by Melissa Hill
She half-worried that the woman might ask to see her phone, flip though it and make sure she hadn’t taken any sneaky pictures while she was here. Darcy supposed that was the kind of life these women led and she briefly felt sorry for Tabitha – but only briefly. What she wouldn’t give to be able to sit around all day being pampered and doing nothing. Granted she could keep the being pampered part though. Darcy’s cuticles were still smarting from the effects of her first manicure, though admittedly her hands did look nice and feel soft, and the length of each nail was now perfectly aligned. A short spell opening boxes of books at Chaucer’s would soon put an end to that, she thought wryly.
Still, she had her day off tomorrow to look forward to and was hoping to get in some long-overdue reading time. She’d been so busy the last couple of evenings running around trying to help Aidan that she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open at night, let alone get in a couple of chapters before sleep. Which was seriously unlike her.
But it was also very difficult to concentrate on reading when you were trying to share your bed with a fifty-pound lump of fur. Bailey had been making himself at home on Darcy’s couch, floor and her bed too.
As she left the salon, she sent a quick text to Katherine to thank her for arranging the introduction and telling her that she owed her one, even though her meeting hadn’t yielded any helpful results.
Going back to pick up her bike, she checked her watch and decided that, seeing as she was already in this part of town, she might as well head a few blocks down to the Apple store and see if there was any hope of saving Aidan’s smashed iPhone.
Pulling up by the Pulitzer Fountain, Darcy jumped from her bike and fastened it to the parking rack on the concrete plaza just across the street from the huge glass box building that housed some of the most up-and-coming technology on the market.
Darcy’s technology aversion was well known by her friends.
She felt that sadly, technology stores and their wares were beginning to take the place of bookstores or libraries as a place for kids to spend time. How could any piece of kit ever replicate the feel and smell of a real book or the joy of turning the pages and creasing the spine? A book was so much more than simply words on a page. Darcy still had every single book she’d bought and read for the last twenty years or so, and had reread many of them multiple times over. She’d even bought second copies of books she already owned because the cover on the other one was even prettier. And in the case of some of her absolute favourites, she had two copies – one to keep, unspoiled, and the other to read. For her, books were physical memories, portable magic.
As far as Darcy was concerned, a simple piece of plastic could never even begin to compete with any of that, and while some of the new reading devices might be convenient for some people, she herself would never be a convert.
Checking once again that she did in fact have Aidan’s phone with her, she entered the glass box and proceeded downstairs to the basement area in which the Apple retail store was situated. Immediately she was struck by sensory overload. It was so bright and white and clinical – and all these people were wandering around looking slightly spaced out as they perused the devices with a visible sense of wonder and awe.
Darcy dodged the crowds and waited her turn to speak to a sales assistant. She’d heard somewhere that the store didn’t have cash registers per se and that the clerks simply rang you up from wherever they were helping you via little hand-held computers.
‘How can I help you today?’ a friendly male assistant asked, when after a few minutes’ wait, he finally became free.
Darcy took Aidan’s iPhone out of her bag. ‘Well, this phone is broken, and I wanted to—’
‘Do you have an appointment?’ he asked kindly, and Darcy wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. Whoever heard of making an appointment to ask a simple question?
‘I’m sorry? No, I don’t actually but I just wanted to ask—’
‘I can put you on the waiting list then,’ he interjected, his tone so pleasant, yet so decidedly unhelpful that Darcy felt like screaming.
‘The waiting list?’
‘Yes. It should only be a fifteen to twenty-minute wait at the most.’
Her eyes widened. How did such stores stay in business? If they operated a similar policy at Chaucer’s – making customers wait around for fifteen minutes to ask a mere question, they’d be out of business in no time.
But perhaps this was simply another part of the appeal of Apple. Almost like a guy who played hard to get, and you merely wanted him more because of it?
Right then Darcy didn’t have the patience for some technological pseudo-mating ritual. ‘Can you just answer a quick question for me?’ she pleaded. ‘Is it possible to get a person’s data from a broken phone?’
‘I’d really love to help you but I’m afraid you’ll need to talk to somebody from our Technical Support team,’ he replied in the same infuriatingly kind tone.
Granted the guy seemed lovely but Darcy was in two minds about whether to storm out of the store or wait around for somebody who could help her. Then, reminding herself that she was here not for her own benefit but to try and help Aidan, she decided she might as well bite the bullet and hang around.
She checked her watch. It was now well after 6 p.m. and she felt guilty enough as it was about leaving Bailey with Grace for a second night running, let alone another late one. But at least she wouldn’t have to burden her neighbour again tomorrow, and with luck if she got this sorted, Bailey would be going back to his owner sooner rather than later.
She leaned against a nearby wall while she waited, remaining determinedly unmoved by the various paraphernalia that everyone else seemed to view as manna from the heavens.
Fifteen minutes later she had successfully moved along on the waiting list and a young female employee who looked about fourteen approached her. ‘Are you Darcy?’ she asked.
Caught offguard, Darcy said, ‘Oh yes, that’s me. Is it my turn now?’
