Elizabeth had been in New York city for a little over seven months now. After a hellish summer of constant noise, one hundred degree days of misery, two inch cockroaches, and infernos on the subway platforms, she was looking forward to the changing atmosphere of the season. She was thrilled that she managed to ace her two classes.
The intimidation that she originally felt at going back to school and taking on something completely new to her had diminished as soon as she had gotten her first A. She was going to continue her courses in the fall. She was looking forward to being in a classroom again. She was busier than ever at Cityscoop, the parent company had recently began broadcasting a weekly television show and featured various events that were happening around the city.
Elizabeth was very pleased with the increase in her salary as a production assistant, although that left her even less time to have much of a life outside of work. The sun was already lower in the sky, the air was cooler, and she was getting accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city. So what if the subway smelled and she had to haul her groceries in her shopping cart?
She had considered getting a car, but after seeing the reality of getting parking and the ridiculous grid lock on a daily basis, she quickly scrapped that idea. Her mother had called her recently to announce that her sister had given birth to a baby boy, who Jessica decided to name Jake.
I know it's hard for you Elizabeth, Alice Wakefield said.
But I wanted to tell you, before you heard it from anyone else. Her mother sighed over the receiver.
Jessica is already on a diet, she said.
I told her she needs to eat well so she can breast feed, but she won't listen to me. We're both very happy, your father and I. But we wish the situation was different. We wish you were home!
I know Mom, Elizabeth said, tuning out on the rest of the conversation. The last thing she wanted to hear was how blessed they all were with the new baby. Elizabeth knew she shouldn't take her wrath out on an innocent child. It wasn't his fault that Todd and Jessica were his parents. She softened her composure and listened to her mother oohing and ahhing about her new grandchild.
But there was something else on her mind. On opening the letter from Mr Regis, she was most surprised to learn that Devon had left her his entire estate. At first she was thrilled about the money. This money was the answer to her prayers. She could publish her own books, perhaps start her own publishing company if she wanted. She could buy herself a nice one bedroom apartment on the Upper East or West side, whichever one suited her fancy. But her dreams were short lived.
I can't keep the money, it just wouldn't be right. She thought long and hard about it, spent several nights curled up in her little bed, dreaming of laying in a king sized bed with fluffy soft blankets and a pillow soft mattress top. She dreamed about sharing her new found wealth with her parents, and with Steven.
Jessica won't get a cent,! she thought angrily.
After going through it over and over in her head, she decided that she had to decline the fortune. She remembered the stories Devon told her about his family in Ohio and his criminally inclined uncle who lived in Las Vegas. Elizabeth knew enough about organized crime to know that accepting this money might make her and even her family a possible target.
If she took the money, his uncle, or someone in his circle could potentially come after her. The fantasies of herself becoming a publishing magnate quickly faded away. She thought of Devon's aunt and uncle. They had two sons, from what she remembered.
They probably needed the money more than she did. It was better to let the family have it. They were his blood, his kin, and she felt they had more rights to it than her. Elizabeth put the letter back in her closet and promised she would make the ultimate decision before the end of the year. Mr Regis would just have to wait.
She put away the thoughts of babies and inheritances out of her head and focused on her work. Her latest assignment was covering a fashion show for pampered pets throughout the city. What a day it had been! She had been covered in dog hairs, with dirt on her hands, and blackened grease on her face. It had been one of her most interesting and grossest days in New York city so far.
It started with her going to Central Park South for the fashion show. She'd be meeting her producer Annette there. Annette was in her mid forties, was the ultimate professional, who loved to gossip, travel, and from her corpulent figure, never shied from food.
She never took any flack from their boss Mike, and Elizabeth was full of respect for her. She was very intelligent, and had a kind heart under her somewhat brash demeanor. The two of them found they had much in common and became fast friends. Elizabeth often accompanied her on assignments, taking notes and helping with the overall production of their television show.
The event was being held at the Plaza hotel, an icon of wealth and luxury that towered over West fifty ninth street and the entrance to the park. A menagerie of animals, majority of them dogs and cats, greeted her upon entrance to the venue. Elizabeth had always loved animals. To her surprise there were a couple of iguanas decked out in tiny leather jackets and spiked collars.
Someone had brought a miniature alligator wearing a Santa costume. It was truly the ugliest thing Elizabeth had ever seen, but she smiled as it's owner as she explained that her "baby" who she named Rambo was the joy of her life. There were dogs in tutus, cats in lingerie and tuxedos, and a couple of macaws wearing bikinis. Someone had a pig dressed up as a pirate.
She made her way around the studio, taking notes and speaking to the owners. She couldn't help but think of her family's golden retriever Prince Albert, who had died last year. How she loved that dog! Jessica had brought him home as a puppy and the two of them had schemed to hide him from their parents while trying to warm them up to the idea of having a dog in the house.
Elizabeth went around the large room, interviewing the different owners and giving instructions to the camera crew and photographers. After three hours of working, she had about enough of hearing stories about various animal antics and would give anything to get off her feet.
Why did she wear those new shoes today,? she thought, looking at her new pair of heels. The fashion show was just about finished. All of the pets were given their time to shine by walking down a small runway, showing off their costumes.
Elizabeth laughed as a long haired chihuahua started barking at the camera crew. Shhhhh, an elegantly dressed woman, who Elizabeth assumed was her owner, tried to calm the dog.
You behave Chichi, she scolded, as she attempted to remove a black mask on the dog's tiny head. She managed to get the mask off when all of a sudden, Chichi ran out of the dressing room.
An anguished cry broke out as the dog made it's way to a side entrance, facing Central Park.
Please catch her, my baby, my baby, her owner wailed.
