CHAPTER 13

The unexpected text with the simple "thank you" had made his day. Though he would have preferred a call, he reminded himself, "beggars can't be choosy." With his mood elevated, he sat back and thought about his next step. That Thursday he slept like a baby.

Friday he was due at the lab for a meeting with his thesis advisor. The meeting with Dr. Burroughs had gone well, and he'd been offered an assistants position for the upcoming year. Reece had been surprised by the offer, as those positions usually went to doctoral students.

"Mr. Castle, I've noticed you've cut back on your lab hours," asserted Dr. Burroughs.

"Yes Sir, but it has not affected my work. I hope it does not present a problem," added a slightly concerned Reece.

"Quite the opposite. When you lock yourself in a lab it's easy to lose track of what's really important. Things like family, friends, enjoying life, experiencing new things outside of work. Our brains need a break as well. I'm convinced we think best when we're relaxed. I'm happy to see you balancing things out. Glad to have you back Mr. Castle, I have a lot of work waiting for you next year," added Burroughs.

Reece practically skipped out of the lab. However, the celebratory mood took a swift halt when he'd pulled out his phone to call Sydney. He spent the rest of the evening incessantly checking her flight information.

Saturday he'd formulated the next step in his "Win Sydney Back" campaign. It was a two part mission and even Jake had approved. Now, if he could only pull it off.

The last three weekends he'd not stopped by the lab or picked up a scientific journal as light reading. He was missing work less and less and Sydney more and more. Sunday he joined Jake for lunch, but later begged off Jake's attempts to cheer him up and headed to SoHo. There along the cobblestone road of Mercer Street, he found his way to the cupcake place Sydney so loved. He ordered a red velvet cupcake, found an empty seat amongst the few tables and sat to enjoy his treat. He recalled Dr. Burroughs words; he needed to not lose sight of what was important. His work had endless possibilities, the research was revolutionary, but his life with Sydney was just that, his life. He had been taking her for granted. He couldn't remember a time when Sydney Wetherton was not part of his life, and he did not want to find out what it would be without her. He snapped a picture of the crumb laden table and empty wrapper, remembered his father's word and filed it away under "cheesy." Someday he'd show it to her.

Monday he was up at four. Sydney's flight departed at seven, his plan was in motion. For this one, he had called on help from his Uncle Ryan, who was a hopeless romantic. Explaining he wanted to surprise Sydney, but skirting over the current situation Ryan had agreed to assist. As Sydney waited for her plane to board, two of New York's finest approached.

"Miss? Are you Sydney Wetherton? One of the officers inquired as the other looked at her picture on his phone.

"Yes. Is there a problem officer?"

"No ma'am we just have a delivery for you from Lt. Ryan," he declared as he handed her a Starbucks cup.

Along the side, marked in typical black marker it read, Reece. She thanked the officers, took a sip and smiled. English breakfast tea latte, two sugars; just the way she liked it. Reece, a coffeeholic would never agree tea was a morning beverage. As far as he was concern coffee was mandated any time before noon. Again, he'd surprised her. She boarded her flight, cup in hand.

His phone pinged at six-fifty. A simple picture of Sydney's hand holding the Starbucks cup; nothing more. He pulled up Ryan's number and texted him a thank you. It was going to take a village, and he had the best villagers around.

He spent the remainder of the week catching up on classes, even managing to get to the Y with Jake. With any luck, he'd have his thesis completed by next January and sail through his last year. He took the time to check his doctoral choices, and for once started to look at other options. Besides, if Sydney didn't take him back, he would want to get as far away from New York as possible.

He kept track of some of the activity she'd posted on social media. He regretted not being with her at Fisherman's Warf, and Golden Gate Bridge, and smiled when he saw the grin on her face when she visited Lombard Street. Friday morning he put phase two of his Sydney plan in motion. She'd be back Friday, four days before Valentine's Day. He could not recall Valentine's Day without Sydney.

The conference had been eye opening and tremendously informative. Sydney had learned about establishing and monitoring compliance rules, managing resources, and building community partnerships with both the public and private sector. She enjoyed various workshops dealing with fundraising, donor relations, and social media; she had also made new friends. The entire week she waited for another Reece ambush, but it never came.

