The New York Project

1. New beginnings

The black car was driving along the busy streets and towards the beginning of her new life.

After one last turn, the bridge finally appeared, and with it the river and the skyscrapers on the other side.

On this warm afternoon of early July, the sun was high in the sky and its light glinted diamonds on the deep, flat water of the harbour.

The young woman unconsciously held her breath, clasped the handle of the car door and came very close to the window, her nose almost touching the grey glass.

"I'm sorry, Miss Victoria, the traffic is nothing but a nightmare this time of day. You must be exhausted by your flight."

The chauffeur's hoarse voice drew her from her contemplation.

"That's all right, Frank, I'm grateful, really, I get to discover the city slowly again. And it was fun to see how much the neighbourhood we just drove through has changed."

He agreed loudly and quite rudely before beginning a diatribe about how the hipsters have modified the whole area and how everything has become so expensive. Victoria smiled and stopped listening to him about halfway.

Of course she was tired after the long flight from Heathrow, and she should have been mad at her father for sending his chauffeur instead of himself to pick her up at the airport. She should also have been mad at him for making her come to his office in the southern business area rather than going directly to his house, seven miles up – probably in a forlorn attempt to prove his eagerness to see her.

Yet she didn't mind.

She welcomed this supplemental time, this respite. She was glad not to have to rush into this family reunion, which promised to be awkward, at best.

While crossing the bridge, full of yellow taxicabs and unnoticeable cars, she tried to spot as many details as she could about the island, about the dark blue river and the ferry boats leisurely cruising it.

A feeling of excitement eventually came to her: this was it; a new life was waiting for her at the other end of that bridge.

A new life, hers for the taking.

***

She didn't take her eyes off the crowded streets once on the island. She tried to see everything, every food cart, every bakery, every busy businessman or businesswoman hurrying up along the pavement.

Frank finally pulled over in front of the fifteen-stories building harbouring her father's hedge fund. She walked towards the front desk, the sound of her heels echoing through the large lobby, and was about to introduce herself when the receptionist greeted her respectfully by using her name and directly gave her a guest pass to access the offices.

It appeared on her way up that everyone here was waiting for Miss Victoria, the boss' daughter. She smiled inwardly at the thought of her father wanting to show off his Londonian eldest child in the office. A good thing she had checked her make-up and red brown hair in the airport restrooms and switched her sneakers for leather open toes to go with her long floral dress.

She walked out of the elevator, and here he was.

Henry Lewis, her estranged father: a still athletic figure of middle height in a very fancy suit, with sharp brown eyes surrounded by charming wrinkles and perfectly grey hair.

He hugged her heartily and something tightened in her chest.

"Victoria, sweetie, how are you? We're so glad you're back. And for good."