Shadows of New York Read Free

meatballs,” she said with a resigned sigh. Jackson plunged both hands into the orange goo.
    “Finally, grilled vegetable and hummus.” Someone, probably the super-efficient Jennifer, must have relayed Aiden’s vegetarianism. Mrs. F-G took this plate to the kitchen table, rather than placing it at the island with the kids.
    The older kids watched with puzzled looks as Aiden went to the table.
    “Why—” began Rosemary.
    “—is Aiden sitting over there?” finished Mrs. F-G.
    “Yeah, because—”
    “—the nannies usually sit with you at the island?”
    “Right.”
    “Because Aiden doesn’t eat…” began Mrs. F-G, slowing to a stop.
    “Meat,” said Rosemary, staring at the ceiling as she thought. “And we’re eating meat, and maybe it might bother him, so you didn’t put him right next to us.” She finished with a questioning smile.
    Nodding, Mrs. F-G said, “Very good.” She added a few more pretzels to Rosemary’s plate.
    Aiden found all faces (except for Jackson’s, which was covered in tomato sauce) turned toward him. He gave a shrug. “Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “Why don’t you eat meat?” asked Rosemary.
    Mrs. F-G gave a little tut and said, “Rosemary, don’t pry. He just got here.”
    “Thanks,” said Aiden again.
    “Don’t thank me yet. I just bought you some time, that’s all.” She sat at the table with Aiden, bringing with her a mug and a strong scent of tea. She watched the kids until they were all focused on their meals, and then said quietly, “The children will have to know sooner or later. All of it.”
    Aiden stopped mid-chew. After a quick swallow, he said, “I don’t follow.”
    She patted his hand and said, “Sure you do. They deserve to know. But I’d wait until they get to know you better. People tend to over-react, I imagine.”
    Aiden’s insides went cold. He had been told that he would blend in perfectly, that no one in the house would suspect, that he’d have plenty of time to integrate into the family before he needed to explain. Now here he was on his very first day, confronted about that fact that he was—
    “Don’t worry,” Mrs. F-G said, interrupting his thoughts. “I won’t say anything.”
    * * * *
    Mr. and Mrs. Cooper returned home just before midnight. The sound of their hushed voices filtered through the apartment to Aiden, who sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a book. “Seriously,” said Mr. Cooper, trying to be quiet, “if Carlie Diane makes us come up with one more Donnie Cavanaugh skit, I think I’m going to go crazy.”
    Jennifer found Aiden first. She gave him a quizzical look and said, “Coffee at this time of night? You’ll never get to sleep.”
    Aiden lifted the mug and said, “Decaf. Couldn’t sleep as it was.”
    Mr. Cooper appeared behind his wife. His face was handsome, but lined and tired-looking. His dark blond hair, gray at the temples, was receding. Looking wistful, he said, “Gosh, I remember decaf. Haven’t had any since before we had kids. I didn’t think Ann kept decaf around.”
    Aiden shrugged. “There was a new can of it in the cupboard.”
    “Huh. She must have picked some up.” Mr. Cooper went to the coffeemaker and poured himself a steaming cup and then sat across from Aiden. “So you’re all settled in now, I take it?”
    “Yup.” Thinking this answer too brief, he added, “Nice place. Great kids, Mr. Cooper.”
    “Robert,” he corrected in a friendly way. Robert threw a glance over his shoulder and, seeing that his wife was no longer hovering in the kitchen doorway, added, “Bob, actually.”
    “Robert, actually,” came Jennifer’s voice from the hallway. She was still hovering, just out of sight.
    Robert dropped his voice to just above a whisper and said, “She’s got this thing about names as a person’s core identity, or some kind of new age mumbo jumbo like that. Just roll with it.”
    “Okay. Not a problem.”
    Jennifer strode back into the kitchen, now minus