Friday she bid farewell to her colleagues as they headed home. She was on the red-eye back to New York and would not be departing until late that night. She grabbed a cab to the Japanese Tea Garden at Golden Gate Park and enjoyed the tranquil setting and views. She marveled at the array of tea, and eagerly listened to the story behind each one she drank. The visit provided her a quiet and retrospective space to think about her current situation. One thing for certain, sooner or later she would have to talk to Reece, face to face. By three o'clock she was headed back to the hotel for a shower and a nap.

As luck would have it her flight had been delayed. Grateful she had rested, by the time she boarded an hour later she was already exhausted. At five feet seven inches, the cramped seating was not built for comfort, it would be a long flight. Riding an aisle seat across the country, she just hoped her seatmates had strong bladders. She arrived at JFK at six twenty a.m. feeling like she walked there. Seated next to a rather large man and his wife, the gentleman had snored like a freight train the entire flight.

With just a carry-on and a large purse, the moment the seatbelt sign was off Sydney was ready to make a run for it. She was tired, her body ached and she was sleep deprived. All she wanted to do was get off that plane, find a cab and head home. Glad to be seated in row nine, her escape was quick. She cleared the gateway, only to be engulfed by the hustle and bustle of JFK. No matter the time of day, JFK was always a bevy of activity. She zigzagged her way through the terminal heading towards the exit. When she hit the clearing of the secured area there he was, a large man dressed in a white shirt and black tie, holding a sign "Sydney Wetherton."

"Excuse me, I'm Sydney Wetherton," she sheepishly declared.

"I'm Robert, your driver. I have a car outside. Do you have any additional luggage Miss?" he'd politely asked.

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure my agency did not contract a car service…"

The driver reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out an invoice and showed her. The pickup order indicated her name, flight, and drop-off location. It simply read paid in full. This smelled like Reece. She handed him her luggage and followed him out. Once inside the towncar, she pulled out her phone and texted Reece. If it was not him, she figured she was being kidnapped. At this point, she was too tired to care.

He smiled when he saw the simple word, "Thanks."

It had been rather easy. Having gotten access to her flight information, he'd simply called the car service his parents used and made arrangements. He had paid extra for a towncar and added a generous tip. In forty-five minutes Sydney would be home safe and sound, and that was good enough for him.

She sighed as the driver pulled up to her building. Relieved and delighted, she could not wait to get to bed. The driver refused her tip, adding it had all been taken care of, Sydney took her bag and thanked him. She walked into her apartment made a bee line for her room, stripped and took a quick shower; unpacking could wait. The minute her head hit the pillow she was out.

Reece hoped to hear from Sydney soon. It had been three weeks and he was desperate. She had not restricted his access to the calendar, but there was nothing new on it; perhaps she'd just stop posting her schedule. Sunday he pondered his next move. Maybe he'd call her and ask her to lunch. Monday his wish was granted, Sydney had contacted him.

She'd contemplated her next step all day Sunday. She had been delighted with all the thoughtful gestures Reece had demonstrated, but at the same time had wondered what he would have done had they not had the fight. Sunday she went home to visit her parents and talk to her mother. Well aware Tuesday was Valentine's Day she cried. Reece had always been her Valentine's. That night she'd made her decision.

He was sitting at his desk when he received the text. Not cryptic in the least the numerous clock emoji's made it loud and clear; she needed time. He was prepared to wait as long as it took. Miserable as he might be, Sydney Wetherton was worth the wait. He took a breath and replied, "As long as you need."

Tuesday, they were both miserable. Regardless of her wishes, he simply could not forego Valentine's Day without Sydney knowing he loved her. He had ordered an arrangement of her favorite flowers, sweat-peas, and lilies. The flowers had been delivered to her office. The note read, "Eighteen Valentine's Day's and counting. Love, Reece."

As March neared, the breezy temperatures of spring warmed the city. He checked Page Six for any articles or pictures. She had attended a children's charity where her organization had been instrumental in providing funding. The last Sunday in February there had been a picture of her bowling in a bowl-a-thon for elder care, Carter Gaylord Whitney, III in the background.

