Chapter Text
SUMMER
What's so great about New York?
Therese had been pondering it for a few weeks now. What was it about this place that made people consider it the centre of the universe? The greatest city in the world? Countless movies were made about it. Countless books were written about it. Frank Sinatra even sung about it.
Therese Belivet grew up in New York. Raised in the foster system across the poor neighbourhoods of The Bronx and Queens after being abandoned at birth by her Czech parents, she had a different view of New York than many other people. She was detached from the mythology of glitz and glamour that seemed to capture the imagination of the many that move to the city, in search of something better. She knew the truth. For Therese, New York wasn't about seeking her fortune. It was about surviving.
There was, of course, the art scene. That was a huge benefit of staying. But photography was a dream that was growing more distant every day, sinking into the background like an idea she once had in her past, not something she aspired to in the future. Therese knew if she was truly serious about becoming a professional photographer, she would have to start dedicating some serious time and effort. But how was she supposed to pursue her goals when she was working every hour God sent in her best friends' bar, just so she could make enough money to rent her dive of an apartment?
New York just didn't feel like it was for her anymore. She saw people getting priced out all the time, people like her. Those who had grown up in the poorer neighbourhoods of the city and watched helplessly as rising rent costs drove them out of the only place they had ever called home. The city was becoming a playground for the rich and famous, or the West Coast hippies who had moved here on their parents' trust funds. Meanwhile, Therese was living paycheck to paycheck and still spend most of her time worrying about money.
Therese had never really considered leaving New York until she broke up with Richard a couple of months before. He was a Manhattan guy, working in a bank thanks to his father's connections, with his sights set on Wall Street. Richard was the epitome of everything she hated about New York, and yet, he was sweet to her. He loved her, that much was clear. But there was always that unspoken condescending, because, as good as Therese could have been to him, she came from nothing. It was why she was so quiet around all his friends, so reluctant to go out with him to the expensive restaurants he loved so much. She was an imposter. It made her uncomfortable. And Richard never did anything to make her feel welcome.
Richard was the latest in a string of short and unsuccessful relationships. She never loved him enough to want to change when they were together, and, looking back on it, she was sure she was never in love with him at all. He wasn't meant for her. She had realised since that no man could be, because it only felt right with women. But she couldn't seem to find any of those either.
She looked back to the book in her lap with a light shake of her head, pulling back from that long tangent her thoughts seem to have drifted on. Reading in Central Park was the main thing that relaxed her on a late May afternoon. She would come here on sunnier days, with a good book and a reusable plastic cup of homemade iced coffee, and soak up the atmosphere for a while. She liked the background noise. Working in a bar had accustomed her to a life surrounded by the chatter of other people, something that was difficult to find in an apartment where she lived alone.
She read a couple more pages, willing herself to focus on the words in front of her, before she found herself distracted by her own peripheral vision.
There was a young girl sat on the other end of the bench, looking over at her, and to the book in her lap. The girl couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old, with dark blonde hair that fell just past her shoulders in loose waves. She wore a red and white striped t-shirt and navy jeans, with white converse sneakers on her small feet.
How long has she been sitting there? Therese thought. She'd so quietly sat down, Therese hadn't even noticed her.
She offered a small smile to the girl, who looked back at her with a quiet mixture of curiosity and reluctance. She didn't say anything.
Therese turned back to her book, but she found herself looking upwards, to the open green spaces around them, the winding path and the people who followed it. Where are this girl's parents? Everyone in the vicinity was way too young to have an eight year old kid. Maybe she's with a sitter? But no one seemed to be looking for her either. No frantic parents, heads turning this way and that, calling her name. So no one has lost her.
She turned back to the girl. She looked from the book, to Therese, and back again, shifting uncomfortably when she realised that Therese was watching her.
'You like books, huh?' Therese asked her gently, smiling at her again.
The girl's eyes flickered up to meet hers, then, unsure, to her lips, noticing her smile. She nodded then.
'What's the book?' she asked timidly.
Therese closed the book and held it up to show her, running her fingers across the embellished golden swirls that danced across the cover.
'It's called Rebecca', Therese replied. 'It was written a really long time ago. I guess you don't know it?'
The girl shook her head.
'What do you like to read?' Therese asked her, hoping to keep her talking. If there was any way of finding out this girl's situation, she would have to win her trust first. She should know. She'd been here before.
The girl started to open up, slowly but surely. Therese could see it in her body language, the way her posture had loosed, her face had softened.
'I like old books too', she said. 'I read The Secret Garden last month'.
'You did? I've read that too, I love it'.
