2 Busy 4 Love

by Lucy Hepburn

  “Welcome home, ma’am,” he smiled.

  “I’ll call in the morning,” Christy giggled, “make sure you’re okay.”

  “Sure,” Mrs. Ledger called back, “you can swing by and collect Toni then, too, if you want!”

  “No, on second thoughts, I’m coming up too—I need to make sure Toni gets out in one piece!”

  Oh, it had been tempting to let Toni complete the job of returning Mrs. Ledger safely to her apartment. It would have bought precious extra minutes. Christy could have parked the car in the underground car park and heaved the rug and the tiara in its cumbersome box back up to the lobby, ready for Toni’s reappearance. But it wouldn’t have been fair. Toni wasn’t her assistant. He was a new, admittedly trusted friend. Getting Mrs. Ledger safely home wasn’t his job. It was hers, and given the detour she’d already put her client through, the very least she could do was to make sure the old lady was comfortably settled.

  Silvia, though, had other ideas. Mrs. Ledger’s maid was a formidable force. Even smaller than Mrs. Ledger, it was clear as soon as she rushed to the door who was the boss in their relationship.

  “You late! You okay?” She fussed and she bustled, taking Mrs. Ledger’s arm and hurrying her inside the warm, antique-filled interior of the apartment. “You cold? You sore? I get tea, you sit.” Her grey uniform sat snugly around her ample hips as she led Mrs. Ledger away toward the drawing room. Toni and Christy, standing helplessly in the doorway, watched them go.

  “Toni, call me!” Mrs. Ledger shouted out over her shoulder. “Let’s go dancing sometime!”

  “Dancing? Aha, dancing is the real thing, Lucretia!”

  Christy giggled as she watched him sway his hips in true Latin-lover style. Now if only Mrs. Ledger had been able to see that!

  “Bye, Christy, dear, and thank you!”

  Silvia bustled back toward them and, with terrifying efficiency, took each of their arms, led them back out toward the lift, and closed the door.

  Christy turned to Toni. “Thank you so much,” she breathed as the lift brought them back down to the ground floor. “You did a wonderful thing for me there. And for her—she really liked you!”

  Toni waved his hands. “Mrs. Ledger—how sweet it is,” he said with a smile.

  “Okay, now I need to get the car parked in the basement, and we’re going to have to get the rug to the cleaner’s and a priceless tiara back to a penthouse apartment downtown in, like, the next ten minutes—let’s go!”

  Christy was still miming everything she said to Toni, though less so than at first. Whether he was picking up more and more English as his ear became attuned to the language or whether he was just going with the flow in an easygoing, European manner that was way beyond Christy’s comprehension, she didn’t know. But one thing she did know—today, she would have been completely lost without him.

  It was a tricky maneuver to deftly park the car in the tiny space allocated for it beneath the apartment block. Christy and Toni then spent an uncomfortable few minutes contorting themselves in the backseat, picking off as many of Bouvier’s hairs as they could see. And then, with a final squirt of her Chanel perfume into the car’s interior, they heaved the rug out of the back of the car, picked up the tiara box and Toni’s small backpack, and began the laborious process of carrying everything the eight blocks to the dry cleaner’s. Christy knew that so long as Ms. H was still shopping, she might just have time to drop off the rug before delivering the tiara.

  Just as they reached daylight, her phone heralded the arrival of a text.

  “Wait, please!”

  They ground to a halt, lowered the rug, and she fished in her bag to read it.

  It took a moment for Will’s message to sink in. Christy felt as though she was going to be sick. Letting the phone drop back into her bag, she sank against the wall of the apartment building and closed her eyes.

  Ms. H lving Gucci. Bgt 8 purses n 2 prs boots! On way home.

  She was going to need wings.

  WILL

  4:45 p.m.

  It was nice, sitting on the steps of the Brunswick Park Hotel in his old hometown, watching the world pass by, checking Twitter for any new tweets from Ms. H, and passing them on. Really, he was just waiting for Christy’s next call. His heart went out to her, yet at the same time, he was strangely enjoying every minute of his involvement in her day.

