Anne’s studio apartment was messy as usual, with mail overflowing on the counter, dirty clothes bulging out of her open suitcase, and several art pieces in process scattered throughout.
“Ciao, baby! I’m moving to New York! New York!” she sang.
She glanced at the collages above her bed. Their adventure had been dreamy, and she couldn’t wait to tell her friends about the engagement and move.
When they had called her mother from Italy, Anne had been disappointed she wasn’t more enthusiastic.
Her mother had said, “I’m happy for you. Plus you’ll be closer to us here in Michigan and can visit more often.”
In her green dress and silver shoes, Anne now knocked on Mrs. Landenheim’s door. At the last minute, Anne thought to hide the champagne bottle for Bay Breeze behind her back. Mrs. Landenheim opened the door, and the Siamese threaded itself through Anne’s legs and scooted off.
“I’m giving you my notice.” Anne smiled.
“Notice to what?”
“Sixty days until I move out.”
“What? No!” Mrs. Landenheim groaned. Her basset hound eyes seemed to droop even further than usual. “You can’t leave! You’re my favorite tenant.”
Anne couldn’t believe her ears. For the past few years, Mrs. Landenheim had nagged her about everything from treading the stairs too noisily, to letting the cat out onto the street, to being tardy with the rent. “I am?”
“Of course. I love the fact you’re up there creating.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do! Why are you moving?” Mrs. Landenheim frowned.
“I’m marrying Sergio, and he lives in New York.”
“But San Francisco is your home.”
“Well, I love him and need to be with him.”
“I can understand that.” Mrs. Landenheim beamed with a starry look in her eyes. “I’ve got it! Why doesn’t he move here? I’ll give you the bigger apartment.”
“Thank you. But his job is in New York.”
“I sure will miss you.” Mrs. Landenheim started to cry, shook her head, and closed the door.
Anne blinked back tears. After all these years, the old lady did really care for her. Calling for a Lyft, Anne stepped out of the apartment building, but Mata Hari blocked the way.
Anne jumped over her and turned around. “I’ve got great news. I’m moving to New York.”
“Move! No way!” Mata Hari raised her rickety body fully upright, folded her fists on her hips, and glared at Anne. “You can’t move to New York. It is sooo big. The pollution out there is horrible for your skin.” She ran her fingers over a wrinkled cheek. “See? Mine is still smooth after all these years from the foggy moist weather.”
“But I’m getting married.”
“Married. Don’t be ridiculous. What for?”
“Because I love him.”
“That’s no reason. I’ve told you before: men are nothing but trouble. Since I got rid of my husband, I’ve been happy and free as a bird.” She raised her arms as if flying.
“Here’s my ride. I’ve gotta go.” Anne frowned.
She jumped in the car and sat back. Why couldn’t her friends be happy for her? At least everyone at Bay Breeze would be.
At the house, she ran up the steps carrying the bottle of champagne.
George opened the door with Lucky in his arms.
“Hi, sweet one. Have you been a good boy?” Anne asked the puppy.
George manipulated Lucky’s head to nod yes, and Anne gave the dog a treat from her pocket.
Paul wobbled toward her on his cane. “Anne. You look glamorous—and I can really see you this time.”
She hugged him. “You had the surgery, huh?”
“It’s a miracle!” He chuckled.
The white film was gone from his sky-blue eyes. With George leading the way, Anne and Paul looped their arms together and made their way along the marble floors.
As they entered the library, Anne hollered to Fay, “Get out the champagne flutes!”
“Brilliant.” Fay had been positioning gingersnaps on a Haviland plate next to the tea service and cups. Fay’s flamboyant dress twirled around her feet like a whirling dervish’s as she moved toward Anne.
“I’ve got my own announcement!” Anne handed Fay the champagne bottle and helped herself to a cookie.
“You’re pregnant,” Paul teased.
“Not yet.” Anne laughed and showed off the ring on her finger.
Fay grabbed Anne’s hand. “Blimey. Look at that! Did he get it at a thrift shop?”
“No. It is vintage, though. Been in his family for eons.”
“Who’s the lucky chap?” Paul sat in his easy chair with a smile, Lucky at his feet.
“When’s the wedding? Will you have it here?”
Anne settled on the sofa next to Fay. “Probably spring. We haven’t decided where we’re going to have it yet. As you know, my family lives in Michigan, and most of his is in Italy. However, my friends are here, and many of his are in New York. It’s very complicated.”
“Wherever it is, give us plenty of notice so that we can all be there.” Paul nodded his head. “Marrying Sylvia was the best thing I ever did. May we at least host an engagement party for you here?”
“That would be nice. We’ll see.”
George set a tray with the ice bucket and champagne flutes on the desk. He carefully removed the cork and started to fill the glasses.
“I’m sure going to miss all of you when I move.” Anne laughed.
Everyone stopped and stared at her.
Fay yelled, “Blimey! You didn’t tell me you had decided to move.”
Lucky woke with a bark and did a flying leap into Anne’s lap.
“Shhh!” She stroked his back. “Of course, I’m moving to New York. That’s where Sergio lives.”
“Can’t he move here?” Paul asked.
“No, his work’s there.”
“What about your work?” Fay scrunched up her red lips.
“Mine? Living there, won’t I be stimulated to grow and make new work?”
Fay continued, “But you’ve been doing that here. As I’ve told you, you’re starting to make it here in San Francisco. And there’s that job opening at the museum you’ve applied for. Commute back and forth like you’ve been doing. There are lots of bicoastal marriages these days.”
But I want to be with him all the time.” Anne didn’t even feel like drinking champagne now.