Fourth of July 2010. It was 89 degrees and 7:00PM New York time. Felix walked through the Manor house he had bought for Ashley surveying the day’s work by the skilled laborers. Reclaimed wood from various old Brooklyn buildings had been brought in to reconstruct the original beams and joists. Because the wood was hard oak and literally ancient, it took time to faithfully rebuild what had been accidentally torn down. Abe told Louis earlier in the day that many of the oak beams came from an old livery stable turned private residence on Court Street that had finally been torn down in order to make way for a Banana Republic clothing store. There was a deep sense of loss when he conveyed the news. Little by little forgotten parts of New York were being chipped away in the name of progress. The biggest innovator or demolisher was Robert Moses depending on your perspective.
The air was humid and Felix quickly sweat down his Armani shirt and slacks. As he wandered from room to room he tried hard to put himself in Ashley’s shoes and genuinely take in the craftsmanship and appreciate the history that was infused in the old house. The molding and the fleur de lis and the old wallpaper whispered things to him that, perhaps, he had never experienced before. It was not anything that he could honestly put into words. Studying the architecture and the brilliant craftsmanship of the old house made him suddenly appreciate the kind of artisanship that brought the house to life, gave it character and a kind of eccentricity…just like Ashley. The epiphanies came quick and wordless. It was a sudden burst of knowing. A quick flash of awareness and being alive just as the house was alive in a hibernating state. Felix felt an overwhelming need to revive it at any cost---down to the drawer pulls and square headed iron nails that held the planks of the sub-floor in place.
Ashley was visibly absent for the press conference earlier in the day. The whole slant to the story was that Felix had taken it upon himself to rebuild a castle for the love of his life. Louis handled it with great aplomb and manufactured the story that Ashley was absent because she was overseas collecting various authentic materials to help restore the grand mansion. The broadcast on the local evening news made Felix look like a hero, a community activist and protector of the city’s history. Somehow he didn’t quite feel like a hero. He felt lost. His girlfriend was in London with another woman. He pulled out is cell phone and dialed her number.
“Hey, Felix.” He heard her answer through the tinny, crackling amplifier. She sounded a million miles away.
“Hey. How’s your vacation?” He asked sweetly.
“Felix, it’s 1:00AM here.” Ashley replied sounding tired.
“Oh, I’m sorry---did I wake you?”
“No. But I’m about to turn in. What’s going on?” She said heavily.
“The Press conference went over really well.” He said cheerfully.
“Oh, Great---Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sure you guys did a great job.” She said.
“Yeah, Mayor Mike came out and everything. Listen, when are you going to be back because I really want your input on this. I mean, the house is intricate and amazing. I want to find authentic materials and things to reconstruct---“
“I’m going to be here for a while.” Ashley interrupted.
“How long?” Felix asked as he fidgeted with a rotten piece of molding that had fallen from the east wing ceiling.
“About three months.” She replied.
“Three months!” He exclaimed. “Look, are you moving to London with her. What the hell is going on? I bought the fucking house. If you don’t want it I’m selling it.”
“I do want the house, Felix. I love the house. I do. I just…I found these paintings at the Tate and they’re…I don’t know, I can’t describe how they make me feel but they’re important and I want to study them and I need a good amount of time to do that.”
“Are you blowing me off?” Felix said angrily.
“I thought you said the house was mine.” Ashley said pointedly.
“Are you going to be with her for three months?” He shot back.
“Her? She has a name. She’s not a cat, you know. No. Chelsea has to be back in New York by the end of the week to finish her article.” She replied.
“I’m flying in.” He threatened. “If you’re going to do this then do it to my face.”
“I’m living my life, Felix, and you can not control me!” She said raising her voice. “I am not ‘doing’ anything to you. You make your choices and you have to be responsible for how you feel about those choices.” She said and she hung up.
“Ashley! Ashley!” Felix said and he threw his phone on the floor where it shattered into several pieces.
“That’s gonna cost you.” A voice said from the darkness.
“Who’s there?” Felix said startled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump.” The female voice said. “Louis told me I’d find you here. I’m Antonia.” She purred as she moved into a work light. She was petite with short dark hair and a round face. Her eyes were as black as coal and she looked French. She was in a pair of hiking shorts and leather sandals. Felix wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He said embarrassed. He leaned down and picked up the pieces of his broken cell phone. “What can I do for you?” He said softly.
“I work with the New York Historical society…in the fine art division.” She began. “And earlier today as the workmen were removing part of the original rotted lattice work behind the pitted plaster they came across this old wooden draughtsman’s box. Probably the property of the original owner.” She explained.
“Mmm, hmmm.” He grunted still reeling from his angry outburst.
