Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In about twenty minutes I can be in city center and in the middle of all the urban chaos. Tall buildings made of glass and steel, all kinds of flashing neon signs, CDTA busses, yellow cabs, and people who would rather drive over you as wait ten seconds while you cross the street.

That’s why I still lived in Potter’s Falls. While I preferred than sanity of the suburbs, I loved all the amenities Albany had to offer. One of those amenities was the Pump Station, a restaurant and bar right on the Hudson. It had been the actual pump station for the city of Albany way back when and now hosted some of the best food and local alcohol in the area. This is where Girls Night usually took place.

And this is where I found myself four days before my three month anniversary with Dylan, bemoaning the state of our “relationship” in my musty wine. Winnie, Annemarie, and I had opted to sit in the lounge section and ordered appetizers versus real dinners. It was cheaper and no one really felt like eating anyway. Especially me.

“I’m not even sure he’s serious about me,” I said. “We talk on the phone every night but we haven’t had a real date since the first one when we met.”

“Maybe he’s busy,” Annemarie suggested. “It is tax season after all.”

I wasn’t convinced. Dylan wasn’t the only CPA in the Capital area and his firm was rather large. His caseload couldn’t be that big, right?

“Did you agree to see each other exclusively?” Winnie asked.

“No, but I don’t think there is anyone else. I’m not even sure I want to see him exclusively.”

“Look, from my perspective it seems like Dylan isn’t into anything more than a fling,” Winnie said. “You two haven’t, you know, flung yet, right?”

“Win! No! Who do you think you’re talking to!” I exclaimed a little too loudly, causing the other patrons to look at me strangely. “There will be no flinging, as you put it,” I said quieter. “I just don’t get it,” I said, slouching in my seat.

Winnie sighed. “It’s not like we didn’t see this coming.” Winnie George was my best friend forever, no trade backs. We met in the first grade in the main office where we’d both been sent for playing rough on the playground. We both conned our way out of a punishment that day and have been cooking up schemes to get into and out of trouble ever since. Winnie was the proprietress of Telling Yarns, a craft store on Orchard Street in the Falls.

“I know, I know.” I stared at the fireplace a moment.

Annemarie shook her head. “Want me to get any dirt from the salon?” Annemarie Sheldon was another of my girls that I’d met in the sandbox. We drifted apart after high school, mostly due to the fact that I went on to higher education while Annemarie followed in her family’s footsteps and stopped after vocational school. She was second in command at Up Dos, a trendy salon where the very young and very old alike went for a wash and set. I ran into her one day when Angie, my usual stylist, was on vacation. Annemarie always had the best gossip, mostly from Falls veterans and those with city connections.

“Yes, definitely pump the locals for gossip. I’ll take anything at this point,” I said.

Just then my cell phone chirped from my purse. I fished it out and saw it was Dylan.

“Hey you! Tried to get you at home and you’re obviously not there.”

“I’m having a Girls’ Night in the city. What’s up?” I hit the speakerphone button so Annemarie and Winnie could have the benefit of listening in.

“I just miss you. I have some time to myself for a bit and thought you’d want to catch a movie and have dinner.”

Tempting. I looked to my friends for assistance. They both shrugged, leaving the decision to me. Thanks, girls!

“Where did you have in mind?” I asked, hoping that would determine my answer.

“I was thinking Ruby Tuesdays,” Dylan replied.

“Sure.” May as well. I loved Ruby Tuesdays and it was nice to have some Dylan time.

“Okay. Meet me at the one in Mohawk in an hour. Later babes.”

I put my cell phone back in my purse. “Hate to leave you two, but I have a date.”

Winnie raised an eyebrow. “About time! You’ve only been with Dylan how long?”
“Ha ha ha, Win. I’ll call you guys tomorrow okay?”

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” I asked. I had unlocked my apartment and had the door cracked just enough so that Dylan could get a tempting view in.

“I’d love to come in, but I have an early day tomorrow,” Dylan said, leaning casually against the wall near the door.

“Aw, c’mon,” I said in my most pouty voice.

“Next time, I promise,” he said, inching closer. “Have I let you down yet?” he said in an almost whisper, so close I could smell his aftershave. He flashed his million-dollar smile. There went my knees. I prayed gravity would be on my side.

“Of course you haven’t,” I replied, forgetting that this was technically our second date in three months. “Call me tomorrow?”

“You betcha, doll,” he said, quickly brushing his lips with mine before he turned to leave.

I went inside and locked up for the night. I changed into my favorite warm up pants and a tank top and put some popcorn in the microwave. While the microwave hummed and the corn began to pop, I checked my messages. One was from Kathy, cursing my answering machine and asking me to call her at home. Probably some lovelorn client wasn’t getting any and it was somehow my fault. I’d call her later. The next message was from Winnie inviting me to “the biggest sale ever” at Maurices and she’d be by to pick me up at nine. Duly noted. Message number three was from Dylan, saying I was in the restroom at the moment and he missed me terribly. Awww! What a sweetheart! The last message was from my mother.

“Loretta, it’s Mom. Listen,” and then she paused for what felt like thirty-two hours as if I was really supposed to be listening to something when in actuality she had probably forgot what she wanted to tell me. “Okay, your father and I were wondering if you’d like to come home for the weekend. I’ve got your room all ready. Just let me know. You know I don’t like you living in that apartment all by yourself. Also, we read your latest article in the Sentinel and your father wanted me to tell you to find out if you can do less high-profile stuff. Albany can be dangerous and I don’t like you doing stories about the city. Okay, call me. Love you!”

My parents live in eastern Florida. They moved there from Potter’s Falls shortly after I graduated from college. Mom seems to forget that she’s not ten minutes away and thinks coming home for the weekend is still an option. She also seems to forget that coming home for the weekend now requires time off of both my jobs and money that my landlord would rather have. They kept up their subscription to the Sentinel after they moved and the article Mom was referencing was one I’d done on the improvement of crime in a particular neighborhood. What she didn’t know was my editor isn’t stupid and sent me with an escort when I did my interviews.

The microwave beeped and I transferred the popcorn to a medium sized mixing bowl. I took a Coors Light from the fridge and brought my snack into the living room, where I surfed the channels until I found something suitable to watch. I settled on the Discovery Channel and a show about the pyramids.

Just as I was getting ready to bail on the show, my phone rang.

“Sorry to call so late but I got my network going and I have some gossip I think you need to know,” Annemarie said, practically breathless with excitement over what she’d learned.

“Okay, spill it,” I said, turning the volume down on the television.

“I called Angie and she said her sister Alice works with Dylan’s mom at the Falls hospital. She said Alice said Dylan’s mom raved about Dylan’s new girlfriend.”

Funny, I hadn’t met Dylan’s parents yet.

“Keep going,” I said, not liking where this was heading.

“Turns out her name is Chelsea McIntosh, she’s 22” – ouch – “and going to U of Albany for – get ready for this – communications.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Although, it’s nice not being the cradle robber this time.”

“It gets better!” Annemarie was practically gushing now.

“I’m the third wheel in my own relationship and you can find a silver lining? By all means share,” I said, wondering what she could possibly have to tell me that would make me feel better.

“I guess she just landed a big time internship,” Annemarie reported. “And you’ll never guess where!”

Oh, I bet I could. With the way my luck was running, I was very sure I knew where.

“Let me guess, at the Sentinel?”

“Yes! Oh! Yikes, sorry Loretta,” Annemarie said when she realized what she’d said.
“It’s okay. The Sentinel is a pretty big paper. Who’s to say we’d even be on the same team? I won’t worry until I cross that bridge, if I do at all. Thanks, Annie. I appreciate the sleuthing.”