Sundays at Tiffany's - James Patterson [3]
She remembered! A birthday party! I thought, and suddenly I forgave her for everything else.
“Come along now. I hear Tiffany’s calling.” Vivienne spun on her four-inch heels and headed for the exit, Jason close behind her.
Michael and I both got up. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, right on the frizzy hair that pained Jason so.
“See you tomorrow,” he said. “Miss you already.”
“Miss you already, too.”
I looked ahead and saw my mother’s slim, tan legs disappearing into the St. Regis’s revolving door. She glanced back. “Jane-Sweetie, come! Tiffany’s.”
I ran to catch up.
I was always doing that.
Four
POOR, POOR, POOR JANE! Poor, poor little girl! The next morning, Michael waited outside Jane’s fancy Park Avenue building, as he always did. It was a good thing he was invisible: his wrinkled corduroys, faded yellow golf shirt, and docksiders wouldn’t cut it in this pricey neighborhood.
He was thinking about something pretty amazing that Jane had said when she was only four years old. Vivienne had been heading off to Europe for a month. He’d been concerned about how Jane would cope. But Jane had shrugged it off and said, “Love means you can never be apart.” Michael knew he would never forget that — out of a four-year-old’s mouth and brain, no less. But that was Jane, wasn’t it? She was an incredible girl.
So what was he going to do with himself on this lovely day while Jane was locked away in school? Maybe a big breakfast over at the Olympia Diner — pancakes, sausage, eggs, keep the buttered rye toast coming. He might even get together with a couple of other imaginary friends who worked in the neighborhood. What exactly were the duties of an imaginary friend? Pretty much just to make it easier for the child to fit into the world without feeling too alone or scared. Hours? Whatever it took. Benefits? The incredibly pure love between a kid and an imaginary friend. It didn’t get better than that. Where did he fit in the great cosmic plan? Well, no one had ever told him.
Michael looked at his watch, an ancient Timex that kept on ticking just as the ads promised it would. It was exactly 8:29. Jane would be down at 8:30, just like every other weekday morning. Jane never kept anyone waiting. Such a sweetheart.
Then he saw her, but pretended not to, as always.
“Gotcha!” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Whoa!” Michael said. “You’re sneakier than a pickpocket in Oliver Twist.”
Jane grinned, her smile lighting up the little face that he couldn’t get enough of. She hitched her schoolbag onto her small shoulder, and they headed off to school.
“I didn’t exactly sneak up,” she said. “You were lost somewhere interesting in your thoughts.” Jane had a cute way of talking out of the side of her mouth when she was with him, so people didn’t think she was loony. Sometimes he let people see him; sometimes he didn’t. She could never be sure which — or why. “Life is a mystery,” he would say.
As soon as they were out of the doorman’s sight, she took his hand. Michael loved that more than he could ever say. It made him feel like — he didn’t know. A dad?
“What did Raoul pack for your lunch?” he asked. “Wait — let me guess. Squirrel on whole wheat, wilted iceberg lettuce, hold the three-day-old mayo?”
Jane tugged on his hand. “You’re goofy,” she said.
“Nah, I’m Sneezy.”
“More like Dopey.” Jane laughed.
A couple of minutes later — too soon — they were at the tall, imposing school gates, only a block and a half from Jane’s apartment building. The entrance was a sea of little girls in navy jumpers over simple white blouses. They all wore either Mary Janes or saddle shoes, socks turned down just so.
“Tomorrow’s the special day,” Jane said, looking down at her shoes so her classmates wouldn’t see her talking to an imaginary friend. “I just might get my puppy. I don’t even care what kind anymore. Maybe he’ll be at my party. First we have to see The Problem with