He had been tempted to send her flowers every day but continued to respect her wishes. With the pending arrival of March, ads for a new movie permeated the airwaves. Every station, every social media network, billboard, entertainment show, everywhere you turned you could not avoid being bombarded by previews for the remake of La La Land. The musical had been an award winning blockbuster in 2017; the remake was expected to be a huge success. He had been forced to sit through it one movie night. He'd had one of the damn songs stuck in his head for a week. He remembered Sydney mentioning its anticipated release back in December. With no luck in sight getting tickets for the opening day showing, he was going to need some help from his village.

When his grandmother passed away his parents had converted her school into a non-profit entity, offering scholarships and acting lessons through community theater productions. Meagan Hernandez had taken over the Martha Rogers Acting Institute. He called her for help.

Meagan had been surprised, but happy to see him stop by. Although the Castle's always attended the yearly school production and fundraiser, she did not often see the children. She remembered directing them in summer plays when they were young. Lily had taken to the theater like a chip off the old block, the twins, however, had been a hand-full.

"Reece, it's so good to see you. It is Reece right?" a smiling Meagan inquired.

"Yes, ma'am it's me," assured Reece as he leaned in to hug her.

"You boys were such devils! The minute your grandmother turned her back you relished confusing us. But Martha always put a stop to that nonsense. She loved you kids so much. And proud, my lord, she was so very proud of all of you," a wistful Meagan added.

"We love her very much too. We miss her every day," a somber Reece declared.

"Enough of the melancholia, Martha would be furious. Now tell me, what I can do for you," inquired Meagan.

Reece proceeds to explain he was looking for two tickets to the special opening day showing of the new La La Land movie in Times Square. He understood it was a tough order, but would appreciate any help. Reece followed Meagan into the office as she went about calling her contacts. Thirty-five minutes later, she placed her hand over her phone and smiled. "It's gonna cost you, sweetie," she'd mouthed. Reece shook his head and exhaled.

The fee had not been stiff at all. A hug and a kiss. Apparently someone his grandmother once helped now managed several theaters, Times Square Cinema among them. He promised to stop by more often, thanked her and said goodbye. He headed towards the theater off forty-second street, delighted to have been successful. When he approached the ticket counter the manager handed him an envelope simply addressed Martha Rogers. He thanked the manager, walked a few steps, and silently thanked his grandmother. He smiled, swearing he could hear her say, "Go get that girl, kiddo."

The movie would be opening the first day of spring, which this year fell on a Friday. It was just shy of three weeks away. He headed home to figure out how he would get the tickets to her.

Reece retreated to his room, admitting a huge display would not go over well. He kept repeating the K.I.S.S. principle to himself; Keep It Simple, Stupid. He pulled out the blank card he had left from his cupcake note and authored a simple message. "Dear Sydney, today is "I Want You to be Happy Day!" so, be happy. Take a friend, enjoy the show. Will be thinking of you, Love – Reece."

March 3rd he placed the card and tickets in a large manila envelope and called for a messenger service.

The large envelope had been placed on her desk and gone unnoticed. After lunch, she'd moved it atop the rest of the mail sitting in her inbox. By three o'clock, with the day's meetings and emergencies taken care of, she poured herself a cup of tea and sat to handle her mail. When she saw the card she smiled. She was shocked when the tickets fell out. She read the note, turned to the computer and googled March 3rd. Sure enough, March 3rd, was "I Want You to be Happy Day." The twins had inherited their father's flair for useless information, and silly holidays was one such thing. She literally laughed out loud, picked up her phone and called him.

He had just left his last class and was headed home. He'd been working himself into a massive headache. Having just entered the subway, the call had gone straight to voicemail. Twenty-five minutes later he walked into his apartment, poured himself a glass of water, and checked his phone. Sydney. Could his day get any worse? He held his breath as he listened to the voicemail. She'd gotten the tickets. They had left her speechless. She had a late meeting with the Board of Directors but would call him around nine. He was so excited he forgot all about his headache. He watched the clock tick away slowly. Nine o'clock could not come soon enough.