A Gift to Remember

by Melissa Hill

  ‘It’ll be fine. I’ll get there eventually. I always do.’

  ‘Well, like I said, try not to work too hard. You deserve to have a life of your own sometimes, even though I’m not sure you actually realise that.’

  She told me again that she would keep me posted on when she would be arriving and I wished her goodbye. When I hung up, I had to admit I was glad she had called – though still a little annoyed at the suggestion that I was jeopardising my relationship with Mel, when she had to know that it would be the very last thing I’d do.

  I placed the phone on the side table and thought again about Ciara’s words. Maybe my sister was right, maybe I had been taking too much on lately, and that’s the reason I was feeling a little dejected at the moment.

  I resolved to make sure she and I spent some quality time together while she was back in the city, maybe try and arrange a night out or something, just the two of us. Unlike the previous visit, where something last-minute had come up and I’d barely had enough time to see her for a cup of coffee.

  Trying to shake the gloom, I picked up an advance reading copy of a book by an author named Oliver Martin that an editor friend gave me a few days ago.

  I wasn’t sure if the storyline sounded like my thing but by all accounts the author was very popular and I needed something to distract me in any case.

  I was about to start reading when the phone piped up again. It must be Ciara, I thought, calling back to say something she had forgotten the first time around (or to tell me off again).

  But this time it was a male voice on the other end. ‘Aidan? Is that you?’

  It was Nate Cleaver-Parks.

  I sat up straight in the chair, feeling a surge of energy rush through me. Please let him be calling with good news.

  ‘What’s up, Nate? I was wondering if you had forgotten about me.’

  ‘Sorry. Got tied up with that whole LA Tiffany Bennington mess. Her parents bailed her out, you know, but they also toted her back to New York. And because she’s bored, she called me.’ I was about to ask if he had spoken to the Benningtons about my query, but before I formed the question, Nate answered it for me. ‘And no, just in case you’re wondering, it’s not them that I’m calling you about. I actually have someone else for you to talk to. And well, OK, you will be talking to his assistant, but she’ll be able to speak on her boss’s behalf, OK?’

  ‘Fantastic. OK, who do I have to call?’

  There was a pause. ‘Do you have a pen?’

  ‘Not with me. Hold on.’ I raced up to the office where I had left the list, grabbed the key, unlocked the drawer and extracted the folder and a pen. Then I picked up the extension handset, ready for business. ‘OK, shoot.’

  ‘All right. I want you to talk to Stephanie Everly.’

  I wrote down the name and as Nate gave me some background on the woman and her employer, I hoped that this new avenue would actually lead somewhere and wouldn’t be as fruitless and exhausting as everything that I had already tried.

  ‘Thanks, Nate. I owe you one,’ I said, breathing an inward sigh of relief. Here’s hoping that this Stephanie Everly, whoever she is, may be able to help me.

  ‘Not a problem. Let me know how it goes, OK?’ he said, wrapping up the call. ‘Interested to know if you hit the jackpot and I hope it all pans out.’

  Chapter 28

  Let us read, and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world. Voltaire

  ‘Whoever will watch Bailey?’ Grace fretted later that evening, pacing in front of her blinking pink and white Christmas tree, as Darcy waited for her neighbour to get ready for their impromptu night out.

  ‘Ricardo’s going to come check on him during his break,’ she replied, not exactly proud of how she’d lured Luigi’s waiter in and taken advantage of his interest in her with the promise of a home-cooked meal sometime. She was grateful that Luigi hadn’t yet made a stink about her house-guest overstaying his welcome – in fact, both her landlord and Ricardo had taken a bit of a shine to the Husky. She’d had little option but to curry favour with Ricardo if she and Bailey’s fall-back dog-sitter were to take advantage of Aidan’s tickets. ‘Anyway, Grace, why all the worrying? I thought you’d be happy. It’s the ballet!’