The girl smiled. ‘Yep. You were pretty lucky to get seen to so quickly without an appointment,’ she said, and Darcy smiled wryly. Lucky indeed. But again, this Apple employee seemed like a sweet girl. ‘My name is Jenna, and I’m going to be helping you today. I understand you have a smashed device? That’s tough.’
Darcy nodded and showed her Aidan’s phone. ‘Yes. I was wondering if it can be fixed?’
Jenna took the handset from her and engaged in a quick examination. ‘Hmm, it is pretty banged up.’ She went on to point out the damage to various ports and points using language that sailed straight over Darcy’s head. ‘Well, unfortunately such things can rarely be repaired, and it’s usually more cost-effective to get a new phone,’ she told her in conclusion.
Darcy grimaced. ‘That’s what I figured. But what about the information – the contact numbers and everything: would all of this have been damaged too?’
‘No, no, there’s nothing actually wrong with the phone memory. And the only reason the screen is blank is because the battery’s dead,’ Jenna informed her knowledgeably. ‘So we can easily transfer all of your data to the new one.’ She turned her attention to a little hand-held device that pulled up account information. ‘So, what’s your full name and billing address, Darcy? And I can get a replacement iPhone sent down for you right away.’
‘Oh no – you see the thing is, the phone isn’t mine,’ Darcy told her hastily. ‘I’m just checking for a friend who really needs to access his information – contacts, photographs, diary entries, that kind of thing.’
‘Oh, OK.’ Jenna’s face gave nothing away but Darcy guessed that no doubt employees like her heard countless versions of sob stories from people coming in with phones that weren’t theirs, but wanting to access the information just the same. It sounded like a situation normally faced by the spouses of cheaters and scorned significant others.
But before Jenna could shut up shop and tell her that she wouldn’t be able to access anything without the accounthold
er’s permission, Darcy launched into the story of the accident and how she was trying to help Aidan overcome his amnesia. She really needed Jenna’s help, even if she knew that the story she was telling made her sound a little bit crazy. And she wasn’t even sure how effective she was being, considering the younger girl was staring at her in open-mouthed silence.
When Darcy finally stopped to take a breath, she decided that she needed to reinforce her desperation. ‘Please, Jenna. I know that this is unusual, and probably goes against company policy, but I really do need your help. All of this is my fault and I am just trying to make it right.’
Jenna finally closed her mouth and regarded Darcy sceptically. ‘You’re right, this really is against company policy.’
‘Please. It’s only five days till Christmas and I am sure someone is missing him but nobody’s been able to get in touch with his family to tell them where he is. They’re probably going out of their minds,’ she added, thinking about the woman on the answer machine who must be distraught by now.
Darcy guessed that if she could just access the iPhone information there would be countless and increasingly desperate calls from the same woman, and possibly more of Aidan’s loved ones too. ‘You and I both know that most people’s lives are contained in their phones. Please. Would a stalker pay to have a phone fixed or buy a new one for a guy she barely even knows?’
Jenna’s face was neutral even if she was thinking that a stalker might indeed do any and all of those things. Finally, she spoke. ‘So, what’s this guy’s name? I’m assuming you know that much at least.’
Darcy nodded, happy that she did have this information. ‘Yes. It’s Aidan Harris.’
Jenna went to work tapping the information into the device. Then she frowned. ‘There are actually quite a few Aidan Harrises in the system. Do you by any chance have an address?’
Darcy duly relayed the address of Aidan’s place off Central Park West. After Jenna input the new information, she nodded.
‘Ah, I see it here now, but it’s listed under a company name.’ Then suddenly the younger girl’s eyes lit up in recognition. ‘Actually I remember this guy. He was just here – I don’t know, about a week ago, maybe? I remember thinking the company sounded pretty cool from the name.’ She looked up at Darcy. ‘Tall with dark hair and eyes? And kinda hot, if a little old.’
Aidan couldn’t be more than late thirties, not much older than Darcy but she supposed he seemed positively ancient for young Jenna.
‘Yes, that certainly sounds like him.’
The girl’s green eyes sparkled. ‘Yes, I totally remember him. He was having issues with his contact list. I set up Siri for him.’ She looked back down at her little computer screen. ‘So he’s in the hospital now? You ran him over – seriously?’
Darcy bit her lip. ‘Well, kind of. But it was an accident. And it was with my bike. It’s not as though I crashed into him with a car or anything. But in light of this, do you think we can get him a new phone? And how much will it cost?’ Her stomach clenched, not having a clue if she had enough credit on her Visa card to pay for it.
Jenna smiled. ‘No need to worry; there is insurance with the phone and instructions that any repairs, issues, bills, et cetera are to be charged to the company account. I can arrange for a replacement, and then we can set up the data transfer.’
‘So he won’t lose any of the existing information and will be able to access contact numbers, photographs – all that?’ Darcy felt heartened; the stars were finally aligning in her favour.
‘Yes, but first we will need written authorisation from the company to order the replacement.’
Darcy frowned, wondering how she was going to get round this. She guessed that if he worked for the company or even owned it, Aidan could sign some kind of authorisation?
