One Summer In New York. Trish Wylie

eating she retrieved a pad and pencils from her luggage and sat herself in the window, with its second-floor view out onto the street. She turned sideways, somehow wedging her long legs into the windowsill, and propped her sketchpad on her knees.

      “You are welcome to pull a chair over,” Ethan tossed out, not in the habit of contorting himself to fit into small spaces.

      “I’m fine, thanks.”

      Unsure what to do with himself, he picked up his tablet to check emails. If he’d been there alone, as planned, he would have gone to bed. It was going to be a busy week.

      He could ask Holly to take her things into the bedroom. Then he could turn off the lights, try to get comfortable on the sofa and hope to fall asleep.

      Yet it was so unusual for him to be in an apartment with someone he craved her company and wanted to prolong it. He wasn’t ready for her to retreat to separate quarters.

      How crazy was the idea that kept popping into his mind?

      As Holly drew, he began telling her more about Aunt Louise. About the cruel medical condition that was taking away pieces of her.

      “How did your family’s company get started?” she asked, while working on her drawing.

      “With nothing. When my father and Uncle Mel were in their twenties they saved their money from doing carpentry work until they had enough to buy the South Boston apartment they grew up in. Then they bought the whole building. And then the one next to it.”

      “That takes focus and determination. Hmm...” She shook her head.

      “Hmm—what?”

      She kept her eyes on her pad. “It’s just that nobody I’ve ever known has done anything like that.”

      “After my uncle married Louise, she helped them grow the business. My father died twenty-five years ago. Then Aunt Louise took over as CEO when Uncle Mel died five years ago.”

      Ethan had only vague memories of his father. But he so missed the uncle who had become a second father to him. Melvin Benton had been a smart leader. A just and fair man.

      “Uncle Mel would have agreed that it is time for Aunt Louise to step down. Before industry gossip sullies her reputation as the competent successor to his legacy that she was.”

      “What is it that your aunt wants you to do before she’ll agree to retire?”

      Oh, so Holly had been paying close attention earlier, when he’d started to tell her about Aunt Louise’s request and then stopped himself.

      “She wants to see me established in my personal life. For me to have what she and Uncle Mel had. She is waiting for me to be engaged to be married.”

      “And now you are?”

      “So to speak...”

      “There’s no ‘so to speak.’ You’re either engaged or you’re not.”

      “Not necessarily.”

      Why had he started this? He’d revealed more than he should have.

      “Tell me,” she persisted, without looking up.

      “I would rather talk about you. You have come to New York with no work here at all? This city can be a very tough place.”

      “I know. But I do have some people to contact. You’re probably thinking my coming to New York was a really reckless bet. But if I didn’t do it now I never would have.”

      When Ethan glanced down to the inbox on his tablet his eyes opened wide at the latest email. It was the talent agency, apologizing for contacting him so late in the evening and asking for the duration of his booking for Penelope Perkins, his soon-to-be “fiancée.” Because, the representative explained, Mrs. Perkins had just informed them of her pregnancy. She expected to be available for a few months but, after that her altered appearance might be an issue for any long-term acting assignment.

      Good heavens. Yes, Mrs. Perkins’s blossoming pregnancy was going to be an issue! That would be too much to disguise from Aunt Louise. First an engagement and then a pregnancy right away? Not to mention the fact that Penelope was apparently Mrs. Perkins. And a certain Mr. Perkins was be unlikely to be agreeable to such an arrangement.

      The veins in Ethan’s neck pulsed with frustration. As if he didn’t have enough to do! Now the engagement plan he’d worked so hard to devise was in jeopardy. Could he choose someone else and get an appointment with her in time? He quickly tabbed through the photos of the other actresses on the website. They were all of a suitable age. Any one of them might do.

      Then he glanced up to lovely Holly, sketching in the windowsill.

      What if...?

      He’d been exchanging pleasant conversation with Holly all evening. Why not her? It might work out quite nicely. Perhaps they could have an easy, friendly business partnership based on mutual need. He had a lot he could offer her.

      Of course the fact that he found her so interesting was probably not a plus. It might add complication. But who was to say that he wouldn’t have been attracted to Penelope Perkins, or some other actress he’d chosen?

      A sense of chemistry would be palpable to Aunt Louise and anyone else they would encounter. It would make them believable as a couple. And he certainly wouldn’t be acting on any impulses. It wasn’t as if he was open to a genuine relationship.

      A fake fiancée was all he was looking for. Holly was as good a bet as any.

      He gazed at her unnoticed for a moment. She turned to a new page on her sketchpad. Then, when she asked him again about whether or not he was engaged, he finally told her the truth.

      He picked up the beer he had been drinking with the pizza. Carefully peeling off the label that circled the neck of the bottle, he rolled it into a ring. And then stepped over to Holly in front of the window. Where anyone in New York could be walking by and might look up to see them.

      “I was intending to hire an actress,” he explained. “But I think Aunt Louise would like you. You remind me of her. There is something very...real about you.”

      He got down on one knee. Held up the beer label ring in the palm of his hand.

      She gasped.

      “Holly, I do not suppose you would... If you might consider... Would you, please? Can you pretend to marry me?”

       CHAPTER THREE

      “HEAR ME OUT,” Ethan said, still on one knee.

      Holly had been so stunned by his proposal that moments stood still in time. It was as if she watched the scene from outside her body.

      In an Upper East Side apartment in New York an elegant man with wavy brown hair waited on bended knee after proposing to his dark-haired intended. Would she say yes?

      Holly couldn’t remember if she had dreamt of a moment like this when she was a little girl. A dashing prince, the romantic gesture of kneeling, white horse at the ready. She’d probably had those fantasies at some point but she couldn’t recall them. They were buried under everything else.

      Most of Holly’s memories were of hard times.

      Growing up, it had been her alarm clock that had snapped her out of any dreams she might have had. The clock had made her spring her up quickly to check if her mother had woken up and was getting dressed for work. Or if she wasn’t going to get out of bed. Or hadn’t made it home at all during the night. Leaving Holly to scrounge together breakfast and a sack lunch for her and Vince.

      No, Holly hadn’t had much time for fairy-tale dreams. She’d been proposed to before. After all, she’d been married. But Ricky’s offer had been about as heartfelt as their marriage had been. It had been on a sweaty, humid day in his beat-up old truck and it had gone something