly glancing at Angelique, “Sorry.”
Cynthia turns her back, “Let’s not look.” Jeanne and Angelique follow; Cynthia wonders out loud, “What should we talk about now?”
“Disco.” Jeanne says to Angelique, “You’re going to be wearing two dresses from my disco collection.” Disco being all the rage.
“I like dancing.” Angelique has been to Studio 54.
Robinson Saberi stands six foot one, broad shoulders, black hair, looking dashing in a black suit with a green tie matching his eyes perfectly.
Thomas Appleton IV is average looking, with ambition and a promising future, “Here.” Handing his friend a glass of whiskey, “Jack Daniels, your favorite.”
“Thanks.” Robin almost did not come here tonight, this is not his crowd; however, he felt compelled to, like he needed to.
“You look upset.”
Robin shakes his head, “A lot on my mind.” He and Angie’s gaze lock for a few more seconds.
Quentin holds out his hand, “Mr. Saberi, so good of you to come.”
“Quentin.” Robinson has no idea why he said that, bad manners.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Appleton, nice to meet you finally.”
Robin has heard many nice things about him, a brilliant jurist and fair judge.
“Tommy has told me you are with Ladder 15. I know Deputy Chief O’Malley. He is a good man.”
“Yes, he is.” Robin has been with the New York Fire Department for five and a half years.
Thomas motions with his whiskey glass, “Robin was just put on New York Magazine’s list of the 100 most eligible bachelors in the City.” They have known each other for three years, having met while jogging in Central Park, striking up a friendship. The Appleton family always had an eclectic group of friends, “I told him people have short memories.”
Robin lived with a woman twenty years his senior, the two were lovers; she helped him readjust to civilian life and they traveled together, “People like commenting on what they know nothing about.” She encouraged him to become a Fire Fighter, what he always wanted.
Audrey Duval died four years ago from breast cancer.
“Victoria and I knew Audrey and her husband, Kent. They were good people.” He does not judge Robinson Saberi.
When Audrey Duval died, she left her young lover twenty thousand dollars, several stocks with dividends. Her in-laws, the powerful Duval family, tried overturning the Will insisting the money belonged to them, not her ‘pool boy’ as they referred to him in court papers.
Audrey hired good lawyers and he won the case, but it lasted for thirteen months. Robin hated every moment of it.
Robin has had dozens of relationships since Audrey, nothing ever lasted; none of them ever meant much to him.
At 10:30 Angelique takes a walk outside for fresh air, the full moon cast an eerie shadow over the garden’s flowers and pavement. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata adds to the night’s mystique.
A voice in the darkness says, “Do you remember that Halloween we dressed up as a vampire and a witch? There was a waning moon, we stopped at old Mrs. Beeseyes house, no lights on; Bobby Dawson jumped up saying boo and we ran screaming holding hands all the way to my house, no short run.”
“We were eight.”
“Funny how scared we were, when there was nothing really to be scared of.
Maple Street wasn’t scarry, it was the safest place in the world.” Robin walks towards her.
“Jared and his friends made us go back out, not be scared. We had so much candy that night. It took two weeks for me to eat it all.” She wipes away tears, “You know whenever I see kids in their costumes on Halloween, I don’t think of us, I think of Jared.”
Robin says nothing; his brother Jared died in the Battle of LeDrang Valley in 1965 when Robin was fifteen.
“How old do you suppose old Mrs. Beeseyes really was?” Angelique muses, the woman was always ancient.
“One hundred.” The two share a laugh, “I almost didn’t come here tonight.” Robin never talks about Jared, not in twelve years, not one single time, not even at his memorial. No one ever saw him cry.
“Do you remember that summer we tried taking tennis lessons together?” it was the only time they came close to a fight.
“You threw the racket at me and said you were leaving.” The other players were not comfortable with Angelique.
“They weren’t prejudice just ignorant. They never met a black person before.”
“You had that green Ford Thunderbird convertible. We went down to New Haven to eat at Louie’s Lunch.” Robin smiles at the memories, “Great times. We used to cruise up and down Route 5, just talking to anyone and everyone.” Too bad it had to end.