Elizabeth watched helplessly as Chichi ran out the door and into the street. The tiny chihuahua was no match for busy streets near the hotel. The dog's mistress moved with the speed of a woman less than half her age. Elizabeth ran to the door and chased after her.
There she is. Oh my god, she's gone into the subway! Please help me.
Elizabeth dashed down the subway stairs, her heels groaning in agony as she stepped on the grimy concrete.
How did I get myself into this,? she thought as she jumped over the turnstile and climbed down into the tracks. The poor dog had found itself in the worst place possible and here she was , in the muck and filth, trying not to fall. She grabbed hold of the dog and placed him in the hands of her distressed owner.
Oh thank you thank you, you saved my life, she heard a relieved voice above her head.
A crowd cheered as Elizabeth was hoisted back onto the platform.
You're my hero, the dog's mistress gushed. I don't know what I would have done if she went down the tunnel, she moaned.
Tears were streaming down her face.
It was nothing, Elizabeth said, embarrassed by the attention of the gathering crowd.
What's your name young lady? I'm Mrs Abigail Wexford. I'm sorry about your dress, the woman said, looking at the greasy black stains that were now on the fabric. Let me help you clean up.
It's alright, Elizabeth said. I'm Elizabeth. Elizabeth Wakefield. I don't actually appear on camera. One of my co workers is the hostess and presenter. I just put it all together behind the scenes. I'll just go back to the office and clean up.
Oh no, I insist. My apartment is two blocks from here. We can send your dress to the cleaners.
It's not that bad, Elizabeth said. I can wash the spots off in the lady's room and dry it right there.
I'm so grateful. How about I take you to lunch? I was supposed to meet my grandson at the Palm Court, but he's got other plans. He prefers the company of his young friends, can you imagine! So you'll be doing me a favor really, by accompanying me this afternoon. I don't know what I would have done if…., she sobbed as the screech of the arriving train drowned out the noise of her tears.
The dog immediately started barking at the oncoming train. Elizabeth laughed at the tiny little creature trying to take on the huge chunk of steel that was barreling down the tracks.
All right, Elizabeth agreed as she wiped her wet face. Let me tell my producer first. I'm pretty much done with work for the afternoon. They walked up the stairs and out of the subway station and made their way back to the hotel. Elizabeth found Annette and explained the situation. Too bad we didn't get that on camera, she grinned. Go on, enjoy yourself. We can put the show together tomorrow.
Elizabeth had been to the Plaza before on assignment, but could never afford to dine there. She entered the main lobby, admiring the polished gold laced marble detailed floor, and the elaborate crystal chandeliers that dazzled beautifully from above, looking down at the patrons lucky enough to grace the sophisticated space.
She went into the bathroom and tried her best to clean up. After washing the muck off her face and hands, she wiped the stains off the dress. She didn't look immaculate, but she was presentable enough for fine dining. She walked into the elegant restaurant where Mrs Wexford sat at a table, waiting for her.
She couldn't help but look in awe at the dramatic stained glass that made up the entire ceiling of the Palm Court.
This place makes the Valley Country Club look like the Dairi Burger, Elizabeth thought to herself.
A waiter greeted Mrs Wexford enthusiastically, as if they were old friends, and Elizabeth figured that her tea partner frequented the place often. They were seated in French style chairs and given the gold trimmed menus. Elizabeth's eyes almost popped out of her head when she saw the cost of the bottled water.
Where's ChiChi? Elizabeth asked.
I sent her to my apartment with my maid, Mrs Wexford smiled at her. She's very temperamental these days. She's already sixteen years old, which is ancient in dog years. My apartment is near by. Home for me is Greenwich.
Give us the usual Mosby, Mrs Wexford requested, when the waiter approached their table.
So where are you from, Elizabeth,? Mrs Wexford asked, catching Elizabeth almost gaping at the prices. Let me guess. You're from the mid west. Wisconsin? Minnesota?
Elizabeth laughed, putting the menu down. I'm from California actually. I've been living in New York since April.
And do you like it?
Well, it's certainly a lot more fast paced than it is where I'm from. I'm getting used to it though, all the people, all the excitement. It's not only New York. Part of my job is always being on the lookout for various social events around the tri state area. We cover quite a few events out on Long Island.
Mrs Wexford's face soured, as the waiter returned with a couple of Gatsby Mint Juleps.
I hope you don't mind that I ordered for both of us, she said.
I can't stand some of those South Hampton people. How about this Elizabeth. We're having a polo match two weeks from now in Greenwich. It's the beginning of the polo season. My grandson is playing, and there's nothing he likes more than parading his prowess at the matches. Why don't you come to Greenwich to cover it? We'll be having a party to celebrate in the evening.
Elizabeth raised her brow. Celebrate?
Yes, our local team always wins. My grandson is a very good player. You can be my guest for the weekend.
All right, Elizabeth agreed, as she sipped her drink. This is delicious, she remarked. I'll talk to my boss about it. I know they've covered polo matches on Long Island before.
Have you ever been to Greenwich?
Elizabeth shook her head. No, I've never been there before.
Oh, you'll like it. It's a lovely town. It's nice of you to join me Elizabeth. I hate eating alone. Nothing sadder than an old lady like me, dining all by herself. I'll give you my phone number. You make sure to call me and arrange to come to Greenwich. I can have my driver meet you.
The waiter returned, this time with an elaborate tiered tray, filled with petite sandwiches, mini pastries and an assortment of scones.
Oh no, Elizabeth insisted. I wouldn't dream of putting you out so much. I am more than happy to take the train. I know it's less than an hour away from Grand Central.
You're sure dear,? Mrs Wexford said. Don't be shy, dig right in, she encouraged Elizabeth, as she grabbed one of the sandwiches.
Yes, quite sure, Elizabeth smiled, as she chose a raspberry scone. Mrs Wexford wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to her.