You Were Meant For Me by Yona Zeldis McDonough

Author:Yona Zeldis McDonough
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

Evan spent the night with Miranda snuggled peaceably by his side. He didn’t initiate sex; he sensed she was too preoccupied. But early the next morning—it was Saturday, and neither of them had to be at work—she surprised him by coming into the bedroom fresh from the shower and dropping her towel when she stood in front of him. “Are you in a hurry to leave?” she asked.

“No.” He reached for her; beads of water still dotted her collarbone and throat. “No hurry at all.”

Back in his own place, he sat down at his laptop and began Googling Jared Masters. He wanted to see what he could find out about the guy. Good education—private school in New England, followed by four years at Haverford and an MA in urban planning from Columbia. He now worked for a boutique real-estate company in Harlem and seemed to be on the rise professionally. He’d also been a soccer coach for some uptown youth league, and more recently, he had started some kind of internship program for high school students at the real-estate firm. Evan read about his many accolades and the citation from the principal, and there were several pictures of him with the students, one of whom was now at Princeton.

Masters was also a very social guy; Evan found plenty of pictures of him at various clubs and restaurants in the city as well as out in the Hamptons. He was inevitably with a woman—always white—of a kind that Evan did not consider especially attractive but that he knew other people did: blond, skinny, done to the nines.

After a while he switched to searching for Geneva Bales. He couldn’t help suspecting she and Jared Masters had some kind of connection, that it wasn’t journalistic objectivity that had made her take his side the way she had.

The first things that came up were, predictably, the pieces she’d written for Metro; the magazine archived them, and had he wanted, he could have gone back over the seven years’ worth of columns that were available online. There were references to other pieces as well—a bunch from the New York Times, a couple from the London Observer, one from Vogue, and another from Vanity Fair. He found photos too, pictures taken at various New York social events: galas for the New York City Ballet and the New York Public Library, a garden party held by the Central Park Conservancy.

But none of this was illuminating or even very interesting. Geneva wrote well and often. Along with her column, she plied her trade at various high-profile publications, and she had a modest presence on the New York social scene. Evan wanted more. Who was she? Where had she come from? There was no mention of a personal life—no lover or spouse, no parents or children. Surely that information had to exist somewhere; he just had to persist and he would find it.

Around one o’clock, he got up and went into the kitchen for lunch. The refrigerator yielded a

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