by Lucy Hepburn
“Masterful, huh?” Nina scanned the list before nodding slowly. “Okay, I gotta hand it to you two. This looks great. Thanks, guys—I guess nobody’s going to leave my party with a knife in their back tonight.”
Christy’s phone rang. Will jumped. He’d forgotten about calling her, having gotten so caught up with flexing his people skills on the seating plan.
“Excuse me,” he muttered and walked toward the hotel entrance to take the call, fervently hoping he hadn’t forgotten to do anything.
“Christy? How’s it going?”
“Well…” there was a silence, and then Will thought he heard a stifled sob.
“Christy, are you all right?”
“Will…” Now there was definitely a sob. Christy was crying. Will felt his heart twist inside his chest. “Everything’s falling apart,” she sobbed.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He tucked himself into an enclave outside the building so that he could give her his full attention. “Okay, I’ve found somewhere private. What’s up? Start from the beginning.”
With Christy’s phone pressed to his ear, Will listened as the whole story of her ruined day came tumbling out. Closing his eyes, he tried to take in as much as possible, all the while furiously trying to think of something to say that might be of help. But his wits were letting him down. He should have been far more on the ball! Maybe he could have taken some of the heat off her if he’d called earlier to offer more help. Whatever, that didn’t matter now; he’d failed her. And he’d do his best to make it up to her.
CHRISTY
2:15 p.m.
1:00 p.m. Race to collect Bouvier – one hour and fifteen minutes late.
2:00 p.m. Pick up Mrs. Ledger’s car – fifteen minutes late.
2:30 p.m. Pick up Mrs. H’s item from photoshoot – likely to be late.
“Will?” Damn! She had so wanted her voice to sound normal.
“Christy? How’s it going?”
It was all just too much. “Well…” Something in Will’s voice, alert and caring, had caused the floodgates to burst open, and she began to cry in a way that would make Niagara Falls jealous.
“Christy, are you all right?”
“Will…” she had to stop talking, take a deep breath, and try to get control of herself. She needed information from Will, and she needed to keep him thinking that she was coping.
But it was too hard. She closed her eyes and whispered through another stifled sob, “…everything’s falling apart.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Will replied, sounding as though he was walking. “Okay, I’ve found somewhere private. What’s up? Start from the beginning.”
“Why today?” Christy didn’t have a clue where the beginning was anymore. “Why did all the fates decide to gang up against me today? It’s not as if I’m a bad person, Will; I’m not!”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
“All I’ve been trying to do—all I ever try to do—is the best job I can, helping people run their lives. And if that means I’ve got to put my own needs to one side, then so be it. That’s what I do, Will.”
“It’s one of the side effects of running your own business,” Will put in.
“Too right it is!” Christy rummaged in her bag, drew out a tissue, blew her nose, and forged on. “But because of that, I’ve just lost the one thing I’ve been working so hard for all this time.”
“What’s that?” Will asked softly.
“My own place, back home in Brooklyn. I mean, it wasn’t much, just a little apartment with space to work from, but it was in the old neighborhood where I grew up, and it was my only chance to get in there, like, ever…” she broke off again, trying desperately to bring her sobbing under control, very aware that she was sounding nuttier than a Snickers bar the longer she went on.
“Take your time,” Will soothed.
“He said he’d wait, Will!”
“Who?”
“The guy! The apartment guy! And I did get there in time—”
“What apartment guy?”
“The guy! Mr. Dan Simpson! Huh, I’d have been better off if his first name had been Homer.”
“And what did he do?”
“He’d gone.” Just saying the words out loud made her sob louder.
“Gone?”
Christy was beginning to feel exasperated—Will was taking a long time to get up to speed. “Yes! I got there at 11:53. He left at 11:48.”
“He did what?”
Christy sniffed. “Apparently he was doing me such a huge favor,” she cried again, “and then…Clint’s…Fish…Itchycoo Park…” She didn’t have the ability to use whole sentences anymore. She hoped Will was getting all of this.
