A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas

by A Very Merry Manhattan Christmas (retail) (epub)

  “There you go.” Dale placed a large glass mug full of hot chocolate in front of her. Steam rose off the top, where whipped cream and marshmallows floated. Next to her drink, he put a small red plate with a large donut. Its freshly baked aroma filled Lucie’s nostrils and she licked her lips as she imagined putting the sugar coated treat in her mouth.

  “Back in a sec.” Dale returned to the counter.

  “Fancied a mince pie,” he said, as he put his own plate on the table, along with another hot chocolate.

  “I don’t know how you can eat those things.” Lucie shuddered. Growing up, she’d loved mince pies, with their sweet, spiced filling and crumbly pastry, but now they just reminded her of that Christmas Eve and the ensuing nausea that followed. Once something had exited through your nose, you were never going to relish it again.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Dale said as he bit into his pie. Pastry crumbs tumbled from his mouth and he swept them up with a napkin. “Very fresh,” he mumbled from behind his hand.

  Lucie nodded and sipped her chocolate. The fluffy cream and melted marshmallows slipped silkily over her tongue. It was heavenly, as sweet and comforting as a hug and absolutely delicious.

  As they sat in the warmth, defrosting after their walk, carols rang out from speakers around the cafe. The coffee machine buzzed and frothed. In spite of herself, Lucie sang along to the carols in her head: Hark the herald angels sing…

  “What do you think about getting a tree this year, Luce?” Dale asked innocently, as if he hadn’t asked her every year for the past five years.

  “You know how I feel about Christmas trees.”

  “But look at that one. It’s pretty, right?” Dale gestured at the tree in the corner. It stood around five feet tall and was decorated with twinkling white lights and multi-coloured tinsel. At the top sat a dainty angel with rosy cheeks. Fat snowmen hung around the tree, each one wearing tiny hats and scarves and holding a candy cane, a wrapped gift or a hymn book. They all wore the same gleeful expression, insisting that Christmas was a time of fun and cheer, that everyone – even those who melted in the sunshine – should celebrate the festive season.

  “It’s all right. I guess. If you buy into all that festive nonsense.” Lucie sniffed and tucked her hair behind her ears.

  Dale was not deterred.

  “It would be one way of taking a positive step forwards, you know.”

  “I do know what you mean, and I can understand why you think this would be a good idea. But—”

  Dale held up a hand. “Were you wavering there, Miss Quigley? I think you were. After all, it’s not the season that’s to blame for what happened, right?”

  “Dale, if we get a real tree… I mean, if I get a real tree… it will die when we’re in New York.”

  “So get an artificial one then.” He raised his eyebrows above his big dark eyes.

  Lucie sighed and gazed at the cafe tree. The angel seemed to be smiling right at her, encouraging her, and even the snowmen didn’t look too bad, now that she was getting used to them. Their grins lifted her spirits, and she could imagine that seeing similar decorations at home might well make her feel a little bit festive.

  Go on! For Dale’s sake.

  “Okay, here’s the deal: because you spend so much time at my flat, we will get a tree this year. But… it will be small and the decorations will be tasteful. You know I don’t like fussy or showy décor.” She smiled.

  “No, you just like books. Everywhere!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my books, Dale. I have several first editions, in fact.” Lucie thought of the piles of paperbacks in her flat: from the ones in the corner of her bedroom and on the bookshelf, to those on top of the two wardrobes and the pile in the rather cramped bathroom. Then she had more in the lounge, on shelves and behind the sofa, as well as in the small hallway. Of course, she did have an ereader now, and often downloaded books, but she still couldn’t resist whenever she was out and about and came across a book sale.

  “First editions of what?”

  She looked upwards. “Um… Sweet Valley High.”

  “Sweet Valley High?”

  “Yes, you know, those lovely stories I used to read about the high school twins.”

  “Right.”

  “I can’t part with them, Dale. They have—”

  “Memories. I know. Don’t worry.”

