2 Busy 4 Love

by Lucy Hepburn

  Will frowned. “We can? What’s in them, exactly?”

  “Oh, fun things! Soap, candy, bookmarks, and tiny poetry collections for the girls; magic tricks, playing cards, and little gadgets for the guys…it’ll be so much more interesting if they were mixed up.”

  “It would?” Will wasn’t convinced at all. It sounded a little…random.

  “Yes! Don’t you see? If everyone opens their gift at the party, they can spend the evening arranging switches with total strangers if they want, so that everyone eventually goes home with something they like—and they’ll make new friends in the process! Will Thompson, you are a genius—and that is a word I usually only use on a different Thompson male.”

  “Well…thanks,” Will faltered, deciding against adding that he felt mixing the gifts would be a recipe for disaster. But he was bemused. You can’t involve human beings in lucky dips and expect successful outcomes. He’d been in business long enough to know that.

  But then, he reasoned, it wasn’t his party. He wasn’t even going to be here tonight, so he shouldn’t care whether the scheme worked or not. He’d be miles away, back in Manhattan.

  “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll evict the plant from the pot for you.”

  Christy’s phone began to ring as he walked across the dance floor toward the unsuspecting Swiss cheese plant.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh!” The gravelly female voice on the other end of the line sounded surprised. “Christy?”

  “May I take a message for her?” Will asked. “I’m a…her assistant. How may I be of service?”

  “Well…” the woman, with her heavily accented English, sounded doubtful. “Okay. Listen, this is Ms. Popova at Nifty Naylz.” She emphasised the Ms. so that it sounded like she was making a point. Tell Christy that if she isn’t here to collect Bouvier in the next thirty minutes, the dog’s out on the street. You got that?”

  Chapter Ten

  CHRISTY

  2:00 p.m.

  Collect Mrs. Dallaglio’s dry cleaning – need help to carry it.

  Find Mr. Simpson at Clint’s – come back at 6:30 p.m.

  1:00 p.m. Pick up Bouvier from nail salon – one hour late.

  Christy was back on the sidewalk outside Clint’s, leaning against the window, shading her eyes from the dazzling sun, cursing her headache, and wondering what on earth to do next.

  In a few moments, I will wake up and realize that this has been one of those nightmares where you keep trying to get someplace but never do. Then I will wake up, yawn, and smile, and everything will be normal because I will have my phone back.

  It was all just too hard! She felt as though she was going backward rather than forward. To think she’d gotten up this morning thinking it was going to be an ordinary, busy day working. But now everything had gone wrong.

  All around her, New Yorkers strode and strutted, oblivious to the girl by the restaurant window who was descending into an advanced state of meltdown. Christy eyed them all crossly before her gaze fell on a figure way off down the street that was strangely familiar.

  “Toni?”

  It was! Gorgeous in his shirt and shades, Toni, looking over the heads of the crowds, spotted her and waved delightedly before breaking into a run.

  Christy launched herself on him and hugged him tightly, surprising herself at how pleased she was to run into him. “What’s going on? Oh, it’s so nice to see you again!” she cried.

  “Christy!” Toni beamed.

  But then she frowned, drew back, and regarded him closely. Something had to be up. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “What did the agency say to you? Did they take you on?”

  Toni shrugged. He was upset, Christy could tell.

  He pulled a sheet of paper from his jeans pocket and handed it to her. “Busy,” he said dejectedly. “Keep on running. Don’t stop moving. Don’t stop till you get enough.”

  Toni hardly spoke any English at all. All he knew were slogans he’d heard in his life in the media and the occasional line from a song. This guy was even more alone than she’d thought. He barely spoke any English apart from what he’d learned in a movie theater.

  Christy studied the piece of paper, determined more than ever to help. It contained the names and addresses of four other Manhattan modeling agencies, along with scrawled appointment times, which seemed to be called ‘go-sees,’ for later on in the week.

  “That’s no good,” Christy stormed. “What do they think you’re going to do now? Where will you go? Where will you sleep?”

  He was staring blankly into the middle distance.