'It was quite hard for me', she confessed. 'My mom helped me with it'.
Aha. Here was the cue Therese had hoped for.
'Where is your mom, kid?' she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral, so it didn't sound like a problem. If she drew too much attention to this question, acted like it was a big deal, it would scare her off.
The girl's face became hard again, reluctant. She was protecting herself, Therese could see it. It reminded her of her younger self.
'She's around', the girl responded vaguely, looking away.
'Here at the park?' Therese pressed, but gently.
The girl sighed.
'Are you lost?' Therese asked her finally.
The girl folded her arms sulkily, like she'd received a lecture from an angry parent.
'I ran away', she mumbled.
Therese leaned back against the hard wood of the bench.
'You know, I ran away when I was your age', she confessed.
The girl looked back at her then, eyes widening. 'You did?'
Therese nodded. 'That's how I knew you'd done the same. I've been you before' .
'What happened?' the girl asked.
'I was unhappy at home. I did it more than once, actually. But I always ended up getting lost, and then I got scared. A kind stranger would help me get home. So, now, I have to help you, like they helped me'.
'But I'm not supposed to talk to strangers', the girl protested.
'True', Therese agreed. 'But if we introduce ourselves, then we won't be strangers anymore, right?'
'And I'm definitely not supposed to give my name to strangers'.
'True, again, but I think you're out of options here, kid'. Therese extended her hand to the girl. 'My name is Therese. What's your name?'
The girl looked at her, then to her outstretched hand, then back again. After a moment, she reached out her own small hand.
'It's Rindy', she said, shaking Therese's hand.
'There. Now, will you tell me what's going on?'
Rindy sighed. 'My mom and dad were arguing. Again. I was so sick of it. So I ran away. But now I'm here, and I don't know how to go back'.
'So you are lost', Therese confirmed.
Rindy nodded, still with that same sulkiness, the same reluctance to admit that she needed help. Therese recognised it. A great rebellion gone wrong. She felt bad for her, but perhaps she would have been more sympathetic had she been a few years younger. She knew more now. She knew that you always had to go back. She did, and now Rindy did too.
'How about I call your mom?' Therese suggested.
'I don't know her number. But I know the name of the hotel'.
'Oh, so you don't live in New York?'
'I do sometimes'.
Therese frowned. 'What do you mean?'
'We move around a lot', Rindy answered quietly, like she was unhappy about it.
Therese smiled sympathetically. 'I get that. I used to move around a lot too'.
'Is your mom an actress too?' Rindy asked hopefully, before widening her eyes again, this time clapping a hand over her mouth.
Therese raised an eyebrow. 'What?'
'I shouldn't have said that', she said, panicked.
'It's okay, I won't tell anyone', Therese shrugged, trying to make light of her apparently big revelation. There was definitely something strange about this girl. 'Now, enough with that. What's the name of the hotel?'
'The Plaza', Rindy responded simply.
Therese blinked. 'The Plaza? Wow'. She took out her phone from her jeans pocket, and typed the name of the luxurious hotel into google. 'Okay, well I can just call the front desk and ask to speak to your mom. What's her name?'
Rindy shook her head. 'I can't tell you that. It's the number one rule'.
Therese rolled her eyes. Definitely something going on. 'You're very mysterious, you know that?'
Rindy shrugged, a smirk on her face that was somewhere between apologetic and smug, satisfied at having not revealed too much.
'Okay, well how is this supposed to work then?' Therese asked.
'My mom uses a codename when she stays at hotels', Rindy explained. 'That's the way you can talk to her'.
That was the final puzzle piece Therese needed to complete the unique picture of this little girl's life. An actress, using a codename to hide her identity at New York's most expensive hotel.
'Your mom's famous, isn't she?'
Rindy nodded awkwardly. 'That's why I can't tell you her name. People try to go to see her when they know where she is'.
Lucky she ran into me then, Therese thought. She'd never been one to care about celebrity. Thousands of people in the city were famous, or trying to be, as much as they denied it. Therese found it all very disingenuous.
'Well, do you know the codename?' Therese asked, trying to change the subject.
'Sure. My mom lets me choose them. I've been giving her the names of Marvel characters'.
'What is it then?'
'It's Mrs Thor'.
Therese raised an eyebrow. 'Mrs Thor?'
Rindy smiled, on the verge of a laugh, at her own handiwork.
'Okay, then, I'm gonna call Mrs Thor now', Therese said, shaking her head in disbelief.
'Therese, wait', Rindy stopped her. 'Can you take me back?'
Therese blinked. 'You want me to take you back to The Plaza?'