  “My books are like old friends.”

  “Do you ever actually re-read them though, Luce?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Anyway, we’re agreed about the tree?”

  She held out her hand and Dale took it.

  “Agreed.” The smile that lit up his handsome face made Lucie glad that she’d given in on this one detail. It had been twenty years since she’d last celebrated Christmas, and with Dale spending so much time at her flat she did feel a bit guilty that he didn’t get to enjoy the festive things he otherwise might have done. His own house was such a mess with the renovations, and she knew that if he wasn’t always at hers being such a good friend to her, then he might have been able to finish them off sooner. Plus, he’d agreed to come to New York with her. So she owed him this, at least.

  * * *

  “Dale, I said tasteful…” Lucie stared at the monstrosity in her living room. It was huge, reaching from floor to ceiling. Dale had moved a pile of books from the corner of the room and neatly stacked them behind the sofa, with the others, to make space. It was shaking with the weight of decorations in every colour of the rainbow, and white lights flashed quickly among the branches. It made her eyes hurt. “That’s going to give me a migraine.” She threw her coat over the back of the sofa and pulled off her boots.

  “Thought I’d surprise you.” Dale smiled broadly and Lucie’s brief flicker of irritation faded away. She’d come home after a particularly tiring day overseeing Christmas play practice to find that Dale had rushed out and purchased a tree – no doubt before she could change her mind – and that it was not as understated as she’d envisaged.

  “Well… thanks.” She sank onto the sofa and stared at it.

  “Don’t you like it?” Dale sat next to her and she watched as his grin faded. “I tried really hard to get it right.”

  “It’s lovely. Honestly. Thank you.” She was overwhelmed by guilt at her initial irritable reaction. Dale had tried hard to please her.

  “Really?” He watched her carefully, his eyes wary.

  “It’s growing on me as we speak.” She leaned back on the sofa and stretched out her legs. Even though she’d worn comfy boots, her feet were aching after running around all day organizing the children, dealing with minor tantrums and mopping up tears – from staff as well as pupils. Something occurred to her. “What time did you finish work today? It’s only four-thirty now.”

  Dale blushed and toyed with a length of purple tinsel that he hadn’t yet added to the tree.

  “Dale Treharne? What’s up?” She turned in her seat and tucked her legs underneath her. “Oh no. Did I upset you? I do like the tree. I’m just so tired and I felt a bit grumpy when I came in but I didn’t want to offend you. I was being insensitive. I’m sorry. Dale?”

  He glanced at her. “It’s not about the tree.”

  “Oh. Well… Have you changed your mind about going away? I understand if you have. It was a big ask anyway. I don’t mind… I’ll manage.”

  His face had darkened. She was uncomfortable seeing him like this. Dale was usually so upbeat and optimistic, and it took a lot to drag him down.

  He shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s something else.” He pulled at the tinsel and a thin, shiny strand came off. He put it on his leg, then pulled out another. And another.

  “What? What’s happened?”

  “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Does it require a cuppa?”

  His blush deepened.

  “Tell me!” She reached out and rubbed his arm. “Dale, you know you don’t have to be embarrasse
d with me. You can tell me anything.”

  He raised his dark eyes to meet hers. “It’s the kind of thing that another bloke would react differently to, I’m sure. I feel like such an idiot. Like I brought it on myself. I just didn’t know what to do, Luce.” He shook his head then lifted the pile of tinsel from his thigh and dropped it on the table.

  Lucie’s heart thundered and a queasy feeling rose in her stomach. Something bad had happened. Dale never finished work early. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  He shrugged, but his eyes were wary. “I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

  “Hey.” She stopped rubbing his arm and placed a hand over his. “I could never think badly of you. I’d defend you to the last.”

  He sighed. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I did the Manning garden this morning, just some general maintenance, then went across to the Smith place. I usually have the team with me, but Brian had asked for the day off to see his kids’ plays, Jade was on another job and Ruby was sick. Anyhow, there’s usually no one there, as Mrs Smith is always dashing off to social engagements and her husband just about lives in the city.”