  “They didn’t organize accommodation for you, did they?”

  She didn’t know if he understood or not. He seemed to be hardly even listening, just gazing around at his new city with a kind of innocent incomprehension. Before, his whole demeanor had been that of a young man in thrall to the excitement and possibilities the city had to offer, but now it was as if he had just opened his eyes to its terrifying unknowns.

  Christy wanted to stamp her feet in frustration. “This is…preposterous!” she spluttered. “In fact, it is so preposterous that I have just used the word preposterous for the very first time ever; that’s how preposterous your situation is, Toni!”

  He nodded and regarded her sadly. “Pots-pots-ter-ous. Yes, I see. I go now. Goodbye, beautiful Christy.” He kissed her cheek and made as though to walk away.

  She caught his arm. “No, Toni, don’t even think about it. You stay right where you are.” She pointed to herself, then to Toni, then at the ground between them. “Everything will be okay, okay?” She gave a thumbs-up. “I will make sure you make all of these appointments this week, okay?”

  “O-kay,” Toni said hesitantly.

  Christy pointed to the piece of paper and gave another thumbs-up. “And I will find you somewhere to sleep tonight.” She pointed to herself, then to him, and then did a sleeping mime, realizing a little too late how suggestive it must have looked and feeling her cheeks color. “Well, I mean—”

  Toni smiled. “Oh, Christy, you are the best a man can get.”

  “Umm, Toni, let me just explain…” How would she explain?

  “Best friend a man can get,” he said gently, putting his arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. He understood.

  “Your English is improving already.” Christy smiled. “And you know something else, Toni? I am having such a bad day. I think I could use your help. Let’s go.”

  She took a deep breath and struck off down the sidewalk in the direction of the Nifty Naylz pet salon. But then she stopped dead. Toni, a pace behind, almost clattered into her.

  She was doing this in the wrong order. There had to be an easier way—she just couldn’t think of it. Whipping out her tattered notebook, she scanned her list. The ripple of panic inside of her was in danger of turning into a tidal wave if she didn’t get a handle on things, like, right now. She couldn’t worry Toni and let him see that she wasn’t in control anymore; she simply had to fix this so that everything could be fitted in.

  But right now, it just seemed far too hard. Her breathing had grown shallower and more panicked; she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. No matter how she stared at the words on this page, she couldn’t work out a good way to do this. And then, without warning and to her horror, the words blurred as tears filled her eyes and she let out a little sob…which was followed by another—she was about to cry. No! No! She wouldn’t let that happen!

  Toni, realizing that she was in a state, laid a hand on her shoulder. Swiftly she whipped around so that she had her back to him, desperately trying to bring her emotions back under control.

  “I…I’m fine, Toni. Don’t worry.” She sniffed, took some deep breaths, and turned around, knowing she was smiling far too broadly to convince anyone.

  “Christy…” Toni looked as though he was about to pull
her into a hug. But she took a decisive step away from him, holding her hand up in a ‘stop’ gesture.

  “It’s cool, Toni, I’m fine, thank you.” She knew that if she allowed herself to be hugged by a friend, she’d give in to a major meltdown. And that wouldn’t help anyone.

  It was all cool. It had to be; there were no alternatives. “Back to work.”

  She felt for Roger’s phone and, with trembling fingers that she hoped were the last remaining outward signs of her distress, dialed Will. At least he was reliable in one respect: when she called, he picked up. She had his legal documents, after all.

  WILL

  1:45 p.m.

  Will put Christy’s phone back in his pocket after reading the text and swiftly hoisted the Swiss Cheese plant out of its pot. It was lighter than he’d expected; the soil was bone dry and shrunken away from the edges, so the parched plant lifted out easily. Then, straightening up, he started walking outside to call Christy and give her the message about Bouvier. They hadn’t spoken for almost fifteen minutes, since he’d given her another man’s phone number and she’d basically hung up on him. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to speak to her again. But as he made to leave, he felt a sharp tap between his shoulder blades.

  “Might I ask what you are planning to do with that, sir?”