  It must be fate, he thought to himself. Usually his days were so full of meetings and business agendas that there’d be no way he would have had the time to devote to Christy. Huh, strange to think that his dad may actually have done him a good turn, simply by being an obstinate, thick-headed idiot!

  “You waiting for that girl to call again?”

  Shorey had approached without him realizing. Will had been gazing at Christy’s phone, waiting to pounce the moment she rang or the moment Ms. H tweeted anything that he could pass on.

  He smiled and nodded.

  Shorey grinned and sat down beside him. “She must be quite something.”

  Will glanced at his companion. “Yeah, I really think she is,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. It was like he’d only just admitted it to himself. Sure, she was nice…but no, wait, she was more than nice. There was something quite special about Miss Christy Davies.

  Shorey was gazing into the distance, across the traffic and over the rooftops, where the late afternoon sunshine was turning the small, scudding clouds yellow and pink. “I can identify with that,” he said in a soft voice.

  Will looked at him, waiting for him to say more.

  He jerked his head back indoors. “Nina’s sister,” he said quietly. “Have you met her?”

  Will shook his head. “I only found out she’s got a sister today,” he said, recalling Nina’s throwaway remark in the car about fixing the two of them up.

  “I call her Shrimp. She’s a tiny little thing…though she used to complain that a guy who cooks fish shouldn’t name his girlfriend after something on the menu.”

  “You and Nina’s sister used to date?” Will asked absentmindedly, texting more of Ms. H’s movements to Christy as he spoke.

  Shorey nodded. “Four years we were together. But she broke up with me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Shorey shrugged. “Thanks. I probably should be over it, but just lately—oh, I don’t know. It all happened a couple of years ago. I was pretty cut up about it for a long time. Took me a while to accept the breakup, but I suppose I eventually came to understand that things hadn’t been right for quite a long time.”

  “That’s a brave admission,” Will said, feeling genuine sympathy for his new friend.

  “I leaned on her pretty heavily,” Shorey continued. “And I wouldn’t take her hints, never saw the signs that she was tired of being the instigator all the time—she kept telling me to find my own life, and I never really did. I was so happy just hanging out with her, you know? It must have driven her nuts.”

  Will looked around. “Seems to me you’ve done pretty well for yourself.”

  Shorey smiled. “Yeah, well, I have now, I guess. Restaurant management was what my dad did—he ran this place before me, but I only found the guts to take over and run it myself around a year and a half ago. Dad wanted out, Shrimp was long gone, and I finally squared up to myself and realized life wasn’t going to hand me anything on a plate.”

  “Must have been hard,” Will offered.

  “It was. But I’d never have taken the step at all without having had her in my life. I’d have stayed in the background, just marking time. And you know what, Will?”

  “What?” he asked, tapping away another text in response to another tweet.

  “I’ve realized something. It’s taken a long time, but I want her back. She’s the one for me, I truly believe that.”

  “Yeah?”

  Shorey nodded. “And now I’m worthy of her.” His eyes were shining with emotion.

  “Well, good
luck with that,” Will said sincerely. Shorey seemed so genuine, and with his low-key, engaging personality, he was perfectly suited for his role as a restaurant manager. He realized he was psychologically profiling his new friend without intending to.

  “Tonight, Will. At Nina’s party. When everyone’s high on champagne and love and family, I’m going to tell the Shrimp that I’ve changed, and that I want her back in my life. You don’t get over someone like that, Will. I’ve tried for two years. A force to be reckoned with. A once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

  “Then go get her,” Will smiled, offering his hand. Shorey shook it, his face set in an expression of excited determination.

  “You boys talking about me?” Nina trilled as she skipped down the steps to join them.

  “Sure!” Shorey bluffed.

  “Not this time,” Will said at the same moment.

  They looked at one another.