“Pardon?”
“Stupid train…Hic!” Oh, great! Now she had the hiccups. “Stupid phone…Hic! Stupid me…Hic! I just wanted to help everyone else…”
“Breathe, Christy,” Will said. “You’ll make yourself ill.” Christy could tell that Will was concerned. “Did he leave a message or anything?”
“Nope…Hic! Brigitte…and…Clint’s.”
“Are these friends of his? Do you have Brigitte and Clint’s number?”
Christy took a deep breath and blew her nose again. “You know what?”
“Tell me.”
The reality came crashing down like a badly fixed bookshelf as she realized the truth. “I messed up.” Christy understood that Brigitte was right. “I should have been there earlier. I mean, I keep my word! If I say I’m going to be there before noon, I’ll be there. I’m not the sort of person to let people down.”
“I can tell.”
“But I can’t blame Mr. Simpson for not knowing that. I should have been there first thing in the morning…not seven minutes before the deadline.”
“That’s a really tough deal. I’m sorry, Christy.”
Christy sniffed again. “Thanks. I’m sorry, too. Sorry for dumping on you like this. I just…I just…” she tailed off again, struggling to control her voice.
“Take your time,” Will urged again.
Will’s voice was so low Christy struggled to pick up on it properly. Meanwhile, Toni had put his hand on her shoulder, gently pulling a fresh tissue from the pack that was protruding from her bag and handing it to her. “Thanks, Toni,” she mumbled.
“Who’s that?” Will asked.
“Oh, that’s Toni.” Christy gave Toni a big smile, to let him know she wasn’t upset about him. “I picked him up at the airport when I was supposed to be picking up a different guy—it was my first dumb misunderstanding of the day. No, my second, if you count leaving my phone on the train. He hasn’t got anywhere to sleep tonight. And do you know what, Will? Toni is only one of a long list of things I have to deal with today, and everything is going so badly, it’s looking like none of them will get done.”
“Wa…wait. You’re with a guy right now?” Will’s voice had taken on an incredulous—and definitely disapproving—edge.
Christy didn’t have any more energy to care. “Yup. I held up a placard at the airport and got the wrong person…oh, it’s a long story. Poor guy’s just landed here and all he had was a single address of an agency and no money—”
“You’ve picked up a stranger? And he’s asking you for money?”
Christy had to agree that it didn’t sound good. But Will hadn’t met Toni. “No, he didn’t ask. But he had none, so what was I going to do?” She realized she’d been babbling on a bit. “But Will?”
“Yes?”
“If I were you, on the other end of the line, listening to all this stuff, I’d hang up on the dumb chick and throw her phone as far as I could, to preserve whatever sanity I’d have left.”
She thought she heard a little snort, as though Will was trying not to laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, Christy. But this guy—”
“Toni?”
“Yeah, is he…all right?”
“What?”
“This Toni…you know…are you all right?”
Christy nearly laughed, too, despite her misery. “What do you mean, all right?”
“Well, I mean, are you safe, Christy? With a stranger in New York? A stranger who’s been taking your money and asking to sleep with you?”
This time Christy allowed herself a few moments to think before answering, but Will spoke again before she could reply. This time he whispered, “If you can’t speak now, if you are in danger, then say the words, ‘I don’t like English breakfast tea, I much prefer Darjeeling.’”
Christy couldn’t help but laugh…and laugh and laugh! “Oh, Will, you are funny! Where did you get that from? Spy School 101?”
“I was just trying to help.” Christy could tell she’d embarrassed him.
“Thanks, Will, you have. You’ve sure cheered me up. But you’ve no need to worry about Toni. Let me tell you, Will Thompson, of all the things that have happened to me today, meeting Toni has been one of the good ones. The best a girl can get, you could say. All I need to do is find him somewhere to sleep tonight.”
There was a thick silence on the line.
“Will? Are you still there?” Was something up with him? Had she hurt his feelings by laughing at him?
