Chapter 1
Jane
February
The city appeared alive as people of various ages bustled down the sidewalks. Some in their designer jeans and winter coats with earmuffs of fluff over their ears, holding shopping bags and scrolling through their phones with their tech friendly gloves, while others were dressed in business attire and long coats, carrying briefcases, or in scrubs poking out from under bulky heavy coats, as they headed to or from the local hospital in the early evening sunlight, which gave everyone and everything a reddish orange glow. Cars — mostly those big yellow taxies — zipped down the street, zigging and zagging through traffic trying to make it to the next intersection before everyone else. It was loud and comforting in that big city vibe kind of way and I enjoyed it as I sat at my desk, ten stories up looking down at them as I attempted to work on my next novel.
I'd been successful so far, well enough that I could move to New York City from Akron, Ohio. Now I just had to maintain my success and produce another NYT best seller, and I'd be able to afford another year or two here in this amazing city. It didn't matter what time of day I sat down to write because the city was always busy. People were always out, shopping, going to restaurants, clubs, work, and who knew what else. It made me feel like I was part of something grand, being here.
It was all so different from Akron. Granted Akron wasn't exactly small, there were nearly two-hundred-thousand people living there, and it was the fifth largest city in Ohio, but compared to New York City? There were literally eight-million more people here than in Akron. So many people to observe, to create stories about… that's what I did. I loved to people watch and create stories for them. Some of them I turned into actual books, like the one I was working on now.
It was another medical thriller. I'd seen a man, a doctor I'd presumed in my head, headed into New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan Hospital, and come up with my new main character. Dr. Phillip Cantor, a surgeon and amateur detective. Like the man I'd seen, he was tall, with broad shoulders, short-cropped blond hair, and bright blue eyes. He was in his late thirties and had never married, though he never lacked for dates. I liked the idea of him being single and waiting for the perfect Mrs. Right.
As I sat, pondering my new plot, my phone rang. Normally, I'd set it to mute, but I'd forgotten to do that and now it was begging for me to answer it. I knew who it was by the ringtone, but I wasn't sure I wanted to answer it. She was only going to badger me to move back to Ohio. Like I hadn't been home to visit for Christmas two months ago. However, if I didn't answer, she'd just call back continuously until I answered.
Sighing, I scooped up my phone from the table and answered. "Hello, Mom."
"Janie! Finally, I thought you'd never pick up the phone, it nearly went to voicemail. Are you okay? Have you been attacked? I know there are a bunch of gangs and criminals in New York City, I worry—"
"I'm fine, Mom. I promise. No gangs or criminals anywhere near me. The NYPD does an excellent job at keeping the peace, you don't have to worry." I sighed again with exasperation. We went through this nearly every time she called. She hated the fact that I'd moved so far away and to 'the big city' as she called it. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm good. Mrs. Jenson, you know, Karen and Kyle's mother? She's running for city council; you'd think it was the presidency the way she's been out campaigning. It's only February for goodness sakes! I don't know if I can take it for nine months! And then there's Mr. Hooper, he had a fall, silly man was up on a ladder in the snow!"
"What was he doing on a ladder?" I asked, knowing she was just going to give me the run down on all of the neighbors anyway, I might as well participate in the conversation.
"He'd been up on his roof trying to get the Christmas decorations down. Janice, you know his wife, she told him to wait for Jim to do it, but would he listen? No. I swear, men just do not listen to their wives anymore."
"Mom, Dad always listens to you."
"Your father is the exception, dear. We went to church yesterday, it was a lovely service, I think the pastor is really doing something for our community. Why he's grown our congregation in just the three months he's been here. Didn't you enjoy his Christmas service?"
"Sure, Mom. It was nice. Very Christmassy." It had been a nice midnight service.