  He spun around to see a tall, stubbly man of around thirty, with ginger hair and a piercingly direct gaze, waiting for an answer. The rectangular badge on his chest read: Restaurant Manager.

  “Um, this looks bad,” Will muttered, gesturing toward the plant, “but you see, um, my friend Nina—”

  “Oh—you’re a friend of Nina’s? Is she here?” The manager’s eyes lit up, the plant forgotten.

  “Shorey!” Nina called out from the other end of the dance floor. “Sorry, hon, I was just sorting some stuff out. It’s so good to see you, old pal.”

  Sidestepping Will, the man called Shorey threw his arms out and made a beckoning motion with his fingertips. “Nina! You’re looking great. Must be a family trait. And that even rhymes!”

  They rushed toward each other, meeting in a huge hug in the center of the dance floor. Will watched in amusement as they drew apart and looked at one another.

  “Yes, indeedy, stunning as ever,” Shorey said, looking Nina up and down.

  “Oh, you’re not so bad yourself,” Nina smiled back. “You’ve filled out a little over the past couple of years—it suits you.”

  “Well,” Shorey brushed the compliment away, looking bashful. “Gotta go one way or another as you get older, don’t you? I just try to hold onto that line in the sand.”

  “I think you’re doing better than that,” Nina persisted. “Just wait till you-know-who gets a look at you! When were you guys last in touch?”

  Will saw Shorey blush. What on earth was going on here?

  “Well, um, we have spoken, but it was…um…listen, enough about me—this is your night! And I’ve been hoping to catch you. Would you care to explain yourself?”

  “Explain myself?” Nina echoed.

  Shorey’s eyebrows had shot up, and he was regarding her expectantly. “Oh, yes, that’s right, missy. Come on, now, I’ve known you for a long time—don’t tell me you didn’t do at least some of it on purpose. You used to enjoy those little pranks at school, as I recall.”

  “Some of what, Shorey? What the heck are you talking about?”

  “The seating plan, of course.”

  Nina stuck her lower lip out. Suddenly she looked worried. “What’s up with it? Don’t tell me you’ve lost it. I spent a lot of time on that plan, and I didn’t make a copy.”

  “No, I haven’t lost it.” Shorey slapped his forehead. “You seriously don’t know what you’ve done? Tell me you’re kidding. Nina Davies, I think all that gallivanting around the world has dulled your brain.”

  “Stop it! I need to know what’s wrong with my seating plan. Tell me, before I…oh, I don’t know, before I give you an Italian burn—it’s like a Chinese burn, only far, far worse.”

  Shorey turned and called out to a large, elderly waitress who was busily folding serviettes into dove shapes at the top table. “Consuela! Would you come over here with the seating plan, please?”

  “Now?” Consuela clearly did not want to be distracted from her folding duties.

  “If you would be so very kind,” Shorey sighed.

  Picking up a leather-bound clipboard, Consuela bustled over and handed it to Shorey. He thanked her and looked down at it in disgust.

  “Okay, where to begin?”

  Nina, looking over his shoulder, seemed mystified.

  Shorey stabbed his pen at the top of the page. “What were you thinking, putting Melanie next to Malcolm after they divorced last year? You hoping for reconciliation?”

  Nina’s hands flew to her face. “Melanie and Malcolm got divorced? I didn’t know.”

  “And—hello—sitting Craig between Noreen and Debbie when he’s sleeping with both of them?”

  “He isn’t!”

  “The whole town knows—apart from Noreen and Debbie, that is. You want to turn your party into the Jerry Springer Show?”

  Will was fascinated. He crossed the floor and stood beside them, craning to see the list.

  Shorey was on a roll. “Marjorie Daniels sharing a table with Joanie Kitching? Nina, these two can barely even share a county.”

  Nina was looking shamefaced. “Um, oops?”

  “Oops?” Shorey echoed, placing his free hand on her shoulder. “A guest list like this goes way beyond oops, let me tell you. It’s something of a social apocalypse. It’s Oops-zilla.”

  “Oh no,” Nina sighed. “I’m horrible at these things.”

