I’ll Take New York. Miranda Dickinson

no doubt ordering everything on the menu. All of them were happily married – even Aunt Ruby, whose courageous husband Uncle Lou had signed up for just shy of forty years of wedded bliss before his heart gave up the battle last year. Sure, they argued, the women of the James family were famous for their feistiness, but history would record generations of long, successful partnerships. Bea had hoped that Otis calling everyone together this evening was a precursor to her name being added to that list. And her family had made no attempt to hide their expectation of his intentions, which – in the light of his absence – made everything a million times worse.

      Grasping her mobile, Bea called Otis for the last time that night.

      ‘Otis, this is it. I don’t know what you’re playing at and, to be honest, I don’t care. I’m done. Don’t call me again.’

      Ending the call, Bea closed her eyes.

       CHAPTER TWO

       Departures Hall, San Francisco International Airport, California

      ‘Are you sure you have everything?’

      ‘I’m sure. All my worldly possessions that didn’t leave for New York in the movers’ van this morning are in my backpack.’ Jake Steinmann forced a smile as the woman beside him dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘Hey Pam, it’s OK.’

      Pam Lomas – Jake’s faithful PA for the past seven years – shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. It’s not OK. It’s not OK that your wife’s given up on you like this. It’s not OK that you have to abandon your whole life because of her latest whim. Can’t you reconsider? You have so much in San Francisco: why leave it all now?’

      Part of Jake agreed with her. It was unfair – but then, everything that had happened in the past month had felt that way. He shouldn’t be the one to leave: as far as he had been concerned their marriage was a happy one. But realistically what choice did he have? Sure, he could stay in his adopted city and wait for Jessica to change her mind. He could carry on, pretending that life was untouched by his wife’s decision to leave him. But he knew, deep down, that to stay in a city in which every street, sidewalk and brick seemed imprinted with her name would be the end of him. Better to nurse a broken heart on the other side of the country.

      ‘New York’s not so bad.’

      ‘It’s the East Coast, Jake! Where you’re just a number in a big city and nobody cares who you are unless you do something for them.’

      ‘I was born there, remember? I may have the West Coast attitude and a better tan now but I’m a New York guy at heart.’ He put his hand on Pam’s shoulder as she let out a loud sob. ‘Don’t worry about me, OK? I’m going to be fine. My family are in the city, my friends from before I met Jess … I won’t be alone.’

      Pam gazed up at him, mascara streaking down her cheeks. ‘Well, I guess I have no choice but to trust you on that. But you’d better call me, every week. I want to know everything. You promise?’

      He had promised, his heart heavier than he had anticipated. Once on the JFK-bound flight, Jake closed his eyes and willed the chasm of loss to close within him. Of course, Pam was right: he wasn’t the one to end his own marriage, so why should he be the one to leave?

      The trouble was, Jessica didn’t seem to see the injustice of the situation. Yesterday they had met for the last time, in a small neighbourhood coffee shop near her office, for Jake to hand over the keys to their Russian Hill house. He had hoped the finality of the act might coax a little understanding from her, might somehow break through the steel-strong walls she had erected around her heart. But even as they made polite small talk about Jake’s plans for his New York relocation, it was clear all Jessica cared about was getting on with her life. Her life – which consisted of nothing changing other than her gaining more closet space in her bedroom and considering the possibility that she might let out the spare room to help pay the bills. Her comfortable job in interior design, the expensive social life she pursued, her Cabriolet and her weekend yacht would all remain. ‘It’s easier this way,’ she had said, as if she were discussing a subject she cared nothing about.

       Easier for you, Jess. Not for me …

      He hated the lightness of her attitude, the way she smiled after every flippant comment, regardless of the pain each one inflicted. He should be glad she wanted to leave him. He should be celebrating …

      And yet, even as he had watched her stride away along Mission Street and out of his life forever, his heart still ached for her. He told himself this was inevitable: after all, only six weeks beforehand he’d thought he had the happiest marriage in the world. I’m still in shock, he decided. It hasn’t sunk in yet …

      But now, as the lights of San Francisco Bay fell away from view through the aircraft windows, it suddenly felt very real. He was leaving the life he had so carefully built over seven years behind him, with no guarantee he could successfully rebuild it on the other side of America.

      I won’t be alone, he had assured Pam as they stood by the departure gate. But now, twenty thousand feet and rising above the Californian coast, Jake Steinmann felt more alone than he ever had before.

       CHAPTER THREE

       Hudson River Books, 8th Avenue, Brooklyn

      Bea looked up at the oversized clock above the counter. Five more minutes and then she was leaving.

      She had known it was Otis calling last night even before the answer machine clicked into action, but she had no intention of picking up. His voice sounded pathetic and insincere as it entered her apartment where she was hiding after the debacle at Stromoli’s:

      ‘Bea – it’s me. I am so sorry. Give me a chance to explain, please? I know I screwed up. You have every right to walk away. But don’t do it until I’ve had a chance to explain. Give me an hour tomorrow and I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I can come to the bookstore. We’ll talk. And you’ll see why I couldn’t be there tonight. I’ll call your family and explain, too. I feel awful, Bea, you have to believe me … Hell, please pick up the phone? I know you’re there …’

      Changed into her faded PJs and huddled up in her favourite chair – the dress she’d expected to be proposed to in screwed into a ball beside her bed – Bea had stared at the answer machine. ‘Go away,’ she told the grey box with its blinking red light.

       ‘Just meet with me tomorrow? I won’t stop calling until you say yes …’

      ‘Leave me alone!’

      ‘I’m not kidding, Bea. If I have to sit outside your apartment night and day I’ll do it …’

      Tired and bruised from the mortifying family dinner, Bea couldn’t bear the thought of Otis turning up in the early hours. As sleep was unlikely anyway, contending with a belligerent boyfriend would definitely ensure she was good for nothing in the morning. Admitting defeat with grudging disappointment, she had answered the phone.

      ‘Fine. I’ll meet with you tomorrow afternoon.’

      ‘Bea – it’s so good to hear your voice …’

      Oh no, Otis, your wounded puppy routine won’t work this time … ‘I’ll be leaving at five p.m. Be there before then or we have no deal.’

      She should have said no last night. But Bea wanted answers – and she wanted to see his face when she challenged him. Now, facing another Otis Greene no-show, she knew it: she had clearly been wrong to trust him. He had let her down. Again.

      ‘Maybe