“Let’s circle back on that one. How do you feel about crystals and stones?”
“They have great energy,” I tell her.
She smirks and checks her phone. “Come on. It’s time for lunch. Keep your eyes peeled for wishing wells.”
We make our way out of the park and cross over a couple of avenues to the nearest grocery store, where Hazel makes a beeline for the precooked food.
“Hope you’re hungry,” she says, lifting a steaming container of rotisserie chicken.
“I’ll grab forks.” I also snag a few napkins and a couple of sparkling waters.
We cross back to the park to eat, but because it’s a beautiful fall day, it’s packed, and all the benches are taken.
“We could do that,” I say, pointing with my shoulder toward Central Park Lake.
“If there aren’t benches, there won’t be boats. It’s first come, first serve,” Hazel says. “And we have a lot left to do today.”
“Let’s just see,” I say. “But you should probably be the one to ask, given… you know.”
Hazel reluctantly agrees, going down to the dock to talk to the attendant. She waves me over.
“Those two are done,” she says about a couple stepping out of one of the boats. “Good timing.”
“I’d say. Have you ever been out on one of these before?” I ask.
“At thirty dollars an hour? Absolutely not. You can see all that”—she waves her hands toward the skyline—“from there.” She points to land.
“It’s a nicer view on the water,” I say. “And I guess now we can take our time out here, huh?”
I row us out to the center of the lake, where a dozen other people are floating in their boats. The blue backdrop of sky illuminates the shimmering skyrises sprouting up from a quilt of orange-, yellow-,and red-leafed trees. All the colors swirl together in the reflection of the surface of the algae-green lake.
Hazel turns her body to look behind her. “Wow.”
“You should see it from this angle.” I grab the left oar to spin the boat around so that she has the better view. As I do, my phone buzzes three times in a row with yet another spam call, probably someone requesting donations or pretending to be tech support. With my other hand, I scroll through the voicemail transcript.
“Hey! Logan!” Hazel’s voice breaks through my distraction. I only realize I’ve been spinning us in circles when I notice her clinging to the sides of the boat. “Everything okay?”
I hold the oar firmly against the water, straightening us out. “Oh, everything’s great.” I set my phone down. “You wanna hear about an amazing investment opportunity? I’ve got three for you to pick from.”
Hazel glances at my phone. “Apparently, I have five sets of grandparents in trouble who need my social security number.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve always gotten spam calls but never this much. It’s been two days. How did these people even get our numbers?”
“With our names out there, I’m sure a simple Google search did it.”
“I do think the disguises worked,” she says. “I haven’t heard from anyone that I know. I guess I don’t mind the texts and calls as long as they’re from strangers. Makes me feel like I’ve got a robust network of friends.”
I nod in response. “Did you get a chance to enjoy the view, or was it all a blur?”
“I’m only a little seasick,” she jokes, refocusing on the skyline. “Being so far downtown, I always forget there’s a literal lake in the middle of the city. I’ve forgotten how much I love Central Park.”
“If it weren’t for all those skyscrapers, I might even forget I was in the city.”
“And those hot dog carts.”
“That, too.”
“Summer’s my favorite time of year,” Hazel says. “This, though. This is giving it a run for its money.” She looks content. “Fall feels like being covered with a heated blanket on a cold morning.”
I grin at that image, especially because I know that she runs cold. When she turns her face into the sun to catch some of its warming rays, I feel a different kind of warmth as I watch her eyes flutter closed, her thick lashes curled against her smiling cheeks.