  The older woman softened. ‘I know, dear, and it’s awfully sweet of your friend but I have to confess, it’s been years since I’ve gone out on the town. I’m not . . . I’m not sure I’m ready.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Darcy answered, urging Grace into her bedroom so they could choose an outfit for the 7.30 performance of The Nutcracker at the Koch Theater. ‘You eat out at Luigi’s almost every night, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s different, dear. The place is a dive. But the Koch is legendary in ballet circles. This is a big deal.’

  ‘It is?’ Darcy asked, glancing down at herself and her boring black trousers and purple merino sweater combo. Now she was starting to wonder if she was up to it.

  ‘Why yes, dear. I told you, I danced there myself, many, many moons ago.’

  Darcy strengthened her resolve. ‘Then all the more reason to go back tonight and enjoy it. Listen, I think I might do a quick change myself, but I’ll come back over to get you in ten minutes, OK? We both need to be ready to leave soon if we’re going to make the performance on time.’

  Darcy dashed across the hall, digging out her vintage wrap dress, about the only vaguely glamorous item of clothing she had in her closet. Though what she wouldn’t give to have those Jimmy Choos now! she groaned, giving Bailey a murderous look. The Husky remained sprawled lazily on her bed as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Well, she did have a cute pair of courtesan-style heels that just might work, Darcy thought, rummaging deeper into the closet.

  Once dressed, she stood in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door and looked appraisingly at her reflection, frowning at the sight of her habitual ponytail and face devoid of make-up.

  She was lucky in that her skin was in good condition and mostly blemish-free, but Joshua was right; she really did need to try harder. Perhaps then a guy of Aidan Harris’ calibre might be interested enough to ask her out.

  The feminist in her immediately berated herself for thinking that way, deciding that any man concerned primarily with appearances was hardly worth her time, but Darcy had to admit that she wasn’t exactly making the most of her femininity. She should tame her wayward hair for a start. It was actually quite soft and shiny, though she rarely wore it down. And everyone always commented on her eyes, which were a curious shade of green that looked especially vivid when accentuated with mascara or eye-liner.

  Rummaging around in a drawer, she located her old cosmetics bag and proceeded to apply foundation, eye make-up and some faint blusher. Then, untying her hair, she shook it out and let it fall casually around her face, surprised at how long it had grown. The ends now reached well past her shoulders. The longer style definitely gave her a somewhat more glamorous – and yes, definitely sexier – look, she decided approvingly.

  Smearing on some bright red lipstick to finish the job, she re-examined her appearance, feeling a little taken aback by the transformation and moreover how good it felt. Maybe she really should take the time to glam up a little more now and again.

  She was just slipping on a faintly vintage-style grey cape she remembered Katherine buying her in Macy’s last year as she knocked on Grace’s door. Her neighbour appeared in the doorway, a stunner in a silver gown that hit her mid-calf and showed off her high, elegant neck and still-strong arms. A black shawl was draped across her shoulders and fell to the middle of her back, accenting the diamond pendant earrings that glittered on either side of her nervous smile. Now this was a lady who really knew how to glam up.

  ‘Wow, Grace, you look beautiful!’ Darcy gasped, amazed at how, since she’d got to know the older woman better, it was as if the years had simply fallen away. She’d always viewed Mrs Henley as a grumpy old lady, but since Bailey had come into the
ir lives a few days before, she’d begun to understand that Grace was simply a lonely middle-aged woman.

  Not too unlike herself perhaps, Darcy admitted; though scratch the middle-aged bit.

  Since her conversation with Joshua earlier she had been thinking about that, wondering if this was the real reason she’d been so eager to throw herself into helping Aidan Harris.

  Was she lonely?

  Yes, she was surrounded by lovely people who cared about her, like Katherine, Joshua and Ashley from the bookstore, and indeed she had stayed in touch with many of Chaucer’s staff over the years. But ultimately, and while it might sound a little pathetic to some, her beloved books had always been her closest friends and confidantes.

  It had been that way since childhood. Sure, she’d always talked about doing things; travelling more and experiencing adventures in faraway places, but as she routinely did so vicariously through the pages of a book, the ambition never seemed to go any further than that – talk.

