He gathered her in. “I’m going to be making a lot of trips to New York. You’ll have to tolerate that. You already know your grandfather will—and doubly now, as it’s not just Lily but both of his best girls on the other coast.”
“My best guys.”
“I need a text from you every day, and a phone call every week. The texts for the first month. The call for the rest of your life.”
“I can agree to that.”
He rested his chin on top of her head, and started missing her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
New York City
For the first few weeks in New York, Cate stuck to the Upper West Side, where Lily had her condo. When she ventured farther, she was with Lily or aunts or cousins.
Since the weather in late winter in New York came as a shock to her system, she didn’t find sticking close much of a hardship.
After all, she did get out—and was so bundled up when she took a walk the possibility of being recognized hit zero. And she enjoyed walking in a city made for it. While a far cry from the paths and quiet roads of Mayo, the long avenues, the jammed cross streets, the myriad of shops, cafés, restaurants all invited exploration.
By the time the air hinted—pretty vaguely—of spring, she’d gained considerable confidence and learned to love the taste of freedom.
Through her cousins, she met people her own age. Most were far too jaded to be impressed by her lineage. And actors of her father’s and grandfather’s generation were as ancient to them as Moses.
She liked it.
She learned to walk fast, like a native, and after some missteps learned how to navigate the subway system. She preferred long walks or subway rides to cabs, found both full of fascination.
So many voices, accents, languages. So many styles and looks. Best of all, nobody paid any particular attention to her.
Since she’d put herself, once again, into Gino’s hands before leaving L.A., she sported a sharp, swingy do with side-swept bangs.
At times, she barely recognized herself.
As Lily moved into rehearsals, Cate liked to drop into the theater once or twice a week, just hunker back in the house and watch the evolution. Voices again, big, banging Broadway voices, lifting up, lifting out, lifting back.
Lily’s laugh, she thought, watching the stage, or Mame’s laugh now, just rolling. Some actors were born to play certain roles. In Cate’s opinion, Mame was Lily’s.
She took out her phone—always muted in rehearsal—and sent a text to her father.
Today’s news from NY. I’m watching the director and the cast adjust some of the blocking in Scene Five of the first act. Right now it’s just Mame and Vera. Lily’s wearing leggings, Marian Keene is wearing jeans, but I swear you can almost see them in costume. FYI, Mimi, Lily’s PA, had to fly back to LA to help her mom. Mom broke her ankle. So for now, I’m filling in. Tell Grandpa Lily’s excited he’s coming out next week. She misses him, and me, too. And you. Btw, I’m getting tattoo sleeves and my tongue pierced. J/k. Or am I?
Grinning at herself, she sent the text. Then folding her arms on the seat in front of her, she propped her chin on them and watched the magic happen.
When they took five, and the director huddled with the choreographer and stage manager, Lily called out.
“Are you still with us, Cate?”
“Right here.” Hauling up her massive tote bag, Cate got up, moved forward and into view.
“Come on up.”
Cate headed to the doors, house left, went through, went up to where chorus members warmed up for the next number, stretching limbs, doing vocals. Already reaching in the bag, she walked on, stage right.
“Protein bar, room-temp flat water.”
Lily took both. “Mimi’s going to fear losing her job.”
“Just taking care of my G-Lil until she’s back.”
“I can use it.” Lily dropped down into a folding chair, stretched out her legs, rotated her ankles. “You can forget how physical live theater is—double it with musical theater.”
“How about I book you a massage later? I can have Bill there at six—I already checked—and have some of the penne you like, a nice salad, delivered from Luigi’s at seven-thirty. Carbs are energy’s friend.”
“My God, girl, you’re a wonder.”
“Mimi and her detailed list, her spreadsheet and endless contact information’s the wonder.”
“How did I end up with a masseur named Bill? He should be Esteban or Sven.”
Cate wiggled her fingers. “Magic hands, if I remember right.”
“He does have those. Book ’em, Danno. Now tell me