  “Well, more or less,” Shorey explained, drawing Nina close as she sat between them. “I was just telling Will that I’m hoping to ask your little sister to come back to me tonight, Nina. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Nina’s eyes lit up. “You are? Oh, Shorey, that’s great! That girl’s been on her own for far too long…oh, but that’s wonderful!” Will leaned away respectfully as Shorey and Nina shared a gleeful hug. “In fact,” she gushed as she pulled away, “I’m going to call her up right this minute and tell her that it’s high time you and her made up! Ooh, that’s just so great—this is turning into the perfect day!”

  “Don’t you dare call her!” Shorey looked horrified.

  “Don’t worry—I won’t screw everything up for you, discretion’s practically my middle name!”

  “Thought your middle name was Wanda?”

  But she wasn’t listening. Leaping to her feet, Nina pulled out her phone and began skipping away down the steps. Will watched her go, just as Christy’s phone began to ring, jolting him back to his own task at hand. He’d lost track of things with Christy while Shorey had been pouring out his heart to him—what if he’d missed something vital? Well, he wouldn’t let that happen again—no more distractions. Heaving himself to his feet, he reached into his pocket for Christy’s phone and put it to his ear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  CHRISTY

  4:45 p.m.

  Drop off Ms. H’s item with Ms. H.

  Clean Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug.

  It was like a scene from a movie. A rom-com with slapstick undertones. A flustered girl in heels, accompanied by a hot Italian supermodel, rushing through the New York streets carrying a rolled-up rug between them. Christy, further encumbered by the domed velvet box holding possibly a million dollars’ worth of antique diamond tiara, was in front, Toni behind. They must have resembled an abstract pantomime horse, Christy thought as she fought her way through the crowds. The tiara box was just too big to fit in her purse, so she had to sling the bag across her shoulders, causing the strap to bounce uncomfortably against her chest. The rug seemed to get heavier with each passing minute and her arm ached from the pressure of clutching the tiara box so close to herself.

  At least I don’t have Bouvier to cope with as well, she thought, though the realization brought little comfort. The sheer size of the rug meant there was no way a taxi would have agreed to take them, and Christy wasn’t prepared to wait to see if she could scout around for a super-sized one. They’d just have to run for it. There wasn’t a minute to lose, not anymore.

  They were certainly attracting attention. New Yorkers, used to seeing all forms of human life, stared openly at them as they made their clumsy progress. Women’s eyes soon moved from Christy and the rug onto Toni, muscles rippling beneath his beautiful olive skin as he tried to bear the brunt of the rug’s considerable weight. And petite Christy, forging their path, elicited looks of disbelief and sympathy as she struggled not only to keep going, but also to keep going in the right direction.

  “Oh, Toni, stop here!” Her text had bleeped, and she couldn’t afford to ignore it. It had to be from Will. Clumsily, they lowered the rug to the ground and Christy delved in her bag for the phone.

  So many sexy shoes on 8th Street. So little time to shop…O all right. Mayb just 1 more pair :)

  “Yippee!” Christy did a little dance of joy as she read Ms. H’s latest tweet. “She’s shopping again—in the next street! Not heading home yet!”

  Mischievously she tapped out a reply: That you or Ms. H talking, huh Will??!! :)

  Toni, seeing her excitement, offered her a raised palm and they shared a hefty high five.

  “Ow!” Christy yelped. The force of his hand took her by surprise.

  “Oh, Christy!” Toni, mortified by his own strength, grabbed her hand and rubbed it vigorously. “So sorry! So sorry! I no good! I not worth it!”

  “It’s fine!” Christy forced a giggle. “I’m just a wuss! Now, come on. Ms. H is shopping on the next block, so we can get rid of this rug and then deal with her tiara…” she tailed off, knowing Toni wasn’t understanding much of what was going on. He was gazing all around, anywhere but at her, as though suddenly wishing he could take off and run down the street, as far away from her and her crazy predicament as possible.

  Remembering that this had to be hard for him, too, Christy cautiously raised her hand and touched his face, forcing him to look at her.

  “Listen, Toni, thank you for being here, okay? Thank you. I know this is a weird day for you, but you are a truly lovely person.”