  “But not today?”

  He pursed his lips. “No. Today Mrs Smith was there, and she called me in to talk to me about some ideas she’d had for the garden for next year. They’re thinking of putting in a hot tub and a sunhouse, and she wanted me to look over some sketches she’d had done. She’s not bad… some kind of art graduate, I think. I could appreciate the sketches she’d drawn. It all seemed innocuous enough, and I had no reason to suspect that she had any other ideas when she invited me in.”

  “Oh no. I don’t like the sound of this.”

  He frowned. “She gave me a coffee, and while I was poring over the sketches, she disappeared.” He inhaled sharply then licked his lips. “I don’t think I did anything to encourage her, Luce. I was being my normal self. You know how I am with clients, very professional.”

  “I do know. You’re an oxymoron – friendly yet aloof. So what did she do?” Lucie knew that someone who wanted to see it as something else could misconstrue Dale’s friendliness. Like a lonely woman – or a horny one, perhaps.

  He hung his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes, as if the memory was just too much for him to bear. “She came back into the kitchen wearing some flimsy, transparent nightie thing, with feathery slippers.”

  “What?” Lucie suppressed a giggle. Poor Dale. Feathery slippers! A transparent nightie! “That old cliché, hey?”

  “Don’t get me wrong… she’s in good shape for a woman in her fifties, but you know, Luce… I’m not that kind of guy. A lot of men would have been up for it, but it just turned me cold. I was mortified, to be honest. I could see… well… everything!”

  “Oh no! Did she say anything?” Lucie knew Dale was easily embarrassed if anything even remotely erotic appeared on TV, from a passionate kiss shared by characters on a soap opera to those weird adverts for lingerie and sex toys that sometimes flashed up late at night. He always made an excuse to leave the room.

  He nodded. “That she’d seen me looking at her and knew that I wanted her. That today she’d ensured that we’d have time to be alone so we could f… Do stuff. Then she put on some music and—”

  “What music?”

  “I don’t know. Does it matter? Some old-fashioned stuff, like Ella Fitzgerald or something.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’d you mean, ‘Oh’?”

  “Just… you know. One of those women.”

  “Luce, I don’t know why that matters. Anyway, she kind of danced across the kitchen, thrusting her hips at me and licking her lips. Things were sticking out and she kept lifting the hem of the nightie suggestively and bits of the feathers kept drifting off the slippers and… I didn’t know where to look and… I kept telling myself to get up and leave, but I was kind of frozen.”

  “You were?”

  “With sheer terror. Or horror. I don’t really know which, it was all so surreal. You just don’t expect people to behave like that.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Say?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you say anything?”

  “No. I couldn’t. My mind went blank. Then… When she reached me, she ran a hand over my chest, said I was a big boy and that she needed satisfying with my big, hard—”

  “I get it!” Lucie held up a hand. “No need to tell me what else she said. Bloody hell, Dale!” Lucie was filled with conflicting emotions: she felt sorry for Dale, having been subjected to the attentions of this woman, and she was also absolutely furious that this Mrs Smith would dare to upset her friend. Coming on to him like that was disgusting!

  “Anyway, that was enough to scare me into action, so I jumped up and left.”

  “Oh, Dale.”

  His face fell. “I didn’t even say goodbye. I guess I’ve lost that contract now. It paid well, too.”

  “But it’s not worth it. You don’t have to go through things like that. You should… I don’t know… sue for sexual harassment.”

  “And if I did that, I’d lose most of my clients.”

  “But it’s not fair. Loyal people would stick by you.”

  “Some would, but I’m a landscape gardener, Lucie. People talk. I need to develop my customer base, not scare them off. I’ve been approached before, like that time the househusband asked me if I needed a soak in the jacuzzi to ease my backache, but at least he wasn’t so blatant. He kept his clothes on and it was more approach by pun than chiffon and feathers. I wasn’t even sure that he was serious. But with Mrs Smith… I don’t know. I think she might have been drinking.”

