4. A WEEKEND IN NEW YORK

"New York? Why do you need to go there?"

I debated for a moment whether to tell my brother the truth, or whether it would be easier to make up a story on the spot. I knew he wouldn't be too keen on the idea of me traveling across the country to see Coraline, but given the fact that I burst into the living room as if the house was on fire to tell him I was leaving town, I didn't have a slew of other plausible explanations up my sleeve.

"Coraline is going to be there next week. I'm going there to spend the weekend with her."

I watched as Harvey and Lucy's faces swept in different directions like an unbalanced scale. Hers went from neutral to surprise and giddy excitement. His sunk to slightly angered cynicism.

Well, at least one of them is happy for me.

"You can't be serious..." Harvey said, his eyebrows lowering a little further.

"I am serious. Harvey, I've been waiting to see her for nine years. There's no way I'm passing this up."

"Why would she be in New York? And how do you know when she'll be there?"

"I read it in a letter. She's finally able to write again."

Harvey had reluctantly accepted that the letters I had been receiving during our time in Whitefish were legitimately from Coraline, though he still wasn't fond of the idea of writing back and forth. His expression lightened ever so slightly.

"Well... are you sure it's safe? You sure it's not a trap?"

"Seriously, Harvey!" Lucy interjected, adopting a scolding tone. "Will you ease up a bit? This is exciting news – you know how much this means to Grant. Can't you be happy for him?"

"What is there to be happy about? My brother's getting yanked around like a dog on a chain, by some girl who's working for the Volturi. You want me to be happy about that?"

"You should at least be supportive, then," she answered, turning her attention to me. "We'll take care of everything here until you get back. Don't worry about a thing. You go and have fun."

"Thanks, Luce. I'll be about two weeks. You sure you don't mind watching things for that long?"

"It's no problem at all. Right, Harvey?" She turned to him, eyes narrowed and mildly threatening.

"Go ahead. It's your funeral," he replied apathetically.

"Great. Alright, well, I'm leaving right away," I said, ignoring Harvey's remarks altogether. "I'll bring back a souvenir or something."

"That soon?" Lucy asked.

"That soon. I'd like to get there before she does so I can get acclimated to the layout of the town."

"Okay, that'll be fine," she replied warmly. "Have a good time."

I took about an hour to pack my things, and I was on the road, heading east once more for a road trip. There was a part of me that held onto a bit of concern over the operation of the business in my absence – it wasn't that Harvey and Lucy were incompetent, it was just Harvey's opposition to the idea that gave me hesitation. I didn't want Lucy to end up taking care of things all on her own.

Now that we had full control of the undertaking business, my family and I had all the blood we could want, and no one to hide our business practices from. The business wasn't especially lucrative, but I had more than enough income from stock market investments to cover it. It didn't need to make a profit in my absence, it just needed to remain viable until I returned. I knew Harvey and Lucy were capable of at least that much.

The trip to New York took me two days, which would have seemed like an eternity, had it not been for my vehicle. One of the benefits of being a substantial shareholder in the General Motors Company was the preferential treatment I could command when it came time to purchase a new automobile. Officially, the 1957 model Corvette was not available to the general public until mid-April 1957. Unofficially, my one-of-a-kind concept was more car than the general public would ever see. It was a beauty – cherry red with white side paneling and white-walled tires. Red and white dual-toned leather interior. Powered convertible top. Everything you could ask for in looks and luxury. And then, there was the engine.

The general-production engine was set to achieve about 290 horsepower – one of the highest outputs of any commercially-available vehicle. After a little persuasion, the chaps at General Motors supplied me with my own optimized, fuel-injected version, reaching 330 horsepower. Paired with a racing-inspired 4-speed manual transmission (and my own mental modifications), I could go 0-60 miles-per-hour in under five seconds. As much as someone could possible love an inanimate object, I loved that car. It was impossible to drive it without smiling.

I reached Manhattan three days before Coraline was set to arrive, and immediately set out to make myself acquainted with the city. I hadn't actually been to New York City since I was a young lad, and I had forgotten how large and energetic a place it really was. There was more to do in that city than two people could accomplish in a week, much less a weekend, and I chronicled it all. I didn't know what sort of things Coraline would want to do during her visit, and I was the planning type anyway, so I was ready for any brand of entertainment her heart desired.

