Uptown Girl. Olivia Goldsmith

who lived upstairs, had also helped her put up bookshelves that filled in the recesses on either side of the fireplace. Max was a friend of Bina’s brother and, it turned out, a cousin of Jack’s from Brooklyn and worked on Wall Street. When Kate had heard about the apartment through him they hadn’t known each other well. Kate had rushed over on the day the old tenants moved out and had signed a lease the next afternoon. Max, to whom she would forever be grateful, had been interested in her, but Kate wasn’t that grateful. He was nice and good-looking but they had nothing to talk about, although Max didn’t seem to mind that. And though her father had given her precious little advice about life, he had expressed his philosophy to ‘never crap where you eat’. Kate had interpreted that to mean it was best not to sleep with anyone you worked with, but to paraphrase and extend her father’s concept, she also knew it was best not to crap where you slept, either. While Max was attractive, he didn’t attract her, and she couldn’t be less interested in his Wall Street work. She had managed to handle it all diplomatically, though, and they were good friends as well as good neighbors. Though Max would never need to stop by to borrow a cup of sugar, he might well ask for a cup of coffee, a shot of vodka or, less frequently, a fix-up with some girl Kate knew.

      Kate opened the curtains. It looked like rain. She threw her purse down on the sofa and hurried across to her bedroom. The beauty treatment with Bina had taken more time than she expected and she only had a half-hour before Michael came over. Although she had been cavalier about it with Elliot earlier in the day, Kate was actually a little nervous about bringing Michael over. Introducing a boyfriend to Elliot was like taking him home to meet her family, and she wanted everything to go smoothly.

      Kate’s bedroom was really just a part of the larger room that had been partitioned off. Its biggest disadvantage was the smallness of its closet. Each spring and fall Kate had to pack up the previous season’s clothes and store them in boxes under the bed to make room for the next.

      Kate decided she didn’t have the time to shower, so she selected the Madonna blue sleeveless dress she’d just bought and ran into the bathroom. She had enough time to wash her face, take her hair down, brush the cascades of wavy red that fell below her shoulders and pull out her makeup bag for a quick fix.

      She never wore much makeup. Her skin was pale and she’d finally outgrown the tiny freckles, no bigger than pinpoints, that used to dance across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose – a sort of Irish trail. Now, her face was simply creamy, and most of the time she only bothered with lipstick so that her hair didn’t overpower her oval countenance.

      Admittedly, as a kid, she had hated her freckles and the shape of her head – when her hair was pulled into pigtails, the kids called her egg-head – but with maturity her cheekbones showed, setting off her eyes, and the frame of her hair around her face pleased her. Because she was seeing Michael, she took out her mascara. She couldn’t wear black because it made her blue eyes stand out like marbles in a plate of milk, so she applied the brown wand carefully to her upper and lower lashes. She blinked in the mirror to make sure she wouldn’t smudge and, because it was a special night, she added a little lip gloss.

      She now had only ten minutes before Michael was supposed to arrive, though he was often a little late. That, she’d come to understand, wasn’t because he was disrespectful – Kate hated lateness as a pattern and thought it was a narcissistic trait – but Michael was often so wrapped up in his work and thoughts of his research that he occasionally forgot to get off the subway or overshot the bus stop.

      She smiled at the thought of him. He had a good mind, good hands, and a strong jaw. She liked his silver-rimmed glasses, his earnest peering through them and his dedication to his work.

      She had only just recently slept with him: she wasn’t usually so prim but her affair with Steven had left her more cautious than she had been before. They had met at her friend Tina’s; Tina and Michael worked at the same university. Tina hadn’t ‘fixed them up’ because she hadn’t thought that Michael was Kate’s type, but since Steven Kate wasn’t sure what her ‘type’ ought to be. Michael’s courtship had been slow but steady and when they had finally taken the plunge, she’d been delighted to find he was caring and generous in bed. It seemed as if he was just as taken with her. But this was the point of the relationship where things could go on for a long time without actually moving forward. Kate had spent two years with Steven, a writer, before they’d broken up eight months ago. She’d been shocked and hurt when she realized that he would never want to marry her or possibly anyone else. She had gone slowly with Michael because she didn’t want to spend another year only to let that happen again.

      She sat down on her bed and looked down at her painted toes. For a moment she could even imagine herself envious of Bina, who had her life settled. But she reminded herself that Bina had put in her time with Jack. Kate couldn’t imagine waiting six years for anyone. She knew she wanted children, and would marry just for that. Her life was focused on kids and making their lives better. The work she did with Brian, Clara, Jennifer and the others at Andrew Country Day was satisfying, but, growing up, she’d been denied a normal family of her own and she wanted one. At thirty-one, she wasn’t so old that she had to be frightened of the biological clock, but she had made the decision that she couldn’t afford any more two-year dalliances that merely left her feeling bereft, disappointed and foolish.

      Michael seemed solid. They had not yet discussed exclusivity, but as he called her almost every night and since they saw each other regularly, Kate thought the talk would only be a formality. She wasn’t in a rush and wouldn’t make ultimatums. Still, deep down, she wanted to know her goals were shared.

      Kate slipped into the silk dress and scrambled under the bed for her high-heeled sandals. Black and strappy, they would show off her newly painted toenails. They were killers to walk in, but she didn’t have to walk far to Elliot’s.

      When there was a knock at the door a couple of moments later, Kate was ready. She clicked across the floor and opened the door. But it wasn’t Michael. Max was there holding a bouquet of snapdragons and statice. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘You look great.’

      Max’s smile was adorable, as one of his incisors showed because it had moved up on the tooth next to it. Max was a bit like his incisor: he often tried to push in where he didn’t belong. There was no harm in him, though.

      ‘Thanks.’ Kate smiled briefly, trying to show she didn’t have the time to chat. Max held the flowers without moving.

      ‘Are those for me?’ Kate asked.

      ‘You betcha,’ Max said. ‘The Green Market was open when I walked by. The snapdragons reminded me of your hair. You can’t say no.’

      Kate didn’t and took the bouquet. But sometimes she worried that Max still had a crush on her. She didn’t want to encourage him, nor did she want to be rude. She tapped across the living-room floor to the tiny excuse for a kitchen and fumbled for a vase. Max followed her and stood in the doorway. Kate filled the vase and couldn’t help but smile when she saw the red snaps with the orange centers. ‘I wish I could wear two of these as earrings,’ she joked.

      ‘You don’t need any earrings,’ Max said. ‘You look perfect. And as cool as a cucumber.’

      Kate took the flowers and set them on her small dining table. They did make a pretty spot of color. ‘Thanks, Max,’ she said and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a small imprint of lip gloss.

      Before she could tell him, he asked, ‘Where you off to?’

      ‘Oh, just dinner at Elliot’s.’ Max, an accountant and actuary, occasionally enjoyed talking higher math with Elliot. She hadn’t yet told Max about Michael.

      ‘Well, that dress is wasted on him,’ Max said and, to Kate’s dismay, he sat down. It wasn’t that she had any reason to feel guilty, but she didn’t want Michael to arrive and find another man in her apartment, and to have to introduce them to one another. Michael didn’t seem overly possessive. On the contrary, he seemed a little nervous. But Kate wanted him to feel secure so she also wanted Max to get up and go, although she didn’t want to have to ask him. Michael was already five minutes late but he was sure to