“I’m still here.” His voice was tighter somehow.
“Good. Okay, so, to recap: I’ve lost the apartment of my dreams. And not only that, but I’m late to pick up this dog—”
“Oh yes, I meant to tell you, the lady phoned from the salon to find out where you were.”
“Oh dear!” Christy sighed. “I never get calls like that! Nobody needs to chase me down, ever! I run Doorman dot com, not Dumb broad dot com! I am always on top of things!” Christy’s heart went out to the poor dog. “Bouvier will be mincemeat and it’ll be all my fault!” She looked down at her scribbled list on her scrappy notebook. ”And I’ve also got to pick up Mrs. Ledger from her clinic.”
“In Manhattan?” Will asked.
“Yup. I need to get her car, too, and deliver her home.” Christy closed her eyes and shook her head. Where was that time machine when you needed it? “Let’s face it: this is impossible.”
“Hmm. No, come on, you should be able to manage all this.” Will, speaking more slowly, sounded thoughtful.
“You think so? Well, I admire your optimism, because that’s only half of it,” Christy insisted. “Don’t you remember, I’ve also got to collect something from a photoshoot for Ms. H and drop it off, and get back out to the airport, and fix Toni up—all while trying not to go into meltdown and without my phone.”
“Okay,” Will agreed, “you do appear to be in something of a situation.”
“Understatement of the century, but yes, ‘situation’ is probably a better way of describing it than the cuss words I’ve been thinking of.” Will chuckled. She was glad she’d made him laugh; perhaps now he’d forgive her the emotional bucket she’d just tipped out on his lap. But wait. “Oh…shoot…” Another thought struck her. “The rug!”
“The rug?” Will repeated.
“Yes! The rug! You know the dry cleaner’s?”
“I feel like I know it intimately,” Will answered.
“It wasn’t clothes, it was a rug, and I couldn’t lift it, so it’s still at the cleaner’s.”
“O-kay.”
“I’m sorry, Will, to load you up with all of this.”
“Don’t be sorry. But you’re right—”
“It is impossible, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not impossible.” She loved the way this guy never gave up. “But ‘situation’ was definitely the wrong word. Shall we upgrade it from ‘situation’ to predicament?”
Christy giggled. Will had such a reassuring voice, and he had calmed her down so much. All of a sudden, she was acutely aware of the fact that she had just broken down on the phone to a man she’d technically never even met.
But she hadn’t been able to help herself.
“May I make a suggestion?” Will asked.
“Yes, please. Does it involve magic wands?”
“Ditch Toni!”
“Excuse me?” She could hardly believe her ears. She glanced across at Toni. He had drifted away and was leaning against a wall, studying his scrap of paper. He looked young and vulnerable. Yet he still managed to attract admiring glances from passersby, some of which he acknowledged with that dazzling-yet-modest smile, which Christy knew would be his fortune one day.
“It sounds like you’ve already helped him out more then enough.”
“I can’t do that!” Christy was aghast. “He’s all on his own.”
She could hear him laugh softly. “I kind of guessed you’d say that. Okay, fair enough. Ditch the dog instead.”
“Bouvier?” Christy cried. “What, just abandon her at the salon?”
“Why not? Call the salon lady and explain. See if she’ll give her a bone or something.”
“Will, listen up. I am not abandoning Bouvier. None of this is her fault. Bouvier is a client. I have a responsibility toward her.”
“I guessed you’d say that, too,” Will said.
“So why suggest it?”
“Oh, just testing. You’re the second woman I’ve spoken to today who could teach me a thing or two about loyalty.”
Christy was flattered, but time was ticking by. “I’m in a spin, Will. A total, messed-up, crazy spin. All I’ve managed to do right today is drop off tickets for one client, and the day’s already halfway through.”
“Well, at least you’ve achieved something,” Will said. “You should be proud of that and store it up for—”
“Please, Will, I don’t think I’ve got room for motivational speeches. I went on that assertiveness course a long time ago.”
