Explain to me one more time how you got this invitation,” Stevie said as we all got out of the town car—me, Stevie, and Leo the driver. When I’d suggested the party, he’d said that he could wait for us, but Stevie and I had both been emphatic that we weren’t going to let that happen—and surely he had other people to drive?

“Not until an airport pickup in Hartfield at three a.m.,” he’d explained. “I was just going to wait in a diner or something after I dropped you off.”

That was when Stevie, using her most reasonable voice, had pointed out that he had to be in Connecticut at three a.m. anyway. So why not kill the time at a loft party instead of a diner? After a moment of silent deliberation, he’d seen the logic in that, and now the three of us were all walking across the cobblestone streets together, Leo in his suit looking extremely sharp.

“This is so cool,” I said, head tipped back as I looked at the snow falling, at the bridge that seemed so enormous, at the views of the water. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been to Dumbo before, but I’d immediately recognized it, from movies and TV, a dream of New York made real.

The ride to Brooklyn hadn’t been that long, but we’d tried to get it all in—Mr. Campbell and Stevie’s dad, Beckett and Cary. We’d had to get into movie stars and stepsiblings, bad theater and Pomeranians, botched proposals and underground poker games, muggers and free meals in expensive restaurants. I wanted to hear everything about Stevie’s talk with her dad, and she wanted me to explain the note that Cary had given her for me.

I’d smiled when I’d seen it. It was a drawing, in the same style as his Bartleby illustrations. It was of the two of us, riding on his scooter down a New York street, my arms spread wide, a big smile on my face, Cary leaning forward over the handlebars like a racer.

“Explain this part,” Stevie had said, tapping on the figure riding on a scooter next to us. It was a peanut dressed in the Grim Reaper’s robes, bony hand reaching out for Cary, peanut brittle scythe over his shoulder (did peanuts have shoulders?).

“It’s a long story,” I’d said, laughing as I carefully folded it and put it in my coat pocket.

“Oh!” Stevie said. “I forgot to tell you—I think Cary’s a millionaire now?”