“It was a great car.” Angelique’s two Uncles bought it for her sixteenth birthday, “I should have handled it differently and have since then.”
“We were sixteen, we didn’t know anything yet.” Adding after a pause, “I read your book, quite good.”
“Thank you. I’m working on another one, a novel this time.”
Robin wishes to keep her talking, “You were engaged for a while.” Something loving and familiar in being together; they share a bond, although it is frayed now.
“Lindsay wanted a wife who stayed at home and lived for him. That’s fine, but it wasn’t what I wanted. Lindsay is a good man and I still love him, always will.”
They broke up last year and she moved to New York City. Angelique shrugs her shoulders, “Eventually we would have disappointed each other.” Asking tenderly, “Did you love her?”
“Yes, I did very much.”
“What do they say at the Fire Department?”
“I have guts.”
“Whiskey?” she remembers them sharing ice cream floats and hot dogs at Augie and Ray’s Drive-In on Main Street, across from an old Cemetery.
Robin steps towards her, “We’re not children anymore. We grew up, had our hearts broken, saw what the world outside our neighborhood was really like.” He spent two years in Vietnam as a Dustoff pilot, flying a Huey, evacuating the wounded from off the Battlefield.
Angelique folds her arms “You decided twelve years ago. You always told me everything and you never even told me until the Senior Ball.” it was the last time they saw each other before tonight.
Robinson left for bootcamp the very next day, “What good would telling you have done? It would have ruined everything.”
“I never mentioned you to Lindsay.”
Sometimes she wanted to, but never could bring herself; she could never say why, there never seemed to be a reason. She and Robin were always just best friends, “I read all your letters, like you knew I would.” They corresponded for the first year; the second year Angelique stopped writing back, the stories became too much, yet the letters still came.
“Angie.”
Angelique turns away, her heart recognizing something in his voice, “You dragged me there with you. You gave me nightmares.”
“Forgive me.”
Angelique shakes her head, “I did, but it’s not the same. It will never be the same again, it can’t be.” She and Robin danced together at The Penney High School Senior Ball; no one cared, no one gave the white boy and black girl a single glance; for years they had been best friends, people expected it. They danced to The Beatles In My Life.
“Good-night, Angie.”
“Good-night, Robin.”
ii
The Appleton Family raise money for various charities by hosting dozens of events throughout the year: August is a fashion show held in the Purple Starlight Ballroom at their Grand Hotel, The Appleton.
Jeanne’s clothes are a mixture of disco and leisure: Two professional models along with Cynthia and Angelique wear several of her pantsuits and various day and evening dresses. Two other young designers are also feature with their work and models. The entire show raising five thousand dollars.
After the show the invited guests have a catered lunch in the Jade Room, there is a sky roof, black changing screens, ceramic elephants, palm trees, rippling water in a pond with lotus blossoms.
Jeanne points out a man to Cynthia, “See that guy with Tommy and Robin, that’s Theo.”
Cynthia looks over one shoulder at the bespectacled young man, “Not bad.”
Jeanne whispers, “His father is a big shot at Boeing, Theo is adopted, his real parents are dead. Common gossip is they were Soviet spies working at Boeing.”
Angelique asks, “Remember Ivan Bariatinski? He was a Soviet spy.”
Cynthis clasps her hands together, “Didn’t you and he?”
Angelique has a twinkle in her eyes, “Ivan introduced me to Russian poetry and music, wonderful. I can speak elementary Russian.” She is also fluent in Spanish, German and French.
Mrs. Josephine van Courtlandt a buxom woman reeking of Chanel #5 accosts Robin with her daughter Fredericka in tow, “All the invitations to my Ball have been sent out. Of course, I can still fit a name or two on the list.” An invitation to a van Courtland Ball is coveted by society elites, “My daughter Frederika doesn’t have an escort at the moment.” Flashing a smile at the skinny girl who would have been pretty had she put on more weight.
Tommy and Theo snicker at their friend’s expense, wondering what he will say.