  “That is no excuse.” Lucie gazed at Dale’s profile. He was very attractive. She could see why other women would want him. But she also had a depth of feeling for him that had nothing to do with sexual attraction. He was a good guy. He’d never set out to hurt anyone, and he worked so hard. This wasn’t fair. Sometimes his innocence still surprised her, but he’d always had a strong moral code and while some men – and women – would jump into bed with anyone, Dale wasn’t like that.

  “Better get this tinsel finished.” He snapped back into normal industrious mode and continued decorating the tree. Lucie stared at the small pile of purple tinsel on the table, her mind racing as she thought back over what he’d told her. It wasn’t fair that he’d been subjected to that, and she wished it hadn’t happened. But it had, and although it meant he’d probably lose that client, he’d find others. He was good at what he did.

  She wanted to help him feel better, but she didn’t know what to do.

  Then she did.

  Dale was trying hard to make her tree look good; he’d been working on it for most of the afternoon, it seemed. Even after going through that horrid experience. It was time to make him feel appreciated. She pushed her exhaustion to one side and got up off the sofa, ignoring the dull throbbing in her feet and the tension between her shoulders. “Let me help you.”

  “Really?” He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But I wanted to get this done for you so you wouldn’t have to—”

  “I want to help, Dale. You’ve done a fantastic job, and it’s so beautiful. I love it. I really love it! I know…” she gulped, “Let’s put some carols on.”

  “Carols?”

  “Yes. There’s probably one of your old CDs around here somewhere. One that you brought over a few years back, to try to make me feel festive.”

  She located it on one of her shelves, wiped the dust from the cover and popped it into the CD player. As Silent Night rang out, she dug around in the bags of decorations that Dale had bought.

  An hour later, when they flopped onto the sofa with a glass of the mulled wine that she’d run out to buy from the corner shop, she couldn’t help but smile. Not only had they decorated the tree, the fireplace had its own set of lights and a branch entwined with holly and ivy; the pictures on the walls and the piles of books were draped with tinsel; there were festive throws over t
he sofa and chairs, and Frankincense candles burning on the coffee table. For someone who hated Christmas, Lucie had a flat surprisingly full of festive cheer.

  “You know what, Dale?”

  Her friend turned to her and clinked his glass against hers.

  “This isn’t so bad after all. Kind of like… acclimatizing myself to Christmas.”

  “Ready to hit the most festive city in the world.”

  “Exactly.”

  And as she relaxed into the couch, sipping her warm spiced wine as the day’s tension slowly slipped away, she knew that this was a step she’d needed to take for a while. Twenty years was a long time to hate Christmas.

  Chapter 7

  “Hey! Go easy with the glitter!” Lucie chuckled as she gazed at the children gathered around the small table in front of her. Aged seven or eight, they were still small enough to sit in the specially sized plastic chairs that the school provided for its younger pupils, although some of them kept standing up as their card-making enthusiasm overwhelmed them. Lucie was also perched on one of the chairs, although she couldn’t help being aware that there was a slight overhang of bottom on either side.

  “Is my card okay?”

  Lucie met Jacob McGurl’s innocent green eyes. He held out his creation for her to check, and as he lifted it a mixture of purple and gold glitter drifted onto the old newspapers spread out on the table.

  “Let me see.” Lucie took the card and smiled. “It’s beautiful, Jacob.” He had drawn a picture of him standing next to a Christmas tree with his mother. They were smiling, their oversized two-dimensional heads as round as coins. They both wore wellies and glitter snow was falling from the rather sunny sky. In the top right corner of the card was another figure. It had wings and wore a long silver gown. Its one stick hand was outstretched, as if it were waving at the people below. Lucie’s throat tightened as she realized the significance of the figure at the top.