“Fair enough,” Will laughed. “Okay, let’s take the motivation as a given and listen up. I might have worked out how you can achieve all of the rest of the stuff.”
“You have?” Christy didn’t dare believe him.
“Yes, but you’ll need to let me in on the rest of your day.”
“Are you back in Manhattan?”
“Not yet. We’ll have to communicate with your fancy Batphone. Question is: can you trust me?”
“Yes—well, I—it depends what you’ve got in mind.” She knew as soon as the words were out that they must have sounded challenging. If they were in a movie or something, she would have replied, ‘yes, Will Thompson, I trust you with my very life,’ and everything would fade to a soft-focus, successful conclusion. Which was tempting. She was about to rephrase her answer when Will spoke again.
“Fair comment. You have no idea what I have in mind—you are risk-averse and naturally cautious…”
“Will,” she warned.
“Sorry. Can’t help myself sometimes. Okay, I’ve been checking out your schedule again while you were talking, and I think I’ve got a plan. Hear me out, okay?”
This time, she didn’t hesitate. “Talk,” she whispered.
“First, you need to hail a cab.”
Chapter Eleven
CHRISTY
2:30 p.m.
1:00 p.m. Pick up Bouvier from Nail salon – one hour and thirty minutes late.
Okay, so now was not a time to be thinking about finances. The spotless yellow cab, driven by a tiny man who looked to be about 150 years old, was, according to Will, the only way she was going to get anything done. Swiftly, still on the phone to Will, she pulled Toni into the backseat beside her and spoke through the grille.
“Nifty Naylz salon on Thirty-Fourth, please.”
“That East Thirty-Fourth or West Thirty-Fourth, sweetheart?”
“West!” Will barked into her ear. “Tell him it’s West, and then get him to go my way. There’s an obvious route, and then there’s my route. Trust me, Christy.”
Flustered, C
hristy leaned forward. “West, please. And, well, would you mind going the way I tell you?”
The driver shrugged. “Sweetheart, I’ve been driving cabs for more than fifty years.”
“Yes, but—” Christy was about to defend herself when she saw that the old man was smiling.
“And you know what I’ve learned? I’ve learned that if a customer wants to go the stupid route, then I go the stupid route. It’s all money on the meter to me; don’t matter if we’re driving around in circles.”
Christy was relieved he wasn’t putting up a fight. In fact, the way her day was going, his reasonableness came as quite a shock.
“Get him to take Fifth Avenue, not Third,” Will ordered in her ear.
Christy repeated the command to the driver, who just gave the merest shake of his head before gripping the steering wheel with his ancient, bony hands and indicating out into the traffic.
Christy pressed the phone close to her mouth. “Why that way?” she hissed.
“Not so many traffic lights, and it’s a straight crossing to the Avenue of the Americas. Okay?”
For the first time in what seemed like a long time, Christy felt her shoulders drop, and she relaxed a little. “Got it,” she smiled as the old driver took a look at her in the rearview mirror. Although she had been to Talia Popova’s Nifty Naylz salon many times before, picking up the pampered pooch, she’d never paid much attention where she went from this part of Manhattan, and it felt kind of nice to have the decision-making process taken out of her hands.
Luckily the traffic wasn’t as horrendous as it could have been, and they made smooth progress through the heart of Manhattan. Christy kept a hushed commentary of their whereabouts, and Will calmly and expertly told her where to ask the driver to go next.
She looked at Toni gazing out of the window at the grandeur of the city as it glided by. He had a dreamy, contented look on his face, evidently enjoying his tour of downtown New York City. Christy was going to try to apologize to him for the enforced detour, but that single look at his face told her there was no need. After all, his appointments weren’t until later in the week, so where else did he have to be today? Now and again, he’d wave at things he spotted or exclaim to himself in Italian when they passed a particularly beautiful building or historical landmark. He seemed happy and totally at ease—he was getting a personal tour of the sights! One less worry, for the moment, Christy decided.