“Thank you for your kind invitation.”
Josephine van Courtland asks breathlessly hands clasped in prayer, “So you will attend?” what a triumph that would be for her; he may be a lowly Fireman, but Robinson Saberi is handsome and one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. The ladies would enjoy dancing with him.
“Well, not by myself. I would have to bring my girlfriend with me.”
Tommy and Theo look surprised, as they knew nothing of this.
Josephine repeats sadly, “Your girlfriend?”
“Yes.” Robin nods his head.
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, the magazine said.”
“Magazines are often wrong.”
“What is her name?”
Robin hesitates before pointing, “She is right there, Miss Angelique Kendal.”
The two ladies turn their head towards Angelique’s table.
“Beautiful isn’t she? The loveliest woman in this room.”
“Well.” Josephine takes Frederika’s arm, “We won’t trouble you any longer.” The van Countlandt’s have never had a black person at one of their Balls. It is out of the question.
Tommy asks, “How long has this been going on?” this is the first he has heard of it, Jeanne said nothing about it.
Theo parroting, “Yeah, how long?”
Robin does not know what to say, “It’s complicated.” Holding up his hand, “Excuse me.” He walks to Angelique’s table asking, “Angie, can I talk to you privately for a moment?”
Angelique scowls, “Why?” he barely spoke to her this afternoon.
“Please, can we go outside on the patio? I’ll tell you there.” Leaning closer looking into her eyes as he whispers, “If I ever meant anything to you.”
Angelique pushes back her chair, walking ahead of him outside, feeling the rush of hot, sticky air against her skin, “What is it?”
Robin hesitates, not knowing how to begin, “Mrs. van Courtlandt invited me to a Ball. Well, I said I would have to bring my girlfriend with me. She asked me who it was, I told her you.”
Angelique clenches her fits, “What?”
“I told Mrs. van Courtlandt, Tommy and Theo we were dating.”
“How could you?”
“I got scared.”
Angelique steps closer to him, “You picked up the wounded off dozens of hell hole battlefields in Vietnam. Yet, you were frightened by a fat white woman wearing too much perfume.”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”
Angelique crosses her arms, “I don’t believe you.”
“Do you want me to go in and say I lied?”
Angelique hesitates, “No.” glancing into the room, seeing casual glances directed at them, “You do realize what you’ve done? I have a reputation here, people know me. Mrs. van Couttlandt is a big mouth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, are we going to the Ball?”
Robin shakes his head.
“Of course not. My kind isn’t welcome at one of her events.”
“Her loss.”
Angelique explains, “My ex-fiancé was from one of the country’s richest black families. They are bankers. I once dated a prince from Swaziland and a Russian businessman. You have a past, Robin. I don’t.”
“And I’m only a Fire fighter. My father worked for Pratt and Whitney Aircraft. Now he works for NASA, so does my brother, Tony. My sister Betty works at Disney World, my sister Sheila is a lawyer. I was never poor. We were about equal.” They lived around the corner from each other. Robin’s family lived in a Greek Revival home built in 1863.
“I just mean.”
“I know what you mean. You could have done a lot better than me and did.”
“I always thought of you as an engineer.”
“That wasn’t me.” That was his brother, Jared.
“Well, I guess we can make it work for a while.” Angelique is tired of her friends always trying to fix her up on dates; she wants to write, “I’m not a cheap date, so you are going to have to work harder with me.” Dating complicates things.
“Let’s walk back in together.”
“No, I think we just had our first fight.” Turning her back to him, “You and I were supposed to be a secret.”
“Why? Oh…I get it.”
“Don’t be like that. You can see me home.” Angelique returns to her table.
Jeanne begins slowly, Tommy already having told her, “So when did you and Robin have a chance?” the engagement party was only two days ago; Angelique was genuinely shocked to see him.
“We met up for drinks last night, you know one thing led to another. He is handsome.” Feeling the need to add, “Robin and I have known each other since kindergarten.” Miss Debonis’ Room where they shared peanut butter crackers and oatmeal cookies.
