44 Charles Street

He stopped in at the gallery that week and bought a small painting for Avery that he thought she would like. Francesca gave him the partner’s rate, which made it ridiculously cheap, but he loved the work she sold. He was impressed that she frequently went to art fairs in other cities to discover new artists and spent hours in her artists’ studios, studying their new work with them. And he thought that most of what she had in the gallery was very good. He had a strong feeling that one or two of the artists she represented would have important careers one day. She told him that the artist he was buying had been selling well, and had sold several bigger pieces since Thanksgiving, although her father thought her prices were too low, and very fair. She commented that people seemed more willing to spend money right before the holidays. Her father was particularly pleased that he had just sold a very important piece himself. He was planning to buy Avery a new car, a Range Rover, with some of what he’d made. She had always wanted one, and despite her success, she still drove an ancient Toyota that Henry insisted wasn’t safe, and she had refused to let him replace it until then. He said he was going to surprise her with the car for Christmas before they left for Aspen.

It struck Francesca as she closed the gallery on Christmas Eve that neither of her parents was worried about what she was going to do for Christmas. They always made their own plans. It had made holidays more meaningful with Todd, but not this year. He had plans of his own, and she had none. There were friends and artists she could have called, but she didn’t feel like it. She had turned down two invitations. She felt melancholy this year and wanted to be alone. Todd was moving out in a few days, and his boxes were stacked in the hall when she got home. It was happening. She was ready for it now, but sad. It would have been hard not to be.

She watched movies and ate Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve. She hadn’t set up a Christmas tree and didn’t miss it. She wanted the holidays to pass as quickly as possible. And after the New Year, she could start a whole new life, alone again.

Both her parents called her on Christmas Day, and she saw Todd on his way out. He waved, smiled, and was talking to someone on his cell phone as he left. She noticed that he was wearing a suit, and wondered where he was going and with whom. It was hard to believe now that they had ever lived together, or had anything in common.

She took a long walk around the West Village that afternoon, and smiled at couples she saw, strolling with children. Some were carrying stacks of presents to someone’s house, and she saw a Santa Claus in a red velvet suit get out of his car, put on his hat and beard, and hurry in to a party. It was a strange day to be alone, but in a funny way she didn’t mind it. It was easier than pretending she was happy. She thought of her mother on the yacht in the Caribbean, hoping to meet a man, and her father and Avery in Aspen, and this year she was glad to be on her own. She went to bed early that night and was glad the day was over.

And then the day she had anticipated and dreaded for months came at last. She went to bed at nine o’clock on New Year’s Eve, and was sound asleep by midnight, and in the morning she could hear Todd thundering up and down the stairs, moving his boxes. He had rented a truck, and had two friends helping him. Francesca wandered into the living room, in time to watch them pick up the couch. They had already agreed to what each of them was keeping and he had paid for the couch. It was a good-looking brown leather piece that went well with their décor, and she knew she’d have to buy a new one. He had agreed to let her keep the bed and most of the things in their bedroom, although he had paid for them too. But he wanted the couch and the two big chairs that went with it, for his new apartment. Francesca tried not to feel her stomach turning over as she saw them go. She felt as though her body parts had been sawn off and were packed in each box, and somewhere amid the bubble wrap and styrofoam popcorn, along with their wineglasses that he had paid for too, was her heart.

It was over by midafternoon on New Year’s Day. The truck was packed to the gills, and Todd came to find her, standing in the kitchen, with a devastated look, looking out at the wintry garden.

“I’m leaving,” he said softly, as she turned to face him, and he saw tears roll down her cheeks. He took her in his arms, and he was crying too. “I know this sounds stupid now, but I love you. I’m sorry it worked out like this.”

“So am I. I love you too.” But no matter how much it hurt and they cared about each other, they both knew it was for the best. It hadn’t worked.