It was First Night, Saratoga’s New Year’s Eve celebration where galleries, churches, and event spaces opened their doors. We walked around town, pausing for art installations and live musical performances, popping into bars for mulled cider or hot toddies.
For years, I’d helped Mallory organize a yoga class that started at 10:30 and ended minutes before midnight fireworks. This year she’d informed me that I was taking the night off. While I appreciated that she knew her brother’s flight details, I didn’t like being so easily replaced.
“Where did Mallory and Kate find the courage to start their businesses?”
“I think there are two kinds of entrepreneurs,” I said. “People who want empires and those who stumble into it out of necessity.”
“And which were they?” he asked.
“Necessity. Mallory calls herself unemployable and I believe it. That girl …” I shook my head, “she is not good at following directions.”
He squeezed my hand. “That’s why she needs you.”
“At first she taught every class and grew a loyal following. Even when money was tight, she was happier than working for horrible bosses, joking that she couldn’t sexually harass herself,” I said. He smirked but also stiffened protectively. "But now? She might be ready for an empire."
When I shivered, he pulled me inside Kate’s art gallery. I loved it here: the bold artwork against the white walls, each painting and sculpture a masterpiece. Alex put on that facade of cool indifference, like appearing unimpressed made him sophisticated. Behind his back, Kate rolled her eyes.
“Any Katherine Martino originals?” Alex asked. “Nick reminded me that on the day we met, I promised to buy one.”
Kate shifted her weight. “I’ve never sold originals here.”
“Why not? He once said your work was the most promising he’d ever seen.”
“If only art critics had as much faith in my talent as your brother used to. Unfortunately,” she shrugged, maybe too casually, “it’s more lucrative to sell well-known artists.”
Alex crossed his arms. “The offer was to buy yours.”
The standoff stretched uncomfortably until Kate’s assistant Bec cleared their throat. “Kate, what about the mountain? When I tried to sell it, you said that a Clarke should get the first right of refusal.”
Kate assessed Alex head to toe, then nodded to Bec, who went searching in the back room. I was relieved he didn’t show his cocky ‘I know I won’ smile.
Cruz tuned his guitar quietly, then turned nobs on the amp. “Gacelita? Could you pop outside for a quick sound check?”
I gave silent hand gestures as Cruz adjusted his equipment. Alex contemplatively gazed around the small Arts District at the wreaths hung on every lamp post, the lights strung between them, and the outdoor heaters on the patio of the nearby Irish pub. “Was Saratoga Springs always like this?”
I signaled to turn up the volume and asked distractedly, “Like what?”
“I don’t remember it being this quaint.”
Amplified from inside, Cruz announced a Foo Fighters ballad, sending a shiver down my spine with the lyrics: “I’m in the sky tonight, there I can keep by your side, watching the wide world riot and hiding out, I’ll be coming home next year.”
He sang about Icarus, the hubris of flying so high his wings melted, and the downward crash to reality. Cruz arched a brow through the glass, in a silent question about the sound quality. I forced a smile and gave him a thumbs up, and he kept playing, “Take it till life runs out, no one can find us now living with our heads underground.”
Next to me, a hand reached out.
Take it till life runs out, the lyrics advised. So I slid my hand into his. He wrapped his arm around my waist and I brought my hand to his chest, swaying in a bubble around us that couldn’t be breached. Pedestrians gave a wide berth as the world shrank to the two of us, clinging to scraps of time.
Cruz closed his eyes to give us privacy. I followed his example, closing my eyes and feeling Alex’s strong arms encircling me, his chin dipping to rest his cheek against my hair. My palm marked his steady heartbeat. 14 hours until his flight. How many heartbeats did we have left?
“Everything’s all right up here,” Cruz’s voice sang out the final lyrics, “And if I come down, I’ll be coming home next year.” A stillness fell over the street as the final chord echoed. I tried to pull back, but like that first night, he wouldn’t let me go. His unsteady breath lifted in a cloud of vapor. I looked up at Alexander, his face a cool mask but his eyes aching with the same melancholy I felt.
When I stepped away, Alexander pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, pulled out his wallet, and dropped a twenty-dollar bill into Cruz’s open guitar case. He strode confidently to the door, held it open for me, and then walked to the restroom.
Once the door clicked shut, I slumped onto an uncomfortable couch and dropped my head against the cushion. Kate approached slowly. So quiet I almost missed it, she said, “So you fell in love with him anyway.”
We’d made that promise not to fall in love. It felt silly now, holding out my pinkie like kids on the last day of summer camp swearing we’d write. I’d broken the promise, sometime between the mistletoe and the cheeseburgers, but hadn’t even let myself acknowledge it. What would be the point?
But Kate had asked, so I tilted my head to make sure we were alone, then nodded.
She sighed, then said in a bitter tone, “Those fucking irresistible Clarke men.”
The bathroom door opened to reveal a composed Alexander. “Did you find one?”
“We found one,” Kate said and flipped around a painting of a sunrise in soft pastel tones, displaying the first blush of dawn over snow-capped mountains.
“It looks so familiar,” he murmured, tapping his lip. Kate stiffened defensively until he pointed to the left side, “It’s the view off the cabin deck, but this section is gone now.”
Kate seemed impressed. “An ice storm took those trees down six years ago.”
He pulled his bottom lip, then said decisively, “I’ll take it.”
“I haven’t told you the price.”
“You told me then I wouldn’t get the friends and family discount.”
“Maybe I would have been nicer if you got my name right.”
“Maybe I didn’t deserve the discount then.”