“There were old photographs inside. They were of Mr. Rhys standing next to one of his paintings.” She continued. “Of course they’re old black and whites, like Carte de visits so the clarity is a bit muddled.”
“And what does this have to do with me?” He asked distracted.
“Well. It just adds even more value to the property. I’m not sure how Mr. Rhys fits into art history and more importantly New York City History, but I am now assigned to make sure that no anachronisms, materials or otherwise, are used to renovate this house.” She added.
“Are you the History police?” He said sarcastically.
“I am.” She replied. “I am also here to help you research and find the correct materials in order to restore this place to its gilded age grandeur.” She smiled.
Something about how Antonia grinned at that moment seemed to alleviate Felix’s frustration. Suddenly the fireworks in Prospect Park and the East River began take over the night sky and infuse the moment with a kind of celebration, excitement and even wonder.
“You’re going to help me?” He asked again for reassurance.
“Yes. I’ve been assigned to help you. This is a huge undertaking. I’m not even sure where to start. But we will have to start somewhere and I thought this would give us a clue.” She handed an old cardboard photograph to him. On the edges he could make out some of the details of the artist’s studio. It seemed to enliven and even challenge him.
“I’m unreachable.” He said chuckling holding the pieces of his phone. “Want to go for a beer?” He asked.
“I’m parched.” Antonia replied and they walked through the house and the yard through crowds of kids with sparklers and pockets of inebriated adults to a neighborhood pub.
Ashley and Chelsea had just returned the rental car when Felix called. Chelsea dropped the keys in the lock box at the parking lot leaving Ashley on the street to finish her conversation.
“Who was that?” Chelsea asked softly as she returned.
“My ex.” Ashley sighed.
“You have an ex?” Chelsea said feeling uneasy.
“Oh, no, we were never married. An ex-boyfriend. He’s a piece of work.” Ashley said shaking it off.
“Oh.” Chelsea replied and the tone of her voice gave way to a different subject.
“What?” Ashley asked. Chelsea shook her head as her cheeks flushed. “What?” She pressed.
“Nothing. I just…I never knew you had an ex is all.” Chelsea said trying to dodge an uncomfortable subject.
“Why is that hard to believe?” Ashley asked unsure whether or not to feel slighted.
“I just…I can’t picture you with anyone else but me.” Chelsea said in a fragile tone.
The way she said it was incredibly endearing and Ashley felt immediately drawn to her. As they walked arm and arm into the foyer of the Hotel, they were greeted by the Concierge.
“Ms. Barrett?” An older gentleman called.
“Yes?” Chelsea replied.
“There has been an upgrade to your suite. Please see the front desk.” He said in his clipped British accent. The two women were greeted by a hotel representative.
“Hello, my name is Mrs. Chamberlain and I’m pleased to inform you that Mr. Burton has generously moved you both into one of the luxury suites on the top floor.” She said. “Follow me.”
“What about our stuff?” Ashley asked.
“Oh, One of the chambermaids carefully gathered your belongings and moved them to the new room.” She beamed as they all stepped onto the lift. In the elevator Mrs. Chamberlain handed Chelsea and Ashley their own keycards.
“This suite comes with a fully stocked bar, access to a car and driver, all the amenities one could wish for.” The woman explained.
“Do we get to have tea with the Queen?” Ashley asked in a smartass tone. Chelsea jabbed her in the side with an elbow. “Ow!”
Mrs. Chamberlain chuckled pleasantly more out of duty than actual humor. How many times had she heard that from a crass American.
“And here we are.” She opened the door with her master key and as the door swung open Chelsea and Ashley’s mouths dropped. The ceilings were twenty feet high, the walls were exposed stone and two exquisitely hand carved walnut canopy beds fitted with luxurious Egyptian linens and fine heavy damask bed curtains cloaked the sleepers in privacy. On the walls hung what looked to be unicorn tapestries. If they were not the real thing then they were just as good as the medieval ones hanging at the Cloisters. The room had a balcony with twelve-foot high French doors. The windows were just as grand. Beautiful satin curtains could be drawn to cut out the spill of light from the Eye and other high rise buildings.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Mrs. Chamberlain said. “Oh, and Mr. Burton left this for you.” She placed a note in Chelsea’s hand and quietly slipped away.
Dear Chelsea,
When you get this note please call me immediately. It is urgent I speak with you. I don’t care what time it is. I have been given an extraordinary assignment and I must speak with you before I leave. I hope you enjoy the room.
Very Sincerely,
Scott
Chelsea folded the note and picked up the stationary phone on the credenza.
“What are you doing? It’s 2:00 o’clock in the morning.” Ashley said.
