Levon stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m working with Felix Hornsby after all. Two landscapes to start. We’ll see where it goes from there.”
“When did all this happen?” she asked.
“I went to his office, after you left. Told him I wanted to work with him. He made a couple of calls and, like that”—he snapped his fingers—“I was flush.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I needed to eat.”
That would do it. She was glad he came to his senses. “And?”
“And I guess I should thank you for making the introduction.” He bowed in her direction. “And for breaking into my studio and showing my work without my consent. At the time, I was worried I’d allowed goats on my roof.”
“Goats on your roof?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
He gave them both a hug, smiling broadly, before striding away. The old Levon was back.
“Strange man.” Oliver shook his head as Levon disappeared into the crowd. “Let’s just hope his English skills improve soon.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
November 1974
Overnight, the scare Virginia had at the defunct school of art faded slightly. The sound was probably rats scurrying around. Not a person. As a matter of fact, she’d seen several large rats scrounging for food around the terminal’s garbage cans. In her head, she replayed the scene. Had those been footsteps? No, just scurrying. What about the bang on the door? Just an old paint can that had gotten knocked over by a rodent.
Virginia stumbled out of bed and into Finn’s brightly lit kitchen, where Ruby sat eating a bowl of cornflakes. Finn poured her coffee without saying a word, knowing that it took her ten minutes before she was fully cognizant. Xavier tossed the newspaper on the table, and they each took a section. “Are we ready for Turkey Day?”
That’s right. It was Thanksgiving. When Finn had suggested last weekend that they all go to a restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner, Virginia insisted on cooking instead. She wanted to give Ruby a traditional holiday, as a way to prove that they were still a family, even if they were missing her father. At the same time, drumming up a feast was a perfect way to thank Finn and Xavier for letting them crash at the Carlyle.
Xavier continued. “I bought everything we need, but I’m not lifting a finger to cook. You do not want me in the kitchen.”
“True.” Finn patted him on the arm. “Last time he tried to cook a steak, it ended up so raw I swear it moved.”
“That’s truly disgusting.” Ruby turned to Virginia. “I want marshmallows on the sweet potatoes.”
“That is the plan.” Virginia almost chastised her for not saying “please” but held her tongue, not wanting to embarrass her.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Finn.
“Not a thing. I’ve got this.”
After showering and fluffing her hair per Xavier’s detailed instructions, Virginia threw on an apron and got down to work: prepping the turkey and getting it in the oven, figuring out where the pots and pans were, and deciding which serving dishes were most festive. She could hear Finn, Xavier, and Ruby in the living room watching the Thanksgiving Day parade on the television, cheering when their favorite balloons drifted by.
After Xavier announced the Bloody Marys were ready, she joined them in the living room, setting a tray with some Ritz crackers and cheddar cheese on the coffee table.
Finn patted the cushion beside him. “Sit, Vee, and tell us about your new job.”
She tucked her bare feet underneath her and sipped the Bloody Mary. Strong but good. “It’s interesting, more so than I expected. But it’s pretty straightforward. I help out, make sure the supplies are filled, get coffee.”
“Where do you work in Grand Central?”
“I’m in the information booth.”
Xavier leaned forward. “The one with the clock on top of it? Right in the middle of that big space?”
“The concourse. Well, yes.”
“How on earth did you end up in there?” asked Finn.
She stifled the familiar drumbeat of defensiveness. “Long story. The people who work there are a quirky bunch, to say the least, but I don’t mind it. The building has so much history behind it, I like being part of it.”
Ruby wiped some crumbs off her skirt, not looking her mother’s way. “That time I took the train back from Sarah Lawrence, I was so scared. The place is creepy.”
“It’s not creepy once you get used to it. Although I am careful. In any case, it’s a paycheck.” She shrugged. “Who knows how long I’ll be there.”
“Why the uncertainty?” Xavier asked.
“The building might lose its landmark status, in which case the owner wants to put up a skyscraper. They’d move the train station down belowground and build up above it.”
“They shouldn’t tear Grand Central down,” said Finn. “They’ll just regret it, like with Penn Station.”
“But why keep something that’s old and crummy?” asked Ruby. She’d been edgy since waking, flinging her clothes around their shared room because she couldn’t find the right outfit. She was probably missing her father for the holiday, Virginia realized with a rush of guilt.
“It’s not all old and crummy.” Virginia couldn’t help but spring to the building’s defense as if it were an aging, disagreeable dowager, one who deserved a grudging respect. “Parts of it are gorgeous. If they tear it down, it would be like taking down the history of New York with it.”
“What if they said that back in the eighteen hundreds?” countered Ruby. “New York would still have cobblestone streets, farms, and tenement buildings. It’s called progress.”
“Your daughter has a good point,” said Finn.
“I guess so. Maybe we can find some kind of happy medium.” She thought of Dennis’s model, with the skyscraper perching on top of the terminal. Would that qualify as a happy medium?
No. The more she considered it, the more she wanted the terminal to stay as it was. Not only for Terrence, Totto, Winston, and Doris. But so that in fifty years, the city’s residents could appreciate the grandeur of the olden days the same way she did now.
Finn laughed. “Remember when Mom and Dad took us to the Oyster Bar?”
The memory flooded back. “But then wouldn’t let us order oysters, because the month didn’t contain an r? We had minestrone soup instead.”
Finn turned to Xavier. “She was certain that if an oyster passed our lips in July, we would fall deathly ill. Never mind all the advances in refrigeration. Our mother was always one for a potential crisis. Whether it was that our dad might be robbed at gunpoint, or the city was about to fall into the sea, she was always thinking three steps ahead. She didn’t see the glass half-empty; she saw it as laced with angel dust, which she’d heard on the news made you want to jump off buildings.”
Virginia waggled a finger at him. “There wasn’t angel dust back then. Now you’re being ridiculous.”
Finn shrugged. “You know what I mean. To give her a little credit, it really didn’t bother her much when I came out. She took that in stride. Blowing off Juilliard, however, that caused an earthquake.”
The earthquake had occurred on a sweltering Indian summer of a day, when Finn was seventeen. He’d been banging away on the upright piano all afternoon, struggling through a Bach piece, slamming his hands down hard on the keyboard when he made a mistake, the neighbors below pounding on the ceiling with a broom handle. Everyone’s nerves were frayed. When their mother told Finn to get his act together and stop behaving like a child, he’d erupted, telling her that he wanted to go into theater, not to Juilliard. Their parents had cut him off right there and then, and he’d run away, heading to Europe with only a backpack.
“Here’s to Meryl O’Connor, flawed as she was.” Virginia raised her glass in a toast.
“Here’s to Meryl.” Finn echoed her, and the others joined in.