The lunch concludes at 3:00, people filtering out one by one.
Robin and Angelique leave together strolling down Park Avenue. Angelique telling him, “Mama said Uncle Maurice and Uncle Noah had tears in their eyes when Jordan suggested selling the farm.” Her elder brother is set to take over the fifty-one hundred acre farm.
Robin always liked Uncle Maurice and Uncle Noah, they were quick with a joke and took no nonsense from anyone, “Your family has been there for eighty-five years. Why would he want to sell it?”
“In Connecticut, farm land is being paved over for shopping centers. Our land is worth a million dollars now, but may not be in a few years. They have a way of cheating us. Tyler agrees.” Her brother Tyler is studying Veterinarian medicine, “Jordan wants to move back to Georgia.”
“It’s sad, but I can see Jordan’s point.
What do you think?”
“It’s sad, but I do see the point and I agree.” The two smiling, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Do you ever see Harley, Manny or Bruce?” his three crewmates from Vietnam.
“We keep in touch. We attended Manny’s wedding three years ago. He married a girl from Louisville. Big church, lots of food.” Adding with a sigh, “I’m the last single guy. They keep waiting for me to marry someone so we can get together again.”
“Good.” Angelique has a photograph of the four: two black, two white standing by a Huey helicopter, “Do you think Bobby Dawson knew it was you who picked him up on Hamburger Hill?” she has many photographs from Vietnam.
“Yes, I think he did.” Robin still sees the faceless mess that once was Bobby Dawson, “I was there when he took his last breath.”
“I went to several anti-war protests. Sometimes I felt so torn.” Angelique also sent Robin care packages that first year.
“Don’t be, the war was meaningless. Rescuing those men wasn’t.”
“That’s why you went.” Angelique knew it all along, “To rescue them, like no one could rescue Jared.”
“Yes.” Robin’s brother was burned alive, nothing left of him but charred remains, “Did you like living in Europe?”
“I did. London was my favorite.”
“I’ve never been to London, but I have been to Rome, Paris and Zurich.” Audrey had homes in those cities.
“Remember when we were going to travel the world, see all the countries?” they were six years old and believed they could.
Robin stops walking.
“What?”
“I don’t want our relationship to be things that happened when we were kids.” Robin hates talking about his past; though for a few moments he did not mind it.
“We don’t have a relationship.” Angelique shakes her head, “We don’t even know each other anymore.”
Robin lifts his hand, “Hello, I’m Robinson Saberi.”
Angelique shakes it, “I’m Angelique Kendal, from East Hartford Connecticut.”
“Really?” Robin raises his eyebrows, “So am I.”
“What a coincidence.”
“I like riding my Harley, tennis, jogging and Mexican food. I don’t like any tv show set in the South, and I don’t like peas.”
“I like swimming, jogging, long walks. I don’t like tv shows set in the South. I don’t like peas, either. I love Mexican food and have a taste for Indian cuisine.”
“I have a temper.”
“So do I.” Angelique jerks her head, the two continue walking, “I’m going to a party on Saturday, just some friends. We get together in Greenwich Village once a month discussing all kinds of things.
Last month we talked for two hours on the Harlem Renaissance, pros and cons and does it still influence our community today.”
“Who goes to these parties?”
“We have artists, writers, dancers, singers, actors, intellectuals. People just show up. We’re open. Yes, we do have white and Latinos who attend on occasion. The discussions can get heated, it’s all friendly though.”
“What can I contribute?”
“Your experiences in Vietnam, your life afterwards. The problems you face as a returning vet. Like I said we talk about everything and we do have veterans in our group.” Media is filled with depictions of the crazed Vietnam Veteran killer, “Also, you drive a Harley.”
“I’d love to.”
“It’s casual dress.”
“Suits me.”
Angelique purses her lips, “We might just work out afterall.
iii
Angelique’s apartment is on 44th Street in Manhattan. A long black leather sofa, coffee table and two black leather chairs are arranged neatly, on the brick walls are blown up photogrpahs of Kenya and Swaziland; there are long windows, a little kitchenette and bathroom: a circular iron stair case leads to a second floor with two bedrooms and another bathroom.
