Miranda Dickinson

I’ll Take New York


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of him as soon as possible. Provided you have no objection – or, to put it more precisely – regardless of your objections.

      Jake had half-expected Jessica to see her lawyer within a month of his relocation to New York, but a day after? Even for his headstrong ex, that was fast. He wondered if she had met someone else already, the thought twisting his stomach before he quickly dismissed it. Whether she had or not, there was no point in torturing himself. The lawyer’s letter was enough to hurt him.

      He groaned and threw the brown envelope across the polished cherry wood floor of his new apartment. Divorce papers were the last thing he needed today.

      His phone buzzed and, turning away from the offending envelope, he walked to the window as he answered the call.

      ‘Jake Steinmann …’

      A familiar voice yelled back. ‘Jake-a-a-a-yyy! How’s it hanging, dude?’

      He rubbed his eyes and looked out at the dreary March day. Williamsburg might be an up-and-coming neighbourhood, but today it appeared more down-and-out. ‘Hey, bro.’

      ‘You sound like death,’ his brother observed.

      ‘And you still haven’t learned tact, Edward. Tell Rosie she has more work to do on you.’

      Ed’s chuckle made Jake smile, despite his mood. But then his big brother had always possessed an annoying ability to do that. ‘Rosie loves me for who I am. That’s why she’s planning to keep me around for a while.’

      ‘Good for her. How are the wedding plans?’ The mention of the ‘w’ word in the light of today’s unwelcome mail made Jake wince as he said it.

      ‘Fancy a beer?’

      ‘That good, huh?’

      Ed lowered his voice. ‘I’m going out of my mind here, J-Man. I’m not kidding: if Dad tries to force any more random relatives onto our list, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Did you even know we had a Great Aunt Eunice?’

      ‘No, I didn’t. Are you sure Dad isn’t smuggling in his crazy golfing buddies under assumed names?’

      ‘It’s possible. That man will be the death of me.’

      Jake smiled at his brother’s frustration. ‘Hey, look at it this way – at least Dad’s getting into the spirit of the Steinmann–Duncan nuptials. It wasn’t so long ago he was convinced you were gay …’

      Ed’s groan was identical to Jake’s earlier utterance. There was one thing to be said for the Steinmann brothers of New York: they knew how to groan. But then groaning was a Steinmann clan survival tool – and with a family like theirs, every verbal protest was precious.

      Jake knew what his brother had suffered from their father’s ignorance. Ed’s decision to shun the Steinmann family tradition of psychiatry in order to train as a florist hadn’t been well received by their father. In fact, it was true to say that had Ed Steinmann announced he was growing his hair, becoming a Liberal and moving to a hippy commune in Goa his father would have taken the news better. For years Joe Steinmann had mocked his middle son’s chosen profession, in public and in private: at the annual Steinmann Christmas gathering, at birthdays and anniversaries, graduations and summer holidays in the family’s lake house in upstate New York. No matter how many women Ed dated (and there were many), no matter how successful his career, all Joe Steinmann saw was his middle son defying his true calling. Never mind that the prospect of Ed Steinmann as a psychiatrist, counselling the great and good of New York, had a high probability of ending in abject disaster. Never mind that Ed’s idea of compassion was a night of beers and a good baseball game. For years, Joe could only see the betrayal he perceived in Ed’s actions and not the man his son was becoming.

      Rosie Duncan had changed all that. Even though Jake had long before moved his practice to San Francisco to be with Jessica, he had seen the change in his brother beginning when Ed had confided that his feelings for ‘a specific someone’ had started to grow. Of course, Jake had known immediately who it was: on his trips back to New York, the way Ed’s face lit up whenever he mentioned Rosie’s name had given more away than he’d intended. Working together in the Upper West Side florists’ store Rosie had inherited from an old Polish man (who by all accounts was legendary), every story Ed relayed to his brother seemed to include the confident English woman.

      The details of how they’d finally got together were sketchy in Jake’s mind as he considered it now – although this was probably due to the empty, Jessica-shaped ache that currently robbed his head of pretty much everything else. However it had happened, Jake knew that he had never seen Ed so at peace, so completely in love and so permanently happy before. In turn, Rosie had charmed Joe from their first meeting and it was almost as if through her eyes he was able to see his middle son for the first time. Jake respected Rosie for that almost as much as he did for the change she had wrought in his brother. He had a lot to thank his soon-to-be sister-in-law for.

      ‘Threaten to set your fiancée on Dad,’ Jake suggested. ‘If anyone can rein him in, it’s Rosie.’

      ‘Ha. I’ll mention it to her, maybe. But I’m serious about that drink, Jakey. I haven’t seen you since you came back and I miss my little bro. Besides, I need to get out of Kowalski’s for a while. What with the wedding plans and Marnie’s swollen ankles this place is threatening to become Oestrogen Central. Ow!

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘Rosie hit me … What? I’m on the phone, baby … Really? J-Man, my beautiful wife-to-be wants to speak to you … Passing her across now …’

      ‘Hi Jake.’ The soothing tone of Rosie’s English accent seemed to reach down the phone line to hug him and instantly Jake began to relax. ‘Welcome home.’

      ‘Hey, sis-in-law-to-be. Just how crazy is my brother making you?’

      Rosie’s groan was a good one: she would fit right in to the Steinmann family. ‘Between you and me, on a scale of one to ten he’s almost reached eleven. Please take him out for a bit? I need to try to smooth things over with your dad and Ed isn’t helping.’

      ‘Well, all right. But only because it’s you.’

      ‘Thank you, you’re a star! Listen, how are you? How’s the new home?’

      ‘Still new. And quiet. And the removal guys seem to have mislaid my coffee machine somewhere between San Fran and here.’

      ‘Hang in there, you’ll find it.’ There was a definite pause. ‘Have you heard any more from Jess?’

      Jake stiffened his spine against the sinking feeling his almost-ex-wife’s name caused nowadays. ‘I heard from her today, actually. That is, I heard from her lawyer.’

      ‘Oh Jake, no! I’m so sorry. I know it’s clichéd but if you need to talk ’

      He laughed. ‘I’m good. I think maybe me taking Ed out of your hair for a couple hours might be good for both of us.’

      ‘You’re right, it would. But please call me if I can help at all.’

      ‘Thanks, Rosie. I’ll remember that. Put him back on, OK?’

      There was a muffled remark as the phone was passed back to his brother and Jake could picture Ed and Rosie giggling together, surrounded by flowers in their Upper West Side neighbourhood florist store.

      ‘I think I should be worried about the outrageous way my fiancée flirts with you,’ Ed said. ‘What? It’s blatant, Rosie Duncan!’ Jake could hear the amusement in Rosie’s voice as she made a comment in the background, then Ed laughed. ‘She just said if you’d been free when she was single she might have picked a different Steinmann. Cute. So are we going out to play, bro?’

      Jake cast a glance around the bleakness of his new apartment: at the depressing cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked and the bland décor he hadn’t chosen. It didn’t feel like home at