Then a thought struck her. ‘Of course,’ she told Jenna distractedly. ‘I’m sure that would be no problem. Thanks so much for your help. Can you tell me the name of the company so that I can arrange it?’
‘Sure.’ Jenna looked back down at the device in her hand and gave Darcy another piece of the puzzle that was Aidan Harris. ‘Like I said, I thought it sounded kind of interesting. The name on the company account is Thrill Seeker Holdings.’
Chapter 19
Life’s under no obligation to give us what we expect. Margaret Mitchell
Later that evening, back home with Bailey curled up alongside her on the couch, Darcy powered up her ancient Vaio laptop and did an internet search for Thrill Seeker Holdings.
She’d been curious from the outset about what Aidan did for a living; finding out more about the company would provide her with the answer.
Like Jenna, she thought the name sounded intriguing, and wondered if he was one of those guys who was involved in adrenaline-type extreme sports, like snow-boarding and skydiving – a view bolstered by the photographs she’d seen in his house. When the search came back she was expecting to be faced with pages of listings detailing the company’s various high-octane offerings.
She couldn’t imagine that such a business would generate the kind of serious money that Aidan seemed to have though, and she considered for the first time the possibility that his wealth might indeed have been inherited, after all. Perhaps he was actually American by birth but had picked up the Irish lilt while attending college there or something? She knew Trinity College was an old and prestigious Dublin university, and sometimes the place of choice for second- or third-generation Irish-American families seeking to reconnect with their heritage.
She resolved to ask Aidan if the name of the college meant anything to him, and then turned her attention back to the internet search.
But unfortunately Google yielded scant results on Thrill Seeker Holdings; just a link to a general information page and a brief paragraph confirming that its office was incorporated at the Upper West Side address. Nothing at all about what activities the company engaged in, or information on its directors, shareholders or employees. Odd.
Darcy recalled from her brief introduction to the mechanics of business during her time at Celebrate magazine that holding companies were often set up for legal or taxation rather than operational reasons, and she guessed this was one such situation. The question remained: was Aidan an employee of the company or its founder?
Well, she could ask him about it tomorrow and see if the name kicked anything loose in his memory. Despite her best intentions to fill her day off tomorrow with reading and relaxation, now Darcy was anxious to arrange the necessary authorisation to replace his iPhone, which meant that she would have to pay Roosevelt Hospital another visit. And of course she’d also promised to fix him up with a temporary phone, which would be helpful to both of them for keeping in touch.
And possibly most important of all, she needed to drop off the package to him too, she thought, reminding herself of it. Setting the computer aside, she rose to her feet and went to the drawer in which she’d stashed it the other night.
Taking it out and sitting back down on the sofa, she withdrew the gift box from the paper bag and studied it again.
It was probably five inches by eight inches or so, and the luxurious box and grosgrain ribbon signified that it had come from somewhere very upmarket indeed. She couldn’t put her finger on why exactly, but it gave off an air of expectation, almost as if the air around it was charged with electricity.
And was it her imagination, or did it have the weight and dimensions approximate to a hardback book?
Could this be the key to unlocking Aidan’s memory? She hugged the package to her, taken by the romantic notion that a simple book could well be the answer to all of this, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to open it there and then.
At that same moment, Bailey sat up and nudged her elbow, as if interested in sharing in her musings. Darcy stared at him, wishing for the umpteenth time that the Husky could talk. He could tell all there was to know about his owner.
Looking back down at the gift box, she gently p
ositioned the nail of her index finger under the lid, wondering if there was any way she could identify what was inside by getting a tiny peek.
As she did so, Bailey whined faintly and cocked his head. She bit her lip, wondering if he was trying to tell her to ‘go ahead’ or ‘hold on, you might not want to do that.’
She looked at him, trying to figure out what the Husky was thinking. Then she looked again at the box, sorely tempted. ‘What do you think, boy?’
Bailey put his head on her knee and fixed those disconcertingly intelligent blue eyes on her face.
Darcy sighed and patted his crown. ‘I know, I know, you’re right. When all is said and done, I don’t think your owner would be too happy with me for interfering.’ Especially if the gift was something very personal.
No, she would leave the decision up to Aidan about whether the contents would be helpful when she returned it to him tomorrow. Darcy hoped against hope that he would put her out of her misery by tearing the gift open there and then, as she knew her curiosity about whether or not it was indeed a book (and if so, what book?) would drive her crazy. Much as her curiosity about Aidan Harris was driving her crazy.
Who had he bought it for? His mother? A sister? Girlfriend? Her heart deflated a little at the thought and she fought off disappointment that the first guy she’d felt close to in an age should be involved with someone else. It had to be some lucky loved one of his who was worthy of such a beautifully presented token.
Thinking of loved ones, Darcy decided to call Katherine and thank her aunt properly for her help in arranging the meeting with Tabitha at Elizabeth Arden.
‘So how did it go?’ her aunt asked once Darcy had assured her that she hadn’t let the family name down.
‘Not terribly well. She didn’t seem to know Aidan Harris at all.’
‘You know, that woman is only a few years older than you,’ her aunt replied in an apparent non-sequitur.