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was time for Coraline to arrive. I considered waiting for her at the airport, but given the fact that there were three different airports servicing the area (not to mention the possibility of her arriving via boat, train or automobile), I decided to wait for her at the hotel, since that was the one place in the city where I knew I could find her.

There were multiple entrances to the large hotel, situated on different streets – I could only watch one at a time.

Missing her was not an option, so I gave up on the idea of seeing her approach, and went with my sense of smell instead. There was a restaurant across the street to the north of the building that had an outdoor seating area. I took a book there with me, and sat down at one of the tables, pretending to read and drink a cup of coffee, while I waited for Coraline's familiar scent to appear.

It was early October, and the chilly weather, accompanied by a stiff breeze, kept anyone else from venturing toward the outdoor tables. After my second refill, I told the waiter he could stop checking on me, and I sat there alone, watching the time go by. It was 9am when I arrived at the restaurant, and I ended up waiting there all day, making sure to visit the restroom with some frequency to keep whatever cover I had intact.

I had actually begun to wonder if I had misunderstood Coraline's directions when I smelled it – warm honeysuckle, lilies and champagne – she was here. I left an exorbitant tip at the table and promptly exited the restaurant, following the sweet aroma that grew stronger by the second. Adjusting for the strength and direction of the wind, I suspected the smell was coming from the south. I headed down 50th street, coming to the intersection with Park Avenue, and my theory was confirmed. The sweet fragrance was potent – I was very close. I crossed the street between moving cars (something I wouldn't recommend, if you ever visit Manhattan), and started walking up the sidewalk as fast as "humanly" possible.

And then I saw her.

There, about 300 yards in front of me, was the most beautiful creature in existence, floating towards me with the grace of a butterfly. I hadn't seen Coraline with my own eyes in nearly 9 years, and even with the total recall of my vampire mind, seeing her in person was infinitely better than any memory I could recall. She was dressed more fashionably than I was accustomed to. She wore a narrow, shin-length black and white checked tweed skirt, with a matching top that was something like a half-jacket with short sleeves and a blouse underneath. On her hands, she wore white gloves in premium leather, and the color theme continued with a black felt beret that was offset slightly to one side and allowed for her lovely hair to flow naturally from under it. All the black and white was accented by a dash of red – in her high heeled shoes, her purse (she carries a purse now?) and her bold lipstick. Her eyes were covered by ornately-rimmed sunglasses, but I knew the exact moment when they connected with mine. Those red-lined lips opened slightly in surprise, and then quickly turned upward into a smile.

It was really her. At last.

Wesley and Harriet were probably somewhere around her, but I didn't take the time to look for them. Once my eyes locked onto Coraline, they were unwilling to look anywhere else. I paused there on the sidewalk for a brief moment, taking in the sight, before the rest of my body responded. Without a conscious thought, I bolted for her, covering a city block like a flash of lightning. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't a good idea to move at that speed around other humans, but that voice was pushed so far to the periphery of my mind, I hardly heard it. None of that mattered. Coraline was here.

As soon as I reached her, I took her in my arms, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around. The feeling of her arms wrapped around me was so warm and soothing and wonderful that I was unable to really say anything. All I could do – all I wanted to do – was hold her.

"I missed you," she whispered into my ear after a short while, still wrapped up in my arms.

"Yes," I replied softly, "I've missed you, too. So very much..."

I didn't want to let her go, but my eyes wanted to see her again, so I released her at arm's length, and looked into her angelic face. It was amazing – I knew her face better than I knew my own, better than anyone else's on earth. And yet, as I looked at her that October afternoon, it was as if in some way, I was seeing her again for the first time. I was awestruck.

"I can't believe you're really here," I said at last, still reveling in the sight of her perfect smile. "It's... like a dream..."

"Yeah, I'm so glad you came. I didn't know if you got my letter or not..."

"I wrote back as soon as I got it. But then, I suppose you wouldn't have had the chance to read it yet..."

"No. I guess I'll have something to read when I go back, then."

"I suppose you will. So... how are you?" I asked, still giddy with excitement. "It's been ages..."

"I'm great! Great. Everything's... great."

"That's wonderful."

"And you – how are you? I haven't heard anything from you in more than a year."

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry about that. I'm very well, especially now that you're here. Harvey and Lucy are doing well also; they said to tell you 'hello.'"

I suddenly remembered that Harriet and Wesley were nearby, and glanced around to see their faces right behind Coraline.

