“Well, thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem, Miss Vincent. Welcome to New York.”
Welcome indeed. As soon as the car door opened, Hanna’s ears were assaulted
with the noise of the streets. Humming engines punctuated the air along with the staccato pumping of horns. The drumming of a road compactor a couple of blocks down accompanied the constant drone of voices as she was suddenly surrounded by people milling about the sidewalk. The sights and sounds of London seemed like mere whispers compared to this. The height of the buildings, and the closed-in feeling that they gave her as she walked along, took her breath away.
To her left, the twin towers of the World Trade Center loomed over the financial district, like two sentinels standing guard over New York Harbor. Hanna couldn’t help but be impressed by their stature. She decided then and there that she’d definitely make a trip up to see the observation deck at some point during her visit. The view over the Atlantic Ocean on one side and Manhattan on the other had to be impressive from there.
Tearing her eyes away, she walked the five yards to the office building, which housed the company her father co-owned. When she got to the security desk, she gave the guard her name and waited for somebody to come and collect her. The foyer reeked of money; the marble floor was pristine, as if it was being constantly buffed by an invisible army, and all of the furniture was high end.
“Hanna?” She was shocked to see her father was the one who had come to meet her. She was so sure it was going to be one of his minions, maybe an intern or something.
“Hi Dad.” She allowed herself to be hugged by him. His dark grey hair was perfectly arranged as usual, his suit well cut and fitted.
“How was your flight? Did you get here all right?” They walked through the security turnstile and over to the elevator bank. When the elevator arrived, Philip pushed the button to take them to the fourth floor. Vincent-Jones took up the entire floor, with the best offices reserved for her father and his partner.
“The flight was fine. It was nice to travel in first class. Thank you for paying.”
“You’re welcome. I just need to make a couple of phone calls, and then we can go and get something to eat.” They’d reached his secretary’s desk. The blonde sat there looked up at Hanna with interest.
Hanna assumed she was probably trying to work out how this disheveled eighteen-year-old, wearing ripped jeans, a band tee, and a wrinkled black jacket, could possibly be related to Philip Vincent.
It was something Hanna often wondered herself.
“Can I get you anything, Miss Vincent? A coffee, something to eat perhaps?”
“I’m fine. I’ll just sit here and wait.”
Ten minutes later, her father walked out of his office, pulling a smart, black, woolen coat around his shoulders.
“I won’t be coming back today, Grace,” he said to his blonde secretary as he passed by her desk. “If anything urgent comes up, call me on the cell phone. Otherwise I’ll check my emails tonight.”
“Of course, Mr. Vincent, have a good evening. Good night, Miss Vincent.” Grace gave her a small nod as Hanna stood to join her father.
This was all getting a bit surreal. First of all, he had invited her over to his home in New York, something he hadn’t done for a number of years. Then he had taken off early from work, just to spend some time with her. She could guarantee this was something he had never done before.
Anyone would have thought he was feeling guilty.
“I thought we could get an early dinner, then I’ll take you home and you can catch up with Olivia and your sisters.”
Oh Joy.
“Sounds good.” Hanna smiled at her father for the first time in two years. “But I’m not really dressed for dinner.”
“We’ll hit a diner.”
“In that case, you’re not really dressed for dinner.” Perhaps this entente cordiale could last for longer than five minutes. Hanna was still skeptical.
“Don’t sweat it. Half of Wall Street will be eating there.”
“Okay.” She bit back her original retort, where she had been about to ask him who he was and what he had done with her father. She didn’t want to do anything to spoil the moment.
When they were seated, Philip ordered a Reuben and Hanna opted for a burger. As they sipped at their drinks, she searched vainly around in her brain to find something neutral to talk about. Luckily her father got there first.
“This place is my guilty secret. Olivia would kill me if she could see me now. She thinks ‘diner’ is short for ‘cholesterol dining.’” Philip swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, picking up his glass of root beer to chase it down.
“I guess you’ll have to bribe me for my silence, then.” She still felt weird, sitting with her father, having a grown up conversation. Her mouth was almost aching with the need to ask him why he was doing this.