Walking back through a living room that felt large enough to host an NFL football game within its confines, Hannah still couldn’t help but wonder if she was in a dream. Though after the scenario she’d just left,anythingwould seem like a dream.
Before she could go any further down that disaster-strewn path, and determined to keep her spirits up, she continued her tour of the space, moving through to the small kitchen and marvelling at the state-of-the-art chef’s kitchen, dazzling aluminium pots and pans hanging over the prep area island currently awaiting its aforementioned Calacatta marble countertop finish.
It was every chef’s idea of heaven. But Hannah was a little uncertain about whether or not she was allowed to use it and made a mental note to go back over the house rules Courtney’s assistant Sara had mailed across when making initial arrangements.
Not that it mattered. She was a tragically terrible cook and there was no shortage of great places to eat in this town. Which would also encourage her to get out there and help meet new people – asit was, she knew she’d spent far too long licking her wounds and eating her feelings in the form of Ghirardelli’s hot fudge sundaes. It was time to start living life again.
She smiled dolefully. Still … baby steps. Passing by a mammoth Sub-Zero stainless steel refrigerator, Hannah caught sight of herself in the reflective surface and regarded what she saw with a more critical eye. While she would never in a million years be considered influencer material like Courtney, she knew she looked decent enough not to send kids (or New Yorkers) running away in terror when they saw her.
Petite in stature, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and wide blue eyes, it was all too easy to underestimate her, and very many people did. Hannah smiled. She liked that, the way appearances could be deceptive; and it was something she utilised every day in her PR manager role.
She left the kitchen and ambled back into the living room. The main living space was also brought into the modern era with a few carefully selected pieces of furniture. Sleek, low-profile sofas in shades of grey and blue provided ample cosy seating, with a round ottoman and a couple of mid-century modern pieces for enjoying those incredible Central Park views, and the Dakota building directly across.
The yet-to-be-delivered Eames lounger Courtney had mentioned in her welcome note would surely be the piece-de-resistance in here. To finish off the space, an elaborate art-deco chandelier was installed in the centre, adding a bit of twenties sparkle and glamour.
Belying that era was a beyond-state-of-the-art media system capable of replicating an IMAX experience that even put some LA movie mogul pads to shame. Along with smart lighting and climatecontrol systems, with programmable thermostats and automated shades. Hannah had no idea how much the media installation alone would cost, but suspected it must surely be a few years of her salary, plus maybe tossing in selling an organ or two on the black market. Let alone the price of the apartment itself.
What must it be like to be one of the richest social media stars of your generation? That was something Hannah would never know – and that was fine with her really. In her line of work, she routinely dealt with the top of the elite mountain – the one per cent’s one per cent.
While many of the younger so-called tastemakers she’d worked with back on the West Coast – mostly bored rich kids – were narcissistic, demanding and completely out of touch with the rest of the world (‘away with the fairies’, as the Irish expression went), Courtney Wilde was a surprising exception to the rule.
The twenty-three-year-old millionaire had become a voice and role model for millions of young women around the world, with a successful online platform that combined her passions for fashion and finance. While the majority of retail and lifestyle influencers typically sought out IV lines direct to followers’ pockets to enrich themselves, Courtney Wilde conversely used hers to empower her audience with knowledge and wisdom about money and financial independence. Her mission to help younger women become financially literate and learn how to pay for their purchases through careful savings and clever investments instead of becoming slaves to credit was a powerful one that was both fashion-forward and financial-savvy.
Dior or Front Door?(blow money on designer stuff or use it to buy your own home) was the catchphrase that had captured the imagination and gone viral, thrusting Courtney’s atypicalfusion of fashion and finance into the spotlight. And one which the young lady had utilised herself, with spectacular results, since this gorgeous penthouse was merely one element of a significant property portfolio.
Hannah wished someone like Courtney had been around when she was that age, particularly in her younger years growing up as a bookish, painfully-shy teenager in the rural Limerick village from which she hailed. A small farming community that offered few opportunities for glamour or social variety, about the only adolescent role models she had back then were gleaned from books and TV, and much of her life advice via Jean Luc Picard inStar Trek TNG.
Make it so...
She chuckled. Truly a galaxy apart from the largely confident go-getting youth of today.
Even possessing a smidgen of that kind of moxie could’ve meant that Hannah might also have been much better placed to take control of her situation after everything imploded in LA. Her ex, Rob, remained in the Brentwood walk-up he owned, rendering her homeless practically overnight.
So she was doubly grateful for the opportunity to get a true taste of the good life, temporarily at least. There was only one minor wrinkle in the entire situation – the neighbours’ issue mentioned in the welcome note.
Hannah learned from Courtney’s assistant Sara that a group of residents in the building had lodged a lawsuit against the co-op board for allowing the influencer to buy into it.
When word initially got out that she had made an application, apparently the cantankerous old guy living in the adjoining penthouse had insisted that they couldn’t allow some ‘attention-seeking airhead’ to upset the social dynamics in the building. Butevidently the group’s wish to have Courtney’s bid denied was refused. As were their subsequent submissions about construction noise, odours from the fresh paint or insistence that the planned renovations would not only go against the architectural integrity of the landmark building but structural too, and they were all going to die when it caved in around them.
Hannah knew that such co-op disputes could be the stuff of legend in NYC, with residents routinely fighting board members and each other for myriad reasons (ironically the very opposite of co-operative), and she could well imagine why the arrival of a millionairess bright young thing into the prestigious building might put much older and well-heeled noses out of joint.
Sara had quickly brushed away Hannah’s initial concerns by assuring her that the matter was now in the hands of the legal eagles, and there was nothing to fear from any personal encounters. But maybe once the neighbours met Courtney in person, she’d disarm and charm them too? Well, they certainly had nothing to fear from introverted Hannah anyway. No wild parties or noise of any kind – she wasn’t even the singing-in-the-shower type.
Nope, while she was here, she just planned to lay low, pick up the pieces of her life, and most importantly, she mused, gazing out at that picture-perfect Central Park view, make the most of the incredible gift she’d been given in one of the greatest cities on earth.
As she stood by the window, watching the light slowly fade over the park and cityscape beyond, Hannah felt optimistic for the first time in months.
She’d been in Los Angeles for so long that she’d almost forgotten the exhilaration Manhattan could evoke, and was appreciative of the opportunity to experience it anew from such an incredible vantage point. Opening the sash window a little, even fifteen floorsup the air was suddenly filled with familiar sounds of the city – honking horns, laughter against the murmur of traffic and a million conversations – and, at that moment, Hannah felt a profound reconnection with the place she’d once called home. This very same vibrant energy had once helped her shake off those youthful small-town inhibitions and encouraged her out of her shell to become the mature, self-assured person she was now. She felt a lump in her throat. Or used to be.
With luck, New York would work that same magic for her again.
She had been away from the city for so long and yet it still felt like no time had passed. Her instincts were correct to leave LA. She had come to the right place to lick her wounds, heal her heart, and she was more than ready to start a new life in the city that never sleeps.
Heading back out to the foyer to collect her bags from where she’d dropped them in awe on arrival, Hannah noticed that something had since been slipped under the door. A piece of paper and a handwritten note:
P-2,
I’m still getting your stupid ‘fan mail’ shoved in my box downstairs. I know this might come as a surprise to someone who lives in their own perfect Barbie bubble, but there are two penthouses up here. I’ve been marking it as Return to Sender, but soon I’m just gonna start shredding. So tell your herd of bazillion idiot sheep to stop sneaking their crap into the lobby. Or even better, tell ’em to go to hell.