"Hey Grant, nice to see you again," Wesley said, reaching over to hug me as Coraline released me momentarily. I greeted Harriet as well, before returning my attention to Coraline.

"Are you, um... free tonight? I mean... to spend some time together-"

"Absolutely!" Coraline interrupted, smiling widely. "I've got all evening, and most of the day tomorrow."

"That's terrific! So, you don't think Harriet and Wesley would mind me stealing you away for a while?"

"Ugh! Please, get her out of our hair," Harriet teased with a wink. "I've got some serious shopping to do."

"I'd be happy to," I replied. "And don't worry, I'll have her back by dawn."

"No need," Wesley said, placing his hands on Harriet's shoulders like the proud boyfriend/husband/whatever that he was. "Hattie's got you both covered. The forecast is 'cloudy' for the rest of our visit. Knock yourself out."

Wesley picked up Coraline's suitcase in addition to Harriet's, and the two of them entered the hotel, leaving Coraline and me to enjoy the rest of the evening together. There was a short, silent pause, as both of us tried to figure out what to say next. It had been a long time since we'd actually had a normal conversation, and neither of us was quite sure where to begin. I spoke first, after checking my wristwatch and realizing the relative lateness of the hour.

"So, I don't mean to be abrupt, but... how would you feel about watching the Philharmonic this evening? If we leave soon, we can make it there in time to get settled in before the performance."

"The New York Philharmonic? Sure, I'd love that. Where are they playing?"

"Carnegie Hall. I saw a performance there when I visited the city as a young lad. It's quite nice."

Coraline's face turned to one of surprise, her eyes conveying a moderate degree of concern.

"You want to watch the performance from inside the building?"

"Yes. I've got two tickets, fourth row back. They were actually a bit difficult to procure..."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, I ate before I left, but..."

Suddenly, the cause of her concern dawned on me. She was thirsty. At least, a little. Fortunately, I had a perfect solution.

"Not to worry. I have just the thing. We'll need to stop by my room before we go."

I took her up to my seventh-floor suite at the Waldorf, opening the refrigerator I had special-ordered from the hotel management, and producing a metal container with a nozzle on the top.

"What's this?" Coraline asked, as her face lit up with a curious smile.

"Blood. As fresh as I could manage."

"Oh. It's really cold..."

"Yes, I'm afraid I don't have the equipment to re-heat it for you here. I can assure you, though, it's not sour. I extracted it myself, from the freshest body I had in my shop. As soon as it was out of the body, I flash-froze it in liquid nitrogen, and transported it here in its frozen state. It only thawed a few hours ago. Try it – I think you'll find it's better than the last cold blood you tasted."

She reluctantly opened the lid to the container and took a sip. I waited on pins and needles, hoping she could at least find it satiable – a lot of the activities I had planned for the weekend depended on it.

"That's... actually pretty good," she said, sounding impressed. "Is this all for me?"

"Absolutely," I replied with great relief, "and I have plenty more if you want it."

Once she'd had her fill, we set off toward Carnegie Hall, which was close enough to reach on foot without disrupting our schedule. We made idle chit-chat on the way, and by the time we found our seats, it was almost time for the concert to begin.

So much for quality conversation.

The concert was terrific, as expected, though I didn't really give a lot of attention to the music. The lion's share of my conscious thought was wrapped up in Coraline. It was still a bit surreal to think that she was actually sitting next to me – in person – and that there was no one in the city seeking to find us and kill us. I though about the things I wanted to talk about – serious things – and tried to sort through my weekend plans to see when we might be able to dive into that sort of conversation.

In addition to my mental planning, a sizable portion of my conscious thought was tied up in suppressing her blood cravings. As a result of spending large amounts of time with Harvey and Lucy in public, I had become quite skilled at controlling the urge in someone else's body. I had all confidence that she could sit through the entire concert without incident. It took a lot of focus, though.

As soon as the concert was over, we swiftly made our way out of the auditorium and into the comparatively clear air outside.

"Well... that was fun..." I said after a long pause as we stood on the sidewalk in front of the performance hall.

"Yeah, thanks! I can't believe I made it through the whole concert without... you know..."

"Yes, I'm um... glad you liked it."

The conversation was about as natural as a couple of twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. I had to think of something to break the ice.

Come on, Grant, you've been waiting for twelve years to talk to her. TALK TO HER!