  Like most New Yorkers, Darcy adored the city. It had so much to offer that one truly didn’t need to leave it at all, but now she wondered if she clung to the place, almost like a life-raft, safe in the knowledge that it was her constant – and that no more bad things could happen as long as she remained cocooned in the city’s embrace.

  But since she’d met Aidan and had had a chance to examine the exciting life he seemed to lead it had somehow turned the spotlight on what was lacking in her own. She didn’t mean the money or the incredible house – though there was no question it was the stuff of dreams – but it was almost as if her quest to help Aidan reconstruct the story of his life was also helping Darcy discover the missing pieces of her own.

  And she wondered if she was a little too guilty of using escapism as a means to avoid confronting the reality of her own life, and what it might be lacking.

  ‘Look at us,’ Grace whispered as they clomped down the steps in their heels, putting an end to Darcy’s musings. ‘We look like a couple of real gals.’

  The taxi she had called for them was waiting, and through the steamy windows of Luigi’s Ricardo waved at them both, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Don’t look now, dear,’ joked Grace, lowering herself into the cab. ‘But I think you have an admirer.’

  Darcy chuckled, sliding in next to her and giving the driver their destination. ‘Who says he’s admiring me?’

  As the taxi headed uptown, she couldn’t deny feeling more than a little excited. A night at the ballet in one of New York’s premier theatres was yet another thing that had thus far been out of her realm of experience, and it would be a chance to experience a tiny part of Aidan Harris’s glamorous lifestyle.

  She wondered again if these tickets had been bought by him and if so, who had he planned on accompanying him tonight?

  The woman called Melanie who had sounded so indignant on the answering machine yesterday had certainly given the impression that Aidan might have been stepping out with more than one woman recently, yet on the other hand, hadn’t he taken the time to arrange that beautiful gift for someone special? Notwithstanding that in the short time she’d known him, he’d come across as a down to earth kind of guy, and wasn’t in the least bit flirtatious with her. Although perhaps, Darcy thought somewhat glumly, it was that she simply wasn’t worthy of his interest.

  The driver dropped them off right in front of the steps up to the Lincoln Center, where the Koch Theater was located, and the two women made their way up the steps and onto the main plaza. As they neared the top and the backlit fountain came into view – the water sparkling like a diamond in the darkness – Darcy was immediately struck by something.

  The black and white picture of the blonde woman in Aidan’s apartment . . . it had been taken here at the plaza right in front of the Revson Fountain. She couldn’t understand why she hadn’t realised it before now, since the fountain’s backlit jets and circular arrangement were so distinctive. However, she guessed that she’d been so focused on the woman herself she’d hadn’t paid close enough attention to the background.

  And now that she thought about the photo again – the woman’s confident, arching pose, her arms over her head . . . Darcy took the tickets out of her purse and looked at them, the cogs turning in her brain. Could it be that the woman in the photograph was a ballerina? It might explain why Aidan had the tickets. Then she wondered, her heart racing as she tried to put the pieces together while she and Grace made their way to the entrance of the theatre, could it be that the same woman was performing here tonight?

  Once inside, Darcy hurriedly opened the programme she and Grace had been given, and scanned through the names of the performers, trying to find a dancer by the name of the only person she could so far confirm was missing Aidan and was worried by his absence.

  Granted it was a long shot, but she figured it was worth a try.

  If she could find her, then she could at least explain why Aidan had let her down, and if Melanie turned out to be Aidan’s girlfriend – the love of his life and the one who was supposed to receive the gift from him – then Darcy could put things right.

  But there was no Melanie listed on that night’s programme.

  ‘What’s the matter, dear?’ Grace asked as an usher directed them to their seats, and they both sat back. ‘You seem distracted.’

  Darcy was in two minds whether to share her thoughts with Grace, but she figured it would do no harm to have someone else’s perspective on the matter. There were so many mysteries surrounding Aidan that she could barely get her head straight.