“He said to call him.” Chelsea replied sheepishly. Ashley sank down on one of the beds. Her eyes fixed on an intricate design at the top of the canopy.
“Hey Scott. It’s Chelsea….Yeah, it’s beautiful. It’s astonishing. You shouldn’t have, really---but thank you!” Ashley heard her say. “It’s really late, though.” Chelsea whispered.
“I can hear you. I’m still here.” Ashley said from her bed.
“Okay, okay…Um, It can’t wait til the morning?” Chelsea asked. She sighed and looked over at Ashley’s bed. “All right. I’ll be down in a minute.” She hung up the phone. Ashley could feel a wave of emotion start to roll over her. She couldn’t understand why. She was not the possessive type. She sat upright and looked at Chelsea who seemed to be wearing shame as a badge.
“I can’t compete.” Ashley said softly and the tears started to roll and her nose started to run.
“What are you talking about?” Chelsea asked startled by her honesty,
“If this is what it takes, I can’t compete. I can only give you what I have and that’s me. I’m all there is.” She said softly.
“You don’t understand. I have to see him.” She said softly.
“It hurts my feelings that you don’t think I count.” Ashley replied and she rolled over and turned her back.
Chelsea slipped out into the hallway and all the feelings she had kept guarded came rushing forth. She heaved with confusion and a kind of grief. She was at a crossroads wondering which path to take. She obviously felt strongly about both Ashley and Scott. If she was carrying Scott’s child, and she was convinced of that truth, perhaps the universe had led her to him. However, she could not remember being intimate with him and was unaware of what that experience was really like. She did not have the magical moments and an entire past existence tugging at her as she did with Ashley. And, although she and Ashley had never actually made love she already knew what it would feel like. It would be all consuming. It would be the mindful merging of body, mind and spirit. Her Midwestern conventional upbringing seemed to override what her heart appeared to be craving. Marriage is an institution born and bred of business arrangements. As long as there are structures and rules in the agreement, all parties can get along. Those sentiments surprised her. Were they her own thoughts, she wondered. But what of love? What of the rules? Are there any? What of being annihilated by the thing that stirs that inexplicable passion? What of being submerged completely in the eddies and tides of sheer ecstasy? What of identity? All of these questions churned in Chelsea’s head as she tried to catch her breath and make her way to the hotel lobby. She had been in this predicament before and she could feel it but she could not put her finger on its origin. It was a remnant. A dull, lingering, feeling that touched her edges. She found a Kleenex in her pocket and quickly dabbed her eyes. Just then the elevator doors opened and there he was…holding a bouquet of freshly cut baby blue hydrangeas. He smiled endearingly. How did he know they were her favorite flower? Where did he find them on such short notice? Was this an elaborate plan, a grand courtship to win her over? She wondered and the questions were sharp at their tip.
“Em, you must be tired. I really appreciate you taking a moment to see me. How---how are you feeling?” He asked as he led her to a bevy of puffy chairs in the hotel’s lobby. As she looked around the hotel patrons coming back from a night of clubbing and pubbing moved in slow motion. The bustling murmur of youth faded into some unknown vault. She could hear her own heart and it sped up as she prepared to speak.
“I’m fine. A bit tired.” She said softly.
“I’ll be brief. I’ve taken an assignment and I leave in about 5 hours. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. You see, I was the equivalent of a navy seal in the royal forces when I was younger. And now I have the opportunity to embed myself in Afghanistan and report on the British forces as well as the US forces still there.” He said cheerfully.
“That’s great. Um, wow…how long will you be gone?” She asked a bit upended by the news.
“I’m not sure.” He replied.
“It’s dangerous.” She said.
“Very.” He replied.
“Well, that’s great---congratulations. That’s, like…real journalism.” She said.
“Yeah, yeah, the BBC finally threw me a bone.” He said taking her in.
“So…what is this all about?” Chelsea said confused.
“I wanted you to wait for me.” He said softly.
“I haven’t made a decision yet.” She whispered.
“I know. But if you do decide to go through with it…I wanted you to know that I will be back…and I will be ready…and I won’t ever forget you.” He replied.
Chelsea took in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?” He asked as he checked his watch.
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind when I make my decision.” She said and she got up to leave.
“Chelsea. I was hoping I’d convince you to keep it.” He said anxiously.
“Yeah, well…you’re going to go get your ass shot off and so the probability of me being a single mom is pretty high. And I have to be honest. I don’t want to be a single mom. I want a partner.” She walked over to the elevator bank and she could see him standing there deflated and confused. She smiled weakly and disappeared behind the metal doors. As the elevator ascended she could feel the weight of her body. She felt proud of herself. There was a rush of relief. She was not going to settle. She was not going to repeat a pattern. She was going to try something new.
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