I fumbled internally with several sentence fragments that my mouth never gave birth to before a wonderful idea caught my eye. Just a few blocks north of us, I spotted a horse-drawn carriage click-clacking down the Central Park sidewalk.

Perfect.

"Say, Coraline... how would you feel about a carriage ride?"

"Sure – it sounds fun," she replied before I had even fully articulated my sentence. I could tell she was as eager as I was to escape the conversational funk we had found ourselves in on the sidewalk.

We walked over to the park, and followed the path of the passing carriages until we found one waiting to be hired. I walked up to the rather lanky young man who was standing beside the large horse, and reached for my wallet.

"Hello there, are you still, um... open for business?"

"Shuah thing, mista," he said in perhaps the thickest New York accent I had heard to date. "Six dollas fa fifteen minutes, oah ten for a half-owah."

"Alright," I replied, trying to decode his hack-job of the English language, "and what would it cost for, say, three hours?"

"Oh, I dunno mista," he replied, scratching his head and sizing me and my companion up as he stroked the neck of his horse. "Bruno heah is awful tiyad, it bein' the end of da day and oahl... I'd hafta make it up to 'im..."

I reached into my wallet and pulled out two crisp $100 bills, placing them into his hand as I took a step forward.

"This should be enough to cover your expenses, don't you think?"

His face lit up like a child with a new toy.

"Well... uh... Bruno and I would be happy to serve you, mista..."

"Willoughby," I said, answering the implied question.

"Alright, then, Mista Willoughby. Right this way. Oh, and uh... ladies first," he said, escorting Coraline and me into the red velvet interior of the white carriage.

In no time we were off, slowly weaving our way through the densely-arranged trees, many of which had already begun to display the bright yellows, oranges and reds of fall. I don't know if it was the change of scenery, or just the passage of a little more time, but the two of us finally broke into a regular conversation.

"So... 'Willoughby?' You're just using your real name now? I mean – out in public, and everything?" Coraline asked, turning to me and speaking softly enough that our carriage driver wouldn't overhear.

"Well, I don't use it for anything official, but when I'm out traveling – sure, why not? I don't think our driver here poses any real threat to my safety."

"Yeah, I guess not," she replied. "So, speaking of safety... and anonymity, and all that, how have things been for you lately? I feel like I haven't had a real update in years. I take it you're still in Montana..."

"Yes, I'm... terribly sorry about that, I... well, after Wally died, and then not hearing from you for so long... I dunno, I suppose I was sulking a bit. Sorry. I meant to write so much more often..."

"No, that's fine, Grant. I was the one who was out of order for so long. That's... I completely understand..."

"Good. So, we're... everything's..."

"Yeah. We're great. I mean, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, then... that's a relief."

"Yeah, I guess it is," she replied, her chuckles finally breaking through the awkward tension. "So, then, you're just gonna have to catch me up. How are Harvey and Lucy? Have you made any new friends? Do you still watch football? C'mon, I need details."

"So much to cover... I don't even know where to begin."

The two of us slid into a long story-telling conversation, getting each other up-to-speed with the latest developments in our unfortunately distanced lives. I told her all about the business, and Harvey and Lucy, and about my thoughts on leaving Whitefish in the near future. She told me about the India war, the living conditions in Volterra, and her new occupation, which allowed her to come to New York. Before we knew it, our three hours were up, and our carriage driver pulled us back to the place where he had picked us up.

"Well, Mista Willoughby, I'm sorry ta say it, but I'm afraid ya time's up. Bruno and I will be back heah tomorrow aftanoon if ya'd like to take another ride."

Normally, I was a very obliging person, and I knew the young man and his horse needed a break, but I couldn't let this conversation end yet. There was still a lot I needed to talk to Coraline about, and the back of the carriage was the perfect place – there were minimal distractions, we were out of the public eye for the most part, and whatever faint human-blood smell there was in the wide open park air was masked by the thick-yet-tolerable scent of Bruno, the workhorse.

Besides all that, it was rather romantic.

No, I wasn't ready for that part of the night to be over quite yet. I pulled out my wallet again, leaning forward to talk quietly to the tiring carriage driver.

"What would you say about a couple more times 'round the park? My friend and I aren't quite finished talking yet..."

"Nah, I gotta get to bed," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, my horse needs a break."

"What's your name, lad?"

