The Daughters by Joanna Philbin Page B

address,” he said.
    “Hi,” she said, trying to breathe as she stepped out into a marble-floored foyer. Todd’s new apartment looked like a castle.
     Large modern canvases hung on the walls, while a grand, marble staircase led to the second floor. A chandelier that looked
     like an explosion of crystal hung from a long skinny chain above their heads. And branching off from the foyer were at least
     five different rooms, all of which were dark and unoccupied. It was three times the size of Todd’s old place, but it also
     felt oddly empty, as if people hadn’t yet moved in.
    “This definitely isn’t your old apartment,” she said, craning her head to take it all in.
    “Yeah, it’s nice,” he said casually, looking around. Then his eyes returned to her. “You look nice, too,” he said.
    “Thanks.” Her stomach did a little flip and she prayed that she didn’t blush. “So, what can I do? I
am
here to help, right?”
    “Actually, let’s go upstairs.”
    “Upstairs?” she asked warily.
    “Yeah, I want to show you something.” He grinned the way he used to when he suggested anything that could have gotten them
     in trouble. “Come on. I think you’ll like it.” He bounded up the stairs in his bare feet. “I promise.”
    She followed him up the carpeted steps to the second floor and down a thickly carpeted hallway.
    “I feel like I’m at the Met,” she kidded, looking around. “Did your dad change jobs or something?”
    “No, the company’s just doing really well,” he said vaguely.
    At the top of another staircase he led her down a hallway and up to a closed door. “Okay, you ready?” he asked, almost giddy,
     as he slipped his feet into some flip-flops by the door. Whatever it was he had to show her had Todd really excited.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Well, close your eyes. And I mean,
really
close ’em.”
    She shut them. “Okay.”
    She felt his hand on her arm, and it sent a lightning flash of electricity all the way up to her shoulder. Then she heard
     the creak of a door opening. Gently he pulled her forward, just as she felt a breeze against her face.
    “Okay, open,” he said.
    She opened her eyes. She was standing in the most beautiful roof garden she had ever seen. Bushes of pale pink roses and milky-blue
     hydrangeas swayed in the breeze. Purple and white and red impatiens bobbed their heads in wooden barrels. Ivy crept up the
     walls of a small water tower, and magenta bougainvillea dripped down from a trellis. But even more beautiful was the view:
     Central Park stretched out in front of them like a soft emerald carpet, and above it, the setting sun carved a deep pink gash
     in the sky.
    “Oh my God,” she breathed. “This is amazing.”
    “Yeah,” Todd said, surveying the view. “That one’s your building, isn’t it?” He pointed to the other side of the park. “That
     one just to the left of us?” From here, the Central Park West skyline looked almost fake, like a painted backdrop of craggy,
     turreted prewar buildings crammed next to modern brick and glass condos.
    “Yep,” she said. “That’s it.”
    “Just like Daisy’s green light, huh?” he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder and grinning.
    Daisy’s green light, she thought. Gatsby had stared lovingly across the water to the green light on the dock of Daisy Buchanan’s
     house in East Egg. Was he saying what she thought he was?
Get a grip on yourself,
she thought.
    She turned around and saw a long table laid with drinks and snacks. “Hold on. I thought I was supposed to help you with that.”
    “You are helping me,” he said. He pointed to a comfy-looking pair of padded deck chairs. “You had to approve everything.”
    “Well, I approve,” she teased.
    “Good, then have a seat. I’ll get you something to drink.”
    She sank into the chair and leaned back so far that her gaze was at the hot pink sky. From below them on the street came the
     soothing white noise of traffic. Already, this