  ‘My, my, such a muddle,’ Grace said, when Darcy finished the tale some minutes later. ‘But I think you may be right about this lady being a ballerina, at least. It’s almost obligatory for any dancer talented enough to perform at the New York City Ballet to be photographed at the fountain – a rite of passage, if you will. I have one of myself tucked away somewhere – though the fountain was quite different back then.’

  Darcy heart raced; she was on to something now, she was sure of it. The question was, could the reason he had those tickets be because his blonde friend was actually performing The Nutcracker here tonight? And if so, would Darcy be able to recognise her?

  The auditorium was beautiful – a hybrid of traditional and continental-style seating on the orchestra level, and five balconies adorned with jewel-like faceted lights. Hanging from the gold-panelled ceiling was a large spherical chandelier.

  ‘Is it how you remember?’ Darcy asked Grace.

  ‘Would you believe, it’s exactly as I remember,’ the older woman replied fondly, a tear in her eye. ‘It’s as if I’ve stepped back in time. And these are Fourth Ring, the best seats in the house.’

  Darcy didn’t understand; she was actually a little under-whelmed that the two of them were seated on a balcony three rows from the back, and thus such a distance from the stage, but Grace explained that the further away from the dancers, the better to view the detail of the dance.

  There was a jovial feel to the evening, as everyone – the men decked out in smart suits and the women in festive sparkling clothes and fine jewellery – took their seats. Temporarily putting aside all other thoughts as the lights dimmed and the performance began, Darcy sat back, the hairs standing on the back of her neck as the first performer dashed onstage; wearing a soft red helmet, gorgeous satiny blue jacket with bright gold buttons and shimmering red tights. And right then it hit home just how lucky she was to be experiencing a night at the magical New York Ballet.

  She had never been to a performance before, and to watch was almost to forget oneself; to fall in love with the dance. It was a stunning spectacle, and Darcy was breathless throughout as she saw the graceful performers leap lithely around the stage, muscles defined and motions fluid, as if they’d been born to dance.

  Afterwards, she gripped Grace’s hand. ‘Just incredible!’ she whispered as the curtain fell. The crowd roared its approval but none more loudly than Grace and Darcy, high up in the balc
ony where Aidan Harris and an unknown companion should have been.

  And though she’d tried her utmost to see if she could pick out the woman in the photograph, it was impossible to get a proper look at the dancers from this distance. Even if she had been able to get any closer, Darcy doubted she’d be able to identify her beneath the greasepaint and costumes.

  As other patrons moved past them in the aisle she stood to go but Grace held her back. ‘Let’s just enjoy it a moment longer,’ she suggested. Darcy noticed the older woman’s eyes glittering and she was grateful once again to Aidan for his generosity.

  ‘Grace Clarke?’ a voice called out from nearby, and the two women looked to find an older man, humbly dressed in an old driving cap atop a head full of stringy white hair moving up the aisle steps towards them.

  ‘Chalmers?’ Grace gasped, a hand to her throat. ‘I can’t believe you recognised me.’

  ‘Or you me,’ he chuckled.

  The two embraced, and Grace introduced the man as one of her former dancing partners; she explained that Clarke was her maiden name.

  ‘I haven’t seen you since you got married and crossed to the dark side,’ Chalmers said, smiling at her fondly, and Darcy knew that tonight had meant a lot to her neighbour and was bringing back special memories in more ways than one.

  Chapter 29

  Reality can be beaten with enough imagination. Mark Twain

  The following morning, Darcy walked along the footpath on Central Park’s West Drive, Bailey at her side. The place was truly spectacular at this time of year, low winter sunshine illuminating the surrounding buildings, a light dusting of snow on the ground and on bare branches set against a brilliant blue sky.

  She had no choice but to take Aidan’s dog to work with her today, as following Grace’s happy reunion with Chalmers last night at the ballet, it seemed her neighbour now had a lunch date with her old friend.

  Darcy didn’t mind, she’d imposed too much on her as it was, and furthermore she knew that the gentle Husky would be perfectly behaved. Anyway, the customers might appreciate it, though she knew the same couldn’t be said for the staff – one of them at least, she thought with smile.