"Oascah"

"Alright then, Oscar, let's make a deal, shall we? Why don't you and Bruno take a fifteen minute break and get something to eat," I said, placing another $100 bill in his hand, "and once you're rested, you can come back and resume your route. I'll pay you $200 an hour, and you'll keep going until I'm ready to get out. I'll even pay you the first two hours up front."

"Ya know... I think I'm feelin' betta already," Oscar replied with a wide smile.

I pulled out another $400 and placed it in his hand, reclining back to my seat and speaking to Coraline in a louder tone (as if she wouldn't have been able to hear my business arrangement earlier).

"Oscar and his horse are going to take a short break, and then we'll be back on the trail. I hope you don't mind the pause..."

"Not at all," she said with a wink.

Perfect. We had all night.

Oscar and Bruno were rested, fed, and back to work in no time, and they faithfully carried us around (albeit with periodic rest stops) all night long. The time they provided us with was golden – it was so nice to be able to talk at length to Coraline again, and there was no shortage of material to talk about. The one frustration that I had was my inability to move the discussion to the more serious matter of our status as friends/lovers/somewhere-in-between's. It wasn't for a lack of trying – I attempted to shift the conversation in that direction several times, but each time, she would change the subject before I got there. I didn't know if she was deliberately dodging the matter, or if I was just unlucky, but regardless of the reason, it never got discussed. I would have been more irritated about it, but it was hard to be anything but radiant with Coraline near. I had forgotten just how joy-inspiring her physical proximity could be – even if we hadn't talked at all, I still would have been walking on cloud nine. I wasn't going to let any disappointments dampen my spirits. The heavy conversations would have to wait.

Once the sun began to lighten the cloud-filled morning sky, we decided it was time to release our dedicated carriage driver. I paid him the hourly wage we had discussed, and threw in another $200 tip on top of it all. He and Bruno could take the rest of the month off with all the money I gave them. Normally, I would never have even considered putting out that much money for something as simple as a carriage ride, but this was my only time to be with Coraline – I was pulling out all the stops.

We wandered aimlessly around downtown Manhattan for several hours of the early morning, exploring and making small talk like we so often used to.

And then Tiffany's opened.

Tiffany & Co., as I soon learned, was the premier high-end jeweler in the country, and they happened to have a relatively new flagship store in downtown Manhattan. We were actually waiting outside the store when the clerks opened the doors, and as soon as we were let inside, Coraline lit up like a giddy schoolgirl. We spent two hours and forty-six minutes looking at virtually every diamond in the entire showroom. If I had been there with anyone other than Coraline, I would have been bored to tears, but it was entertainment enough just seeing her react the way she did. For someone who talked about not being a "girly girl," she had an awfully powerful affinity for diamonds. She shared with me the intricacies of every gem – if the cut was good or poor, the little bubbles and "imperfections" that made each stone unique, and of course, how it glittered brilliantly under the showroom lights. I must admit, they were beautiful stones, but at the end of the day, they were still... stones.

Dug up from the ground.

I felt a little awkward, having overly-friendly salespersons wait on us for nearly three hours without anything to show for it, so I offered to buy Coraline one of the countless rings she tried on. She was resolutely opposed to the idea, but I was insistent on walking out of the store with something, so we compromised, and I bought her a diamond necklace – one of the finer ones they had available.

The necklace cost more than the carriage ride, and though I had plenty of cash in town with me, I was beginning to run out of bills on hand, so we made a quick stop back by the hotel to restock my wallet and get Coraline another quart of blood to drink.

Once we had sufficiently re-fueled, I proposed my next planned activity – two front-row tickets to the World Series of baseball. Coraline cocked her head slightly and spoke through a curious smile.

"Do you even like baseball?"

"Sure I do. I play it every time I visit the Cullens. It's quite an enjoyable pastime."

"Oh, I forgot. You're into American sports now..."

"Well, it may never live up to English football, but it's a lot of fun to watch."

She looked a little uncertain. "You will explain it to me, right?"

"Of course. You're a bright girl – you'll pick it up in no time."

"Okay. Well, let's give it a try."

We made the decision to travel the seven miles to Yankee Stadium on foot, since we had plenty of time (and the confines of a human-filled subway car were less than desirable), and arrived there with about forty minutes to spare before the game began. We found our way to our seats, which were just off-center behind home plate, and had barely been seated when Coraline perked up, suddenly intense and worried.

