The Address(97)

CHAPTER THIRTY



New York City, September 1985


Bailey’s work at Melinda’s apartment was wrapping up. Luckily, most of the major design decisions had already been made, as Melinda was now distracted by plans for her blowout birthday party, to be held at the Palladium’s Michael Todd Room in two days’ time. Renzo had stopped by the apartment with the building architect a few days earlier for an inspection—the first time they’d seen each other since the high tea at Kenneth’s—and they’d been polite at first. But his laughter had gotten louder and crazier with each room he entered. Which had made Bailey laugh. It’d been a relief to make fun of the renovation, instead of feeling guilty for having given a grand old lady the face-lift from hell.

They’d met for coffee the next day, but kept the conversation light. Renzo was politely sympathetic about her father’s refusal to be tested and didn’t push further, but the disappointment in his eyes made her want to burst into tears. He knew the truth about her. Her weaknesses, her struggles. Which was reason enough for Bailey to keep her distance. She’d had plenty of time to think the past few days, and she’d come to the conclusion that her dad and Renzo had been right to question her motives. This crazy goose chase to figure out her lineage was in fact a way to avoid dealing with who she really was, and the misguided effort had left her drained and lost.

She hadn’t spoken to Jack since the disastrous conversation about the DNA testing, but she planned on heading down to the shore next weekend, to make peace and apologize. Better to do so in person.

“Where did you go? I need help with this.”

Melinda’s voice cut through Bailey’s fog of thoughts. Right. The drawer pulls for the kitchen cabinets still needed to be picked out. They’d headed to Simon’s Hardware on Third Avenue early so that Melinda could make it to Fred’s office by eleven. Bailey pointed to a couple of options that she thought might work, but didn’t push back when Melinda chose lime-green plastic ones instead.

“And I forgot to tell you, Fred wants you in the room at the meeting today.”

A shard of guilt-induced panic sliced through Bailey. “Why?”

“No idea. Maybe he wants you as a witness, since you were there when we found everything. Tony will be there as well.”

When Bailey found everything. She didn’t bother to correct her.

Great. One more humiliation to suffer through. Then again, in the past couple of weeks, Melinda had been more than kind. Probably felt sorry for her dirt-poor, messed-up cousin, and she even suggested Bailey stay on for a couple of months in the guest room. But Bailey knew where that road lay: mornings of waking up to wineglasses piled up in the sink and a coating of white powder on the Lucite coffee table. Bailey’s life had been artificially propped up post-rehab, as the Dakota had become her refuge from the storms that raged outside its thick walls. It was time to move on with her life and start over again.

And for the first time in years, she had a plan, instead of blowing wherever the wind took her. She’d found a fifth-floor walk-up apartment in the West Eighties that would be available next month, and sweet-talked the landlord into giving her first dibs. Once Melinda’s job was completed, she’d sign up at a temp agency and answer phones or type letters, whatever it took to support herself and pay off her debt to Tristan while she cultivated clients for her new business, Bailey Camden Design.

The waiting room of Fred’s office offered a floor-to-ceiling view north. Bailey stood close to the glass, taking in the expanse of the landscape, from New Jersey to the Bronx to Long Island, while Tony and Melinda gabbed on about the upcoming party, their voices too loud for the hushed environment.

The elevator opened and a man stepped out, looking completely out of place. He wore a ratty denim jacket, and the lower half of his face was covered in a bushy ginger beard.

But the eyes were the same celestial blue as Melinda’s.

“Manvel!”

Bailey went and gave him a big hug. He smelled of leather and peppermint. She’d always enjoyed spending time with Melinda’s twin, even though most often his sister would insist they play hide-and-seek and then run off to the roof of the Dakota, leaving him behind. But now that Bailey knew she and Manvel shared a connection with Kenneth, and that Manvel had found refuge in his downstairs apartment, she felt closer to him than to Melinda. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He scratched at his beard. “Can’t wait to get out of here and head south again, though.”

Melinda gave him a cursory hug and introduced him to Tony. “Sorry to drag you back to the big, bad city, my shaggy brother, but we had some excitement and I figured you’d want a piece of the action.”

Manvel shook his head. “Action’s not my thing. This is all for you, sis.”

Melinda purred with delight. “Well, thank you for that.”

“No thanks necessary. I knew you would’ve showed up in Montgomery and drawn my blood yourself if I didn’t do your bidding.”

“You know me so well. Now here we are, together again. About to get the results that tell us if we’re rich, or really rich.”

The receptionist spoke, her voice a whispered rebuke. “He’ll see you now.”

The group awkwardly maneuvered through the door of Fred’s office in order of rank: Melinda, Tony, Manvel, then Bailey.