Forever by Anne Meredith

Author:Anne Meredith [Meredith, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732267510
Amazon: 1732267510
Publisher: Haunted Oak Publishing
Published: 2018-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Rachel looked homeward toward the southland. She could see only as far as the Jersey horizon beyond Staten Island. Above Staten Island lay Wall Street, then Chelsea, then Midtown. Above that, ending immediately below her, lay Central Park North—part of a park unchanged over the past two hundred years. She drew her woolen scarf more closely around her throat and head as snow flurries flew harder in the darkness just before dawn.

The city was beginning to awaken. It gave her pause, how little this part of the city had changed even in her lifetime, in the past four decades. Oh, of course the trivial changed. Restaurants came and went with the trends. Businesses opened and closed with the technology. But amid upheaval and violence, celebrations and laughter, terrorism and trading, New York City lay as indifferent to time as a Dickens truth, this place where the rich grew ever richer and the poor, ever poorer.

On the street below her, poor women on their way to the subway pushed their babies in strollers as they had a hundred years before—and a hundred years before that. Rich men hurried past on their way to earn yet another fortune.

Only four stories high, this building had once been divided into private apartments. When Emily and Tate bought it, they restored to it its previous understated beauty as a nineteenth-century mansion. Irritating Tate to no end, his manager had ignorantly sold something to a developer called airspace rights, assured that it wouldn’t impact their privacy. Developers had then built a cantilevered building beside him that, ten levels up, extended over their rooftop patio.

Rachel smiled at the memory of Tate’s response. He’d promptly fired his manager, bought out the developer and put the kibosh on the whole thing, leaving it a testament of folly to those who still saw human beings as commodities, even well into the twenty-first century.

She glanced up, seeing the colorful mural that Tate had commissioned to reassure his daughters of his constant care. Painted into the concrete overhang of the unfinished development, it was a 40-feet wide Tate at his most carefree, making a face at Cammie as she’d snapped the photo it had been painted from.

Now, each time his family looked up, they remembered the larger than life man who’d adored each one of them. Her heart ached at Emily’s loss. She couldn’t imagine; when she herself had traveled from 1746 to 2016, thinking Grey and Emily lost to her for all time, she had felt as if she’d fallen into a circle of hell. Emily, still a vibrant young woman, with a trio of daughters to raise—she couldn’t begin to imagine what she was going through.

And to contemplate what they were going to ask her to consider—something she herself wasn’t sure of—would perhaps be too much. Yet they had to ask.

She heard the click of a heel against the rooftop flagstone and turned. Her husband stood there, a lower corner of his charcoal grey coat folded back in the sudden, sharp breeze.

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