"Vampires – There's someone else here. Actually, a lot of them."

I smelled for them as well, and she was right. Somewhere amidst the sea of human bodies and their food-like aromas, the sweet smell of a vampire coven could be faintly discerned.

"Grant, we need to get out of here," she whispered, grabbing my hand for the first time, which completely distracted me from the urgency of the matter.

She noticed.

"Hey, are you listening? We need to leave. Now."

I snapped back to my senses, and was about to scurry out the nearest exit with her, when I noticed something relieving.

"I recognize them," I said abruptly, standing up with Coraline and walking from my seat, but not toward the exit. "C'mon, I want to introduce you to a couple of my friends."

We stepped through the crowded seats to the left field upper deck, where five of my good friends were awaiting my arrival.

"Coraline, I'd like you to meet Carlisle, Esme, Emmet, Rosalie and Edward Cullen. Everyone, this is my friend Coraline."

They all offered the standard greetings, but it was Esme who was a sort of spokesperson for the family, stepping forward to give Coraline a hug.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she said with a warm smile. "We've heard so much about you, we feel as if we already know you."

"Yeah, and almost half of what we heard was good, so I guess we can be friends," Emmet teased.

"This is a pleasant surprise to see you all here," I said, "where are Jasper and Alice?"

"Jasper wasn't feeling quite up to this much human contact," Carlisle answered. "He was disappointed to miss seeing you – Alice said you might be here."

"Well, tell him that I said hello, and that I'll have to plan another visit soon," I replied.

We stood there and talked with them until it was almost time for the game to start. They offered to let us sit in Jasper and Alice's seats with them, and I would have declined, but Coraline jumped at the idea. We sat in the upper deck with them for the first four innings before moving back to our own seats. It actually turned out to be a good thing – she now had six baseball tutors instead of one. Well, actually, it was more like four. Emmet was too engrossed in the game to offer any instruction, and Edward never said two words the whole time – it was like he was somewhere else completely.

Coraline and I watched the rest of the game from our front-row seats, talking intermittently between at-bats and innings. After the game, we reconnected with the Cullens (who were thrilled to see the Yankees win), and by the time we had finished talking with them, it was nearly 5:00pm, which didn't leave us much time. Coraline had to be at her contact point in Queens by 7:30 so she could conduct the business she was in town for – something she reassured me would be over in three hours or less. We spent the remainder of our time together standing on top of New York.

Literally.

We went up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building, the tallest structure on the planet, and soaked in the view for a while. It was quite windy up there, enough to make casual conversation a little difficult. Add to that the nosy young lady who kept staring at us suspiciously, and there really wasn't a chance to get to those more serious topics I had been trying to bring up all day. Instead, we chatted about random nonsense and remarked about the view, which, as nice as it was, seemed a little underwhelming after sitting atop a 22,000-ft mountain. At any rate, it was still nice to be with her. Before I knew it, it was time for her to get to the other side of town for business, and I was on my own again.

Coraline's trans-Atlantic flight home didn't leave until Sunday morning, so we would have a few more golden hours together once her official business was finished. I went back to the hotel to wait for her there, and tried unsuccessfully to occupy my attention with something other than her. The three hours it took for her to return crept by like a snail on tranquilizers. If I hadn't been able to hear my wristwatch ticking, I would have thought time had stopped moving altogether.

Ugh. This will be your life again tomorrow. No Coraline.

When I heard the soft tap on the door of my room, I had to work to temper my enthusiasm. After all, I was still a respectable, confident man. Even if I did feel like a puppy whose master had come home, I didn't want to come across that way.

"Hey, how did it go? Did you get what you needed from him – or was it her? I guess it really doesn't matter, huh? W-would you like to come in? Please, come in. Have another drink. Did I ask you how it went? Good, I hope. Right?"

Some nervous thirteen-year-old had taken over my brain.

Great, Grant. Way to be calm and collected.

"Everything went fine," she answered with a reluctant smile. "And I'd love another drink, if you've got more of that bottled stuff."

"Certainly. I'll have it right up for you," I replied, glancing at my watch as I retrieved another canister from the refrigerator.

10:42. Taking into account the time it'll take to get to the airport and board the plane before takeoff, that leaves us with... about nine hours. Nine hours! How will I ever manage?