  Toni smiled back, looking relieved. Then he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Prego Christy,” he whispered.

  They looked at one another for a minute. Friends. Christy knew as she looked into his beautiful eyes that she and Toni would never be anything more than that, but, far better, that today she had made a new friend for life. And somehow she felt pretty sure he thought the same way.

  “Come on,” she said before any embarrassment had a chance to creep in between them, “Let’s get rid of this thing—want to try running?” She mimed a running motion.

  “Just do it,” Toni agreed, striking a comical muscleman pose and glancing sideways at her with a cheeky grin.

  They picked up the rug and carefully broke into a jog, taking a series of awkward paces before eventually falling into rhythm. Christy’s feet were aching, and she had to be careful with each step not to go over on her ankle. Her businesslike heels were made for walking—preferably not too far at any one time—not jogging through busy city streets with a heavy rug to deal with as well.

  It was far more difficult to forge a path through the crowds at a run. Decisions had to be faster, reactions swifter—and it wasn’t all successful. “Excuse me please! Oops! Sorry! Thank you! Excuse us!” They had to wriggle and apologize their way past ever-increasing hordes of people spilling out of their offices after work. Some were more accommodating than others—one man, refusing to budge, actually barged toward them as they passed, cannoning into Toni and making him reel sideways. Christy, glaring furiously over her shoulder, was convinced it was deliberate, though Toni remained admirably calm. He just kept following her, matching his pace to hers as best he could.

  But after a block or two, the surge of pedestrians thinned out and they hit their stride. Now the dry cleaner’s was within reach and, all around, people seemed to be scattering to make way for them. They were on a wider sidewalk in a quieter part of the neighborhood, with more space to duck and dive in between everyone else.

  Nearly there, Christy panted to herself. Just keep going, girl, you can do this. Just up ahead, a bulky youth was directly in their path. He wore a baseball cap, enormous jeans barely clinging to his butt, and a ripped black hoodie. Caught in his own world, he seemed to be doing some kind of dance, winding and weaving to a mystery beat, oblivious, it seemed, to the entire outside world.

  “Excuse us!” Christy trilled. “Can we get by, please?”

  Still he didn’t move. And Christy found she was unable to break s
tride in time, and she crashed right into him, sending him spinning off toward the curb. He staggered and almost fell, despite his huge stature compared with Christy’s tiny frame, narrowly avoiding toppling into the traffic. His baseball cap flew from his head and landed at Christy’s feet.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “What the?—”

  “Oh!” It was only at this moment that Christy saw that he had been plugged in to his headphones—he wouldn’t have heard her calling out for him to move. She was horrified at herself. “I am so sorry!” she flustered. “Are you okay?”

  “You better watch where you’re going, woman!” he stormed, leaping to his feet and strutting back over to where she stood. He stopped inches from her, puffing out his chest and scowling down into her face, his own contorted by fury and dented pride.

  “It…it was an accident…I couldn’t stop…” she stammered, suddenly filled with fear. Suppose he had a knife?

  “Oh, yeah? Well, you shoulda stopped!” he shot back.

  Toni had eased the rug out of Christy’s grip and was quickly placing it out of danger against a wall. Christy, meanwhile, trying and failing to remember any non-confrontational phrases from various courses she’d been on, was acutely aware that she was squaring up to an angry six-foot-plus thug while holding a priceless diamond tiara under her arm. She had never felt so vulnerable in her life. Passersby caught sight of the scene and averted their eyes in one swift movement. It would have been comical if it wasn’t so terrifying. The whole city was leaving her to it.

  “I…what can I say? I’m sorry—er—sir. Are you hurt?”

  “Am I hurt?” he thundered. “I am dis-re-spected! Nobody dis-re-spects me, woman!”

  “Aiie!” Toni, having made the rug safe, marched over to stand by her side. A match for the thug in height, he was only half his width. Although Christy was grateful for the gesture of support, she instinctively knew that the thug would feel threatened by being so suddenly outnumbered. And Christy strongly suspected that Toni, for all his loyalty, was no street fighter.