Daisy Tucker and Mr. NYC novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Loft

In a Tribeca loft she agrees to the ground rules, calls her father, and starts her night job, where the lobby portrait shows her husband is the chairman.

By four in the morning I was standing in a kitchen bigger than my father's barn.

It had a stove with eight burners and a refrigerator that hummed.

"This is yours for now," Rhodes said, and opened a door.

The guest room had a bed the size of a truck bed, a window full of rooftops and a bathroom with a tub on feet.

My duffel had come with us.

The umbrella woman had handed it to a paramedic, who had handed it to a nurse, who had handed it to Rhodes.

It sat on the white floor.

"The surgery went well," Rhodes said. "He's in the ICU. They'll tell us more at noon."

"I'm glad."

"You saved his life."

"Anybody could have."

"Nobody did," he said, flat, like it was a number he had checked.

He leaned against the doorframe with his sleeves pushed up.

He looked tired in a way that was almost handsome.

"Rules," I said. "Before I sleep. Your grandfather asked for this, you said."

"Yes."

"What exactly did he say?"

Something moved in his jaw.

"He said he wanted to see me settled," Rhodes said. "I'd rather not go through it again tonight."

I let it go.

It was four in the morning and I had gone to a wedding in a coat that smelled of deli.

"Rules," he agreed. "One. When Amos is well, we end it."

"A quiet annulment, with a lawyer I trust."

"Two. Nobody knows until then, because he's sick and the people around us are not kind."

"Fine."

"Three. Anything you need, you ask me."

"Four," I said. "Nothing from your wallet."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I have a job lined up," I said. "I'll earn my own."

"Your job."

"Night cleaning crew. My cousin got me on. Starts tonight at nine."

"Willa, you don't have to."

"Rhodes," I said. "I came here for a reason."

He studied me.

Then, to my surprise, he nodded.

"All right. Where?"

"A big office tower on Sixth Avenue."

For a second he hesitated, torn between two choices.

"That's a big building," he said. "Get some sleep."

He closed the door softly.

I sat on the edge of the bed with the ring still on my finger.

It had a little scratch on the underside.

It felt like it had been worn for a long time by someone who talked with her hands.

I took out my phone and called home.

It was two in the morning in Wyoming.

My father picked up on the first ring, because he sleeps in his boots in November.

"Willa? Honey? You get there?"

"I got there, Daddy."

"Your cousin put you up?"

"Not exactly."

I told him about the old man.

I told him about the sidewalk and the counting.

He said, "That's my girl," in a voice that went wobbly.

Then I told him the rest.

There was a very long quiet on the line.

I heard the stove ticking in the kitchen at home.

"You married him," my father said.

"For his granddad. It's temporary."

"Honey, you've known the man for an hour."

"I've known cows for less."

"That's," my father said, and stopped, and tried again. "That's not how it works with cows either."

I laughed and then my throat closed up.

"How's the bank?" I asked.

He didn't answer fast enough.

"Daddy."

"Same letter," he said. "Fifty-eight thousand by January fifteenth. I'll sell the south pasture if I have to."

"You will not," I said. "That's why I'm here."

"Willa..."

"I'll send the first check by the end of the month," I said, and hung up before I could hear him cry.

I slept for six hours.

Rhodes was gone when I woke.

On the kitchen counter there was a note in square handwriting that said, "Amos is stable. I'll see you tonight."

Under it was a metro card.

I took the card and left the note where it was.

I took the subway to Sixth Avenue and came up the stairs into a wall of glass and wind.

The tower went up and up until it shaved the clouds.

I was too busy looking up to read the sign on the front.

I went in through the service entrance at eight fifty-five with my canvas coat over my arm.

A guard pointed me to the freight elevator.

But I took a wrong turn and came out in the main lobby.

It was all marble, silent and gold.

On the wall behind the desk hung a portrait, three feet tall, lit like a church.

A dark-haired man in a charcoal suit looked out of it with no smile.

The brass plate under it said, "RHODES HARGROVE. CHAIRMAN AND CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER."

I touched the ring through my coat.

I had married my boss.

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