I still had so much planned for the weekend, and there would never be enough time to fit everything in – I would just have to decide what to cut. Which ended up being everything.

"So, I hear that Times Square is quite entertaining in the evening time," I said as I handed Coraline the canister, "and I have a list of music clubs in the area that are said to be top-notch, if you're in a musical mood..."

"Actually, I was thinking... what if we got out of town for a while?" She answered, after finishing the blood.

"Out... what, um... how far?"

"I dunno, just... out. Would that be okay? I know you had plans..."

"No, no... that's perfectly alright. The most important plan is to be with you as much as possible," I replied, formulating a new plan in my head. This could still work out quite well. "I can do 'out.'"

I took Coraline down to the main floor lobby of the hotel, and had the valet pull up my Corvette. It was time that the two things I loved most in life met each other.

Even in the clouded evening light, the car glistened like a jewel, practically dripping swagger.

Oh, yeah. She has to be impressed.

"So, would you like to take a drive?" I asked, trying not to seem too proud.

"Sure. Sounds like fun."

She wasn't quite as blown-away as I was expecting, but then, she hadn't been inside yet. We climbed in and drove slowly through the tight grid-work of roads, heading across the Hudson river and through Newark, New Jersey. And then we hit the open road.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked with a devious smile as we left the town and started my customized power-convertible top.

"Uh, sure. I think."

"Hold on to your hat."

I hit the gas pedal, and the tires screeched under the suddenly increased torque load. With a little help from my own mental coaxing, we were at 80mph in a matter of seconds, and by the time you could count to ten, we were cruising through the widening landscape at just under 135mph.

Swagger.

"So, what do you think now?" I asked, a proud grin pushing its way through as I tried to make out her face amidst the wind-tossed curls of hair that danced around it violently.

"I think you're crazy," she said, finally coercing her hair to stay behind her head, "but I like it. It's a good crazy."

We kept driving for over an hour, crossing over into Pennsylvania and spending a little time cruising through the winding roads of a sizable wildlife reserve there. Speed is one thing, speed around curves is another altogether. The smell of burning rubber mingled with the scents of maple and poplar in the clear forest air as I pushed the car through tight turns and twists, throwing our bodies around the cabin like a carnival ride. We both smiled and laughed like schoolchildren, temporarily oblivious to all the worries and stress of the outside world. It was tremendously therapeutic.

By 1:00am, we were ready to head back to the city (and running low on gas), and by 2:15, we were crossing the bridge back into New York.

That's when Coraline got her next great idea.

"So, where to next?" I asked, as we slowed to a crawl in town.

"Do you know where the Manhattan Bridge is?" She asked, still looking straight ahead.

"Of course. Is that where you want to go?" I had committed the entire city map to memory. I knew where everything was.

"We went by there on our way into town. It was nice. I thought... I dunno, maybe we could go there to... unwind a little."

"It sounds lovely. Would you prefer to go in the car, or on foot?"

"I think your car deserves a break. You pushed it even harder than Bruno."

"I guess you're right. Otherwise, I may be walking back to Montana."

We left the car at the hotel and set out towards the bridge. We were about 4 miles away, which, for the amount of time we had left, was a long way to cover on foot. Given the time of day – or, rather, night – we decided to risk taking the subway. Fortunately, we had a rail car completely to ourselves, and after exiting at the nearest station, we were able to reach the bridge easily by 3am. We set out on the steel structure at a casual pace until about halfway across, where Coraline stopped and began to climb over the side railing.

"What... are you doing?" I asked, as she positioned her body on the outside of the handrail.

"Getting a better spot. C'mon..."

I followed her over the side, and we climbed onto the metal trussing underneath the roadway. It was a surprisingly nice place to sit and talk. For starters, there was no one around – at least no one that looked closely enough to see us. The noise of the city life was still out there, but it was more subdued and distant now, drowned out by the relaxing sound of the water moving below us and the occasional whoosh of a car passing by overhead. And then there was the view – all the skyscrapers of the financial district were in plain sight, framed by the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. It was very nearly perfect. We didn't go there for the view, though. We went there to talk.

"It's actually really beautiful at night, isn't it?" She asked, legs swinging freely over the ledge like a schoolgirl.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"I actually like it better than the view from the Empire State Building. I mean, looking down on everything from above is nice, but this view... it has character. Don't you think so?"

"Character... well, you would be the one to know about that, wouldn't you?"