'They'll send someone from the hotel, or my Aunt Abby, and they'll be really mad. Can't you walk with me?'
'Well, sure, I can take you, it's only down the street'. She sighed. 'Are you sure you won't just let me call the front desk?'
Rindy shook her head, a hopeful questioning on her face.
Therese threw her hands up. 'What the hell, let's do it'.
The little girl smiled gratefully.
The change in atmosphere as they passed through the grand entrance of The Plaza and into the lobby, with all its intricate, extravagant décor and the enormous crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling like a fallen star, was palpable, perhaps shown best in the way in which Rindy was the one who became Therese's guide. Out in the street, through the park and crossing over the road to that iconic place that loomed high above the trees, Therese walked beside Rindy, talking to her about anything and everything, while Rindy followed her every move. Now, the runaway daughter herself emerged from Therese's shadow, confidence growing, as the grand hotel received her once again. This was her environment. Therese wondered what it must be like for Rindy, to be accustomed to such grandeur before she'd reached her first decade of life.
'It's this way', Rindy said confidently, pointing towards a set of elevators past the main lobby. She started for the elevators, but Therese took her gently by the shoulders and reeled her back in.
'Woah, hold on a minute. We can't just go up to the room. We don't have a key'.
Rindy frowned. 'Oh'.
'We're gonna have to go use that codename. Come on'.
Therese steered her towards the front desk, heading for an older man with silvering hair, unoccupied at his computer. The two of them approached him, but he didn't look right away. The desk was so tall that Rindy could barely see over the top.
'Excuse me', Therese announced their presence awkwardly, unsure of what her next move would be. Should she just drop the codename? Should she explain the situation and let them take care of it?
The receptionist cast his steely blue eyes over the desk, regarding Therese with a disdainful glance up and down her person, taking in her clothes, over-sized grey t-shirt tucked into ripped baggy jeans, her hair, just brushed, falling to her chest in messy, natural waves. Maybe it was just her imagination, but nevertheless, she felt shrunken. I don't belong here, she thought, something that had already crossed her mind multiple times since she entered the hotel and saw the other kinds of women who dwelled here, with designer shoes and perfectly manicured nails.
'Yes, how can I help?' he asked.
Therese mustered up all the confidence she could. 'I'm looking for Mrs Thor, is she here?'
The man raised an eyebrow. 'What do you want with Mrs Thor?'
'Well...' Therese looked down at Rindy. The receptionist followed her eyeline, only now noticing the girl at her side. He leaned over the desk a little.
'You're Rindy, aren't you?' he recognised, relieved. 'She called the desk before and said you'd gone missing! Let me call her to come down and get you-'
'It's okay, just let Therese take me upstairs', Rindy requested.
He sighed. 'If that's what you wish. I'll call your mom and tell her you're on your way'.
With that, he picked up the phone with one hand, and snapped his fingers at a bellboy waiting by the wall. The bellboy approached, the receptionist murmured something in his ear, and he turned to Therese and Rindy and smiled.
'I'll take you up', he told them, and began to lead the two of them towards the elevators.
Rindy followed, and Therese shuffled behind them awkwardly.
'Why are you making me go upstairs with you?' Therese hissed to Rindy, out of earshot of the oblivious bellboy.
'Well, my mom will be less angry if you're there', the little girl explained. 'She won't yell at me in front of a guest'.
'So you're using me?'
Rindy just smiled apologetically.
How did this happen? Therese thought as they piled into the elevator in silence. A day that had started out like any other, and then suddenly she was in The Plaza with some random kid, on her way to meet a celebrity? Things like this never happened, at least to her.
After what felt like a lifetime, with Rindy remaining quiet beside her, no doubt feeling the fear of an impending outburst by her mother, they exited the elevator into a long corridor with seemingly few doors.
'I can leave you here, if you want', the bellboy suggested.
'Yeah, sure, thanks', Therese replied, waving him off. He stepped back into the elevator.
'It's that door on the right', Rindy said. She led the way, and Therese followed nervously, still unsure of what she was actually doing, and whether she should just leave Rindy. But it was clear that, for some reason, this little girl was relying on her, trusting in her. And so she stayed. She stood behind her, like a guardian angel.
Therese almost held her breath as Rindy knocked on the door, still unsure of who waited on the other side. But it was only a moment until the door swung open, panicked, and, for a moment, blue-grey eyes, the colour of the sky at dusk, met Therese's, before they flickered down to the little girl in front of her.
'Rindy!' the woman cried.
Rindy's mother was Carol Aird.