Manhattan in Miniature by Margaret Grace

Author:Margaret Grace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: New York City, Christmas, miniatures, crafts, craft store, cozy mystery, NYPD
ISBN: 971-1-56474-789-1
Publisher: Perseverance Press
Published: 2015-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I felt I could officially be called a commuter, making numerous trips to and from my home at the Lex and my temp job on the Upper West Side. Plus, I had a taxi accident under my belt, even though I had no battle wounds to show anyone. At nine in the morning, I was surprised to have Cody, not Duncan, open the cab door for me in front of Cynthia’s building.

“Double shift,” he explained. “Duncan’s not feeling well and, you know, you can never have enough money, right?” Spoken like a struggling student.

“What about your classes?” I asked. I remembered that Cody was an art student, but wasn’t clear on the particulars. Art history? Painting? Drawing? Ken, my architect husband, had taken a number of classes in art, but laughed at the idea that he was an artist.

“No problem. It’s mostly studio work at this point,” he said.

I swept my arm toward Fifth Avenue and the museum mile. “It must be exciting for an artist to live in the middle of all this.”

He frowned. “Yeah, or be a doorman in the middle of all this.”

Cody’s reaction stopped me. What was the protocol? To tell him he didn’t have to be a doorman all his life and risk insulting the profession as well as the absent Duncan? I went into teacher mode. “I’m sure you’re a hard worker, Cody, and will have whatever success you want.” Clearly I was out of practice on the advice and follow-your-dreams front.

Cody turned to assist other residents who were leaving the building at this time, and needing doors opened and taxis called. I was on my own to get to the lobby and call the elevator. Quite a hardship. I wondered how long it would take me to adjust to my regular life in Lincoln Point. I suspected that with all that had gone on this week, I’d be ready to open my own doors and carry my own packages. To prepare, I gave the button for the elevator a good, hard push and smiled with satisfaction when the doors opened.

* * *

Ashley Goodman and Candace Sellers, who’d arrived before me, had taken seats in Cynthia’s living room. She had arranged chairs around a low table, which held a coffee and tea service and a platter with the latest in pastry. “Cronuts,” I said, with a smile of approval for the flaky half croissant, half cream-filled donut.

“Yeah, old news now,” Candace said. “When they first came out, the bakery near my building sold so many they put a limit on how many each person could buy in the morning. Before nine, they’d only sell two to a person. Now you can buy a dozen or however many you want.”

I hadn’t realized that cronuts were already part of history. Lincoln Point’s Willie’s Bagel Shop had just recently added them to the “And More” section of their menu, after all the different flavors of bagels and cream cheese.

Cynthia disappeared with “You girls have a good talk.

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