"It doesn't work on cities," she replied, looking at me with a sly smile, "I only read people."

"Right. So, what do you see in me? I mean, right now..."

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she looked into mine. For a moment there, I forgot what we were talking about – it was just such a magical thing, gazing into her eyes like that.

"You seem sad... that we're almost out of time, right?"

"Well, yes, but I'm happy to be here."

"Yeah, me too."

"What else do you see?"

"Oh, I dunno. A lot of things. You seemed to be a little distracted when I was staring at you. And now you're looking at the river because you're embarrassed that I noticed. And earlier, when you were throwing all that money around with the carriage driver and at Tiffany's, I think you were showing off just a little bit, now that you're rich, and all."

I hadn't even noticed at the time, but when I thought about it, she was right. She was spot-on with every observation, which meant she knew where this was headed next.

"Coraline... you know what else is on my mind. It's been there the entire weekend."

"No... seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

Normally, she was a pretty good liar, but I didn't believe her. She knew.

"You do know. I think that's why you wanted to come here – so we could just talk."

"Well, yes... I admit, everything we did yesterday – and Friday night – it was fun, and all, but I wanted some time for us to just be together. Sometimes it's nice to just be."

"That's true. It is nice. So listen, I was hoping we could, um... talk about-"

"Hey look – over there," she interrupted, pointing up at the sky. "There's a star poking through the clouds. And... another one, right there. Do you see it?"

"Yeah, I see it. It's nice."

"I'm gonna have to give Harriet a hard time about it. She's slacking off."

She was trying to dodge the subject again. Well this time, I wasn't going to let her. I needed to know about 'us.' I needed answers.

"How long are we going to do this?" I asked, looking out across the city.

"Do what?"

"Keep avoiding the subject."

"Grant... I-"

"What are we, Coraline?"

I turned and looked into her eyes, which wore the pain and uncertainty that was in her heart. We remained locked in that gaze for a long moment as her mouth opened to speak, but said nothing. Finally, she looked away, answering my question in a barely-audible voice.

"I don't know how to answer you."

"Answer me with the truth. What are we? Are we friends? Lovers? Somewhere in between? That question's been driving me mad for nine years. What are we?"

"I don't know, Grant. It's confusing. And complicated."

"Why? What is there to be confused about? Is it really such a horrible proposition – the idea of being in love with me? Coraline, I lo-"

"Don't," she interrupted, cutting off the phrase she knew was coming. "Don't... just... just don't. I'm not ready to have this conversation, alright? Grant, my feelings for you are real, and... I think you know that they go beyond friendship. There are too many other things in the way right now, and..."

"I know it's complicated, Coraline. I just... if I had a definition to go by..."

"Do we have to put a label on it? I like spending time with you, you like spending time with me. Can't we just leave it at that – at least for now?" She reached over and grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers together. "We only have a couple of hours left. I don't want to spend them arguing. Can we just talk about something else, for now?"

What could I say? She did have a point. As frustrating as our relational ambiguity was, I still loved her, and cherished every moment of time with her like a dying man his last breath. I held her hand, and we talked, and it was good.

We sat there for the next few hours, talking and laughing like old friends as we watched the sun come up over the water, coloring the clouded sky like a magnificent oil painting. Eventually, our time came to an end, and though I still didn't have all the answers I was hoping for, I felt satisfied enough just having time with Coraline. There was no way I could have left New York disappointed. I went with her to the airport to meet up with Wesley and Harriet, said a final farewell to all three of my dear friends, and just like that, they were gone, heading back to a place I could never go.

The sudden mood swing when they left was immense. It was as if the sun had disappeared from the world completely, and everything had become drab and dreary. I stood there at the plane terminal for hours, unsure of what to do next, and unmotivated to do anything at all. Eventually, I gathered the resolve to go back to the hotel and prepare to return to Montana. I was feeling lonelier than ever before – I needed to be around friends.

I sulked all the way back to the hotel, making the trip on foot to give myself more time to think, which in this case, was a bad thing. All my thoughts were spinning into a whirlpool of depression as I walked through the ornate lobby, up the elevator and down the seemingly endless pathway back to my room.

I stopped halfway down the hall.

There, arms crossed, leaning against my door, was a familiar face, though one I didn't expect to see here.

"Hello, Grant," he said with a neutral expression. "Let's talk."