Robin arrives at Angelique’s apartment to find her in grief, “What’s the matter?” sitting with her on the sofa.
“Grammy died.”
Robin remembers Grammy Williams fondly; she made the best pies and often spoke of growing up in Eatonville Florida, “I’m so sorry.”
“I have to go back to East Hartford.”
Angelique dabs her eyes with a tissue, “So, we’ll have to postpone our trip to Greenwich Village. She was such a sweet lady.”
Robin offers, “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Sheila will be happy. She and Chris are always trying to get one of us to see the improvements they’ve made to our house.” His elder sister and her husband live there, “Besides, I want us to be friends again.”
“Nine years is a long time. My parents still live in the same house.” Shrugging her shoulders, “Of course, I could have made an effort too. Sheila and Chris planted new tea roses and aanother lilac bush in the front yard, quite picturesque.” Angelique says, “Alright, I don’t want to be alone on the train. Take me out to Elaine’s tonight.” A place she loves, “You’re paying for everything.” Batting her eyelids, “Don’t worry I will look stunning, I’ll be worth it.”
“So will I.”
At nine o’clock in the evening, Robin and Angelique saunter into Elaine’s, both looking fine, turning many heads. Fortunately, at Elaine’s everyone is always discrete. After dinner, he sees Angelique home in a cab, going back to his own apartment.
The next afternoon Robin wears jeans and a t-shirt featuring the Union Jack, carrying two suitcases onto the train; Angelique wears flare jeans and a short sleeved green blouse with red, yellow and green flowers, a black bag over one shoulder.
Strolling together down the aisle both take notice of the side glances; when they take a seat in front Angelique whispers, “People are staring at us.”
“Of course, they are. We’re both good-looking. Good-looking always gets noticed. I’m comfortable with it.”
Angelique asks, “How did you get to be so vain?” once he was not, “I’m not even as vain as you are.”
Robin says simply, “When you get told often enough, you start to believe it.” He winks at her.
The two look at each other quietly, Angelique breaking the moment, “Let’s stop at Gino’s.” a little Italian pizzeria down the street from where they once lived, it was the most popular hangout in town. “I’ll have a meatball grinder.”
Grinder the New England name for a Hero or Sub.
“And I’ll have a capicola grinder. Just like always.” Robin has had them other places, they were never as good.
“Same as usual. Do you remember that time school was called off for snow? We went there for lunch and had a pizza with everything.” It felt like they were doing something indecent.
“Mr. Procaccini was a little insulted at us turning our noses up at our usual.”
“Take me for a ride on your Harley one day.” Angelique loves motorcycles.
“Have you ever even been to a fire house?”
“No.” Angelique lowers her eyes, “You know I don’t even know where you live now.”
“A little studio apartment on East 50th Street. It’s not fancy, but I like it.” Robin adds, “I’ve lived in fancy.”
“So have I.” Angelique shifts on the seat, “What were you doing one week ago?” Last Friday, the day before they met again.
“I was propelling off a roof via a rope to rescue a man from a smoke filled twelfth floor apartment then bringing him down to the eleventh floor. Only three of my fire fighter brethren, holding the rope, kept me from plummeting to my death below.” Flashing a satisfied grin.
“I was at the New York City Library doing research on Greek Mythology for my novel. It’s going to be Fantasy about Medusa and Perseus. It’s the story of a strong woman and the unrequited love of a strong man for her. It takes place in modern times, I thought of Florida as the setting. Grammy would approve. I have to do a lot of research on Florida too.”
Angelique has only been there twice in her life.
“Now here we are together again, just like old times.”
“And new ones.”
BioBio
Catherine Cahill was born in East Hartford, Connecticut. She worked for thirty-one years at various agencies for The State of Connecticut. In 2017 she tired to Florida pursuing her two Passions. Her first is training in various Martial Arts: Krav Maga, Muay Thai Kickboxing and Jui-Jitsu. Her second is writing stories.