“I made carob bars!” Edie wandered onto the moonlit terrace, trailed by a tall, broad-shouldered man in jeans and a button-down. He was in his mid-forties with salt-and-pepper hair, and looked shockingly normal next to Edie in her flowing maxidress and Princess Leia buns.
“Thanks!” Avery called from her perch on Baby’s hammock, where she and Jack were sitting in companionable silence, flip-ping through magazines and listening to Avery’s iPod, which was playing a steady stream of John Mayer and Jason Mraz. Owen and his friend Rhys were having an earnest discussion on a pine bench, just out of earshot, and Baby was coming out as soon as she finished cleaning her closet or whatever she was doing in her room. Avery felt surprisingly content. After last night, it was nice to just relax and not have to worry about trying to impress anyone.
“Anyone?” Edie asked hopefully, proffering the plate into the chilly night air. Once she realized there were no takers, Edie placed the plate on the terra-cotta floor and absentmindedly ruffled Jack’s auburn hair.
“Hi,” Jack said uncomfortably. She wasn’t 100 percent sure Edie was aware she wasn’t a Carlyle.
“Hello, darling! You’re the lovely girl who was here for our dinner party a few weeks back!”
“That’s me!” Jack smiled politely, trying to sound enthusiastic. Back when she’d been pretending to date Owen, she’d been over to the Carlyle penthouse and experienced the world’s weirdest intergenerational dinner party.
“Well, we’re not going to bother you chickadees! We’re just taking in the night air!” Edie said, knitting her eyebrows together as if affronted that her adolescent children didn’t want to hang out with her. Behind her, Remington shuffled nervously, smiling politely. “Anyway, Remington was telling me about this fantastic all-night poetry salon in the Village. So we’re going to go to that. I was going to invite you to come.” Edie raised her eyebrow expectantly.
“That’s okay!” Avery said quickly. She was not about to tag along on her mom’s all-night date. How serious was Edie getting with this guy, anyway? She raised an eyebrow, surveying Remington. He was kind of handsome, actually, for someone her mom’s age, and way more normal-seeming than anyone she would have imagined winding up at her mom’s art collaborative. Interesting. Now that she was done at Metropolitan, at least she’d have time to keep tabs on her family.
And turn it into a best-selling novel?
“Have it your way.” Edie shook her head sadly, causing her heavy wooden necklace to click together loudly. “You kids need to learn to live!” she added. Remington nodded in agreement, picking up the platter of carob bars and following Edie through the French doors and back into the house.
“Sorry about that.” Avery shrugged and pulled out the unopened Corona she’d halfheartedly tried to obscure behind a planter. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Jack took the cold bottle. Instead of opening it, she held it against her head, still trying to get rid of her headache. Surprisingly, she felt better now that she was hanging out at the Carlyles’, even though she was homeless and not sure about her boyfriend anymore. The moon hung over Central Park perfectly, round and full, almost like a set piece. The terrace, with its sweeping view of the park and the fog that was clinging to all the tops of the buildings, felt almost magical.
“Hey!” Baby clattered through the French doors, wearing a pair of Citizen jeans that actually fit her, along with a cool Marc Jacobs–style purple tunic. She still looked hippieish, but less bag lady. “Oh, you’re here.” Baby announced it like a fact, staring at Jack with her wide brown eyes. “And so is he.” Jack followed Baby’s gaze over to the corner of the terrace, where Owen and his friend Rhys were sitting side by side on a pine bench, looking over Central Park. In the almost-darkness, Jack could just make out Owen’s handsome, athletic silhouette. He and Rhys kept bumping their fists together and laughing, involved in some sort of private guy-bonding moment.
“Guys!” Avery called bossily over to them. What could they possibly be up to?
“What?” Owen and Rhys lumbered over together.
“We need more drinks.” Avery smiled. That was the great thing about having an older brother.
Three minutes older. Makes such a big difference.
Just then, the iPod switched from Avery’s party mix to a slower song.
“Oops!” Avery quickly picked up her iPod, embarrassed. It was some cheesy Frank Sinatra song she only listened to by herself.
“‘Strangers in the Night,’” Rhys said. “Leave it on—I like it.”
“Really?” Avery arched an eyebrow. Rhys looked so athletic and masculine, she couldn’t imagine him listening to dorky Frank Sinatra songs.
“Yeah.” Rhys shrugged. Avery scooted over a bit on the hammock to see if Rhys would sit down. “I’m Avery. We’ve never officially met.”
“Rhys.” Rhys stuck his hand out. Avery took it and shook, then leaned back against the hammock.
“Anyone need anything from inside?” Owen asked. Baby shook her head. Avery shook hers as well, then pulled her dark purple Milly sweater closer around her shoulders.
“I’ll come with you!” Jack said, quickly standing up and following Owen inside.
“You cold?” Rhys asked, holding out his royal blue Ralph Lauren letterman-style sweater as an offering.
“Thanks.” Avery took it shyly and wrapped it around her shoulders. It smelled like Ralph Lauren Romance with a slight trace of smoke. She was surprised at how much she liked the smell, and how much she liked that Rhys sat down next to her.
In the corner, Avery noticed Baby sitting cross-legged, petting Rothko and looking perfectly content. Avery sighed and scooted a little bit closer toward Rhys. He smiled back at her. Somewhere inside, she could hear Jack’s laughter, followed by Owen’s dorky-sounding chuckle. He only laughed like that when he was trying to impress someone.
“Strangers in the Night” continued to play and Avery took a deep breath of the crisp fall air. No one was fighting or gossiping or making out or crying. It was so unexpected and weird and beautiful.
Only in New York!