  “Don’t feel bad about it, Nina,” said Will, putting a caring hand on her shoulder. “People management is not an easy thing. That’s why they have courses in, well, people management.”

  “A good point badly made, my plant thieving friend,” said Shorey with a smile.

  “Thank you, erm…?” replied Will.

  “Oh, where are my manners?” said Nina, quickly remembering herself. “Will, this is Shorey—the nicest guy in New Brunswick. Oh, and he runs the restaurant side of the hotel, too. Shorey, this is Will, my boss’s son. And Will works in—Oh!”

  “What?” said Shorey and Will together.

  “Why don’t you help out, Will? You’re a people manager, aren’t you?”

  “Hmm…”

  “So stop complaining and get helping. Please.” She passed him a pad and paper in a way that brooked no argument. “Shorey, can fill you in and Will, you can do the rest.”

  “I don’t know…” What was he talking about? Of course he could help. This was his thing. Besides, from the determination on Nina’s face, it didn’t look like he had a choice. “Okay, I’m in.”

  “Good man!” said Shorey as he shook Will’s hand. “We’ll fix this little minefield for you, Nina.”

  “Thanks, guys, you’ve saved my life.”

  “So,” Shorey said, “you reckon you’re up to the challenge, Will? I don’t want any fistfights in my restaurant tonight.”

  “Not a problem,” Will replied, glancing down the names. “It’s all about profiling. Could you spare a few minutes to give me a briefing, Shorey?”

  “Profiling?” Shorey and Nina were looking at him with suspicion.

  “Pretty much. It won’t take long to bust out a plan. You know most of the guests, right?”

  “Comes with the territory,” Shorey replied. “And a lifetime of being involved with this one’s family.” He gave Nina a playful pinch on the arm.

  “What about me, though?” Nina looked a little put out. “Don’t I get a say?”

  “You tried, you failed,” Shorey grinned. “Best stay out of it.”

  Will turned toward her just as she was about to react to Shorey’s teasing. “Say, Nina. Why don’t you sort out the lucky dip and check the kitchen and the
sound systems? We’ll be done in no time, and Shorey and I will run through the seating plan with you once we’re finished.”

  Will headed eagerly over to a corner table, Shorey following with the clipboard. Nina blew them both a kiss as she scurried off to attend to another party-planning emergency. Will relished situations like these. It was like human chess, working out solutions to best suit everybody’s needs and personality types. Shorey could steer him through the major pitfalls, and the rest would be easy, mixing the guests to ensure an age/gender balance throughout the room.

  Sitting beside him, Shorey soon began to open up, taking to his role of gossip-in-chief like a duck to water. Within thirty minutes, Will felt he knew half the town’s secrets, including some more lurid details that Shorey could quite easily have kept to himself. The guy was clearly having the time of his life and was not to be diverted from giving Will chapter and verse on the whole of New Brunswick’s dirty linen.

  “Are we done?” Will said eventually, scrolling down the list with a pen.

  “Well, almost.” Shorey twisted his hands, suddenly coy.

  “Almost?”

  Shorey pointed to a name on the list. “See her?”

  Will looked at the clipboard. Shorey was pointing to the top table. “Chief bridesmaid?”

  The blush that spread right across Shorey’s face told Will everything he needed to know.

  Will furrowed his brow and tapped the pen to his teeth, pretending to think hard. “Say, Shorey, didn’t you say that the groom might not have a best man at the party?”

  A gleeful expression crossed Shorey’s face. “Well, now that you remind me, I did say that, Will, yes,”

  “Okay, well, do you think it might work to put you at the top table, just to balance out the numbers? You seem to be on good enough terms with the bride for it to be acceptable.”

  “Why, I may just not mind that one little bit,” Shorey agreed, a huge grin splitting his face. “Thank you, Will.”

  Without another word, Will wrote ‘Shorey’ beside ‘Chief Bridesmaid,’ and the job was complete, just as Nina came to check on them.

  “All set.” Shorey leapt to his feet. “Your friend here has done a masterful job.”