“Is that right?”
“I missed you.”
His shoulders dropped an inch or two. “Right. I’m sorry. I’ve been swamped with the court case.”
“I heard the city’s fighting back and figured you might need a little distraction.” She walked closer and offered up a winsome smile. “What do you think?”
“You want to go to the art school? Now?”
She pretended to think it over. “No, it’s too dusty there. But it’s been a long day and I really need to relax. Let’s go to your office and maybe we can figure something out.”
“My office?”
“Sure. Why not? You have a door, right?” She lowered her voice. “I’ll be very quiet.”
And that was that. He took her gently by the arm, and they walked back down to his office. She wandered over to the desk while he shut and locked the door. Placing both hands on the desktop, she leaned over and scanned the files and papers on top while giving him a nice view of her backside.
“Wow. You look amazing. I wasn’t sure . . .” He trailed off, distracted.
“Do you have something to drink here?”
He walked over and opened a drawer in his desk, took out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, and poured a couple of fingers. She took hers and sashayed over to the couch, where a stack of redweld folders were piled up. Dennis stumbled over and began to set them on the floor.
She helped, flashing an inch of skin above her stocking, while eyeing the folders inside the redwelds. PENN CENTRAL TRANSPORTATION COMPANY V. CITY OF NEW YORK: APPEALS, LANDMARK STATUS, MEMORANDA, CORRESPONDENCE. All manila files, not the yellow one he’d patted that day in the Whispering Gallery, which showed the terminal’s actual expenses. Not what she was looking for.
She kissed him, drawing him in, leaning back and letting his weight settle on her. He tried to touch her breasts, but she pushed his hand away, told him to unbuckle his pants, ordering him about until they were going at it. Virginia had rarely been the initiator when it came to sex. It just wasn’t what girls of her era were supposed to do. But being the one in power exhilarated her. The arm of the sofa crimped her neck, but she didn’t care; the pain and the pleasure were all wrapped up together.
When they finished, she shifted closer to the edge of the couch so he could lie down next to her.
They both were panting, and he laughed. “This was amazing. You’re amazing.”
“Shh. That’s enough talking. Close your eyes and relax.” She ran a finger up and down his forearm until he had drifted off and the snores were regular and loud.
She slid off the couch to the floor, in a way that brought to mind the Salvador Dalí painting of the clock. Once there, she scanned the folders, one after another, keeping her back to Dennis in case he woke up. She probably had ten minutes, if his past slumber was any indication.
No yellow folder. She tried his briefcase, but it wasn’t in the outside pocket or any of the interior ones.
She crawled over to the desk, staying low. The drawer where he’d stored the liquor held more files, including a lone yellow one marked PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL: ORIGINAL TERMINAL BALANCE SHEET.
Bingo. Mata Hari had nothing on her.
“What are you doing?” Dennis sat up on the couch, rubbing his face.
Virginia dropped the file to the floor and lifted out the whiskey bottle. “Looking to see if you had any other booze. Whiskey isn’t really my drink.”
As he got to his feet, she did the same, sliding the file out of his field of vision with her foot.
“What would you like instead?” he asked.
“How about some water? You really wore me out there.”
It worked. Dennis strutted out of his office like a rooster, off to the water cooler, and while he was gone, she tucked the file into her purse.
A few days later, Virginia found herself seated across from Adelaide in the sunny Midtown offices of the Municipal Art Society.
“We’re thrilled to have more volunteers.” Adelaide picked up a pen. “What kind of work would you like to do for us? We have several options, including helping stuff envelopes for our mailings, inputting data, or assisting with outreach.”
“Whatever I can do to help save Grand Central. All three, if necessary.”
“You’re enthusiastic. I’m not surprised, after seeing your daughter’s remarkable photos.”
“She really captured it. Since I work there, I see firsthand the beauty of the place.”
“I wish there were more people like you in this city, ready to step up.”
“I was at the press conference. It sure feels like there’s a groundswell of support.”
“We can only hope the appellate judge in the case takes that into account.” Adelaide checked her calendar. “Can you start on Saturday? We’re planning to hold a couple of demonstrations outside the terminal over the new few months, and it’ll be a brainstorming meeting.”
“You bet.”
Out in the reception area, they shook hands. “Oh no, I forgot my umbrella.” Virginia held up one hand. “I’ll grab it and be right back.”
She popped back into Adelaide’s office, pulled out a large, unmarked envelope from her purse, and laid it on Adelaide’s chair, where she couldn’t miss it. Sealed inside was the yellow manila folder, proof of Penn Central’s creative accounting. She could only hope that Adelaide understood the significance of the figures.
Virginia plucked her umbrella from the floor and left, closing the door softly behind her.
The first of March came in like a lamb, the sky a bright winter blue. Slightly buzzed after sharing a farewell mimosa with Xavier and Finn at Bemelmans, Virginia considered what to do next, the whole Saturday wide open in front of her. Ruby had served them, proud of her skill behind the bar, and they’d all hugged and kissed good-bye. Xavier and Finn were off to Europe and their next adventure, and Virginia was sorry to see them go. Even though Finn was due back in the summer for another long gig at the Carlyle, she’d miss her daily dose of her brother’s silly wit and quiet strength.
After that dismal meeting in the Oyster Bar, Chester had surprised Virginia by writing to her upstairs neighbors on his firm letterhead requesting any and all receipts relating to the fire damage. In response, they’d dropped their demands considerably, and Virginia and Ruby had moved back into their apartment a couple of weeks ago. Virginia relished every nook and cranny, happy to have a home again, except the blank space on the living room wall, where she’d hoped to hang the watercolor.
“Hey, Virginia.”
Virginia turned to see Ryan standing beside her on the sidewalk. He squinted in the bright morning light. “That scarf looks grand on you.”
She pulled it closer around her neck, surprised by the compliment. “Thanks.”
“What way are you going?”
She pointed south. “I thought I’d stop by the Museum of Modern Art.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll walk with you for a bit.”
They fell into step through the early-morning crowds, mainly older folks wandering down Madison. A bike zinged past her on the sidewalk, and Ryan took her by the elbow and pulled her a little closer to him. “Careful, there.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m glad we have some time like this. I’d been hoping to talk with you.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
She frowned, thinking of Ruby, who was relying on the bar income to pay for her photography classes. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all.”
But something was off. She couldn’t tell what. Ryan buzzed with a nervous energy and had a spring to his step that she hadn’t seen before.
“How’s Ruby doing?” she asked.
“Great. Really good.”
“I wish her father would give her a break. Chester seems to think that she’s slumming it by working in a bar.” She turned to Ryan. “I don’t think that, of course. I’m thrilled she’s working and happy.”