2 Busy 4 Love

by Lucy Hepburn

  “Only for you, Nina, only for you,” Will’s father said in a low voice, shaking his head. “You just snap your fingers, and we’ll…what was it you wanted us to do?”

  Will felt a pang of irritation at their intimacy.

  Nina gave him an amused grin and pressed her phone to her ear. “I’m telling you, if she doesn’t pick up this time…”

  “She wouldn’t dare not pick up,” Carl Thompson pointed out.

  “Shh, it’s ringing!”

  Will was looking at a picture on the wall. It was a hunting scene, English, probably. It reminded him of the set of place mats that used to sit permanently on the dining room table at his grandfather’s house. Six of them, each one depicting men dressed in bright red coats, galloping on livid-looking horses, with a large pack of dogs seemingly right underneath their flailing hooves. The picture he was looking at was similar—the same artist, maybe? Famous, probably copied all over the world—

  Just then, Christy’s phone began to ring in his pocket. He retrieved it and glanced at the screen, hoping it was Christy. He didn’t have the mental strength to sweet-talk any more of her clients or business contacts.

  But it wasn’t. The flashing screen proclaimed a single word.

  ‘Sis.’

  He stood and hesitated for a fraction of a second. Maybe he should move away from his father; he didn’t want to give him another opportunity to have fun at his expense.

  But it wasn’t Christy. It was ‘Sis.’ There was nothing to be ashamed of.

  He picked up.

  There was a buzz of interference on the line.

  As though the other phone was too close.

  “Christy’s phone…um, Will sp…”

  He never got to finish. One look at Nina, standing open-mouthed, her phone still pressed to her ear, told him everything he needed to know.

  Chapter Nineteen

  CHRISTY

  5:45 p.m.

  12:30 p.m. Clean Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug – Over five hours late…but who’s counting?

  “Hour and a half, no more, no less. Is big job, cost big money, but we do for you no problem.”

  The Chinese lady who stood behind the dry cleaning counter wasn’t the sort Christy would normally argue with. But a whole hour and a half!

  “I’m sorry,” Christy pleaded, “but is there any chance you could do it more quickly than that? It’s kind of an emergency.”

  “Hour and a half,” the woman repeated firmly. “Big job, two people, big money. Is as fast as we go. You want faster? You go to my brother’s place six blocks down. He maybe try.”

  “Six blocks?” Her aching arms gave her the answer she needed. “Okay, we’ll leave it with you and come back after seven. Thank you.”

  Spun back out onto the street, Christy’s relief at no longer having to haul the heavy rug around was tempered by a growing, numbing certainty that there were not enough hours left in the day to achieve everything she was supposed to. She felt weak and dizzy.

  Toni, walking steadfastly and uncomplainingly by her side, noticed the change.

  “Okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

  She forced a smile. “I really don’t know anymore.”

  He laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder as another text came in from Will:

  Continue two blocks east then take a right at Oliver’s Motorcycle Sales at the intersection.

  The jobs she had to do today had become so muddled in her head that she didn’t even know where she was headed to next. Numbly she complied, she and Toni walking on in silence. Will would know where she was supposed to be.

  The only thing she did remember was her disastrous visit to Mr. Simpson’s apartment block, which seemed to have taken place a lifetime ago. And later she had to get back to Clint’s restaurant and face the miserable prospect of having to plead and grovel to a man whose standards were such that he’d decided, after saying he’d wait until noon for her, to leave early because she hadn’t dropped everything and shown up first thing in the morning.

  And there was no guarantee that he’d relent and let her have the apartment, whatever she did.

  Or even if he’d show up at the restaurant at all.

  They stopped outside the motorcycle showroom, which had a fabulous, shiny Italian racing bike, illuminated on a revolving stand in the window. Toni was mesmerized.

  “Ducati quattro otto quattro,” he breathed, saying the numbers in Italian. “Il nostro passato ha un grande futuro.”

  “Huh?” Christy asked then texted Will back: At motorcycle showroom, which way now?

  Which was swiftly followed by Will’s reply:

  6 doors down.

  Dragging the reluctant Toni away from the gleaming machine, they trudged on. Christy couldn’t think where Will was sending them. Surely this street wasn’t on her schedule?

  Not that the schedule meant anything anymore. How on earth was she going to make it out to the airport as well? Although, given the lack of communication from her sister, she didn’t even know if she was meant to be heading out that way or not. Inwardly she cursed Annie. All it would have taken was one phone call to let her know what was happening, but no: complete silence from the world’s most annoying big sister. Annie knew how stressed Christy got, how important it was to have everything planned right down to the last minute—was she going to ring up now and expect her to drop everything and head on out to Newark?

  She sighed. But if Annie did, and she probably would, Christy would drop everything, that was the thing. But why did Annie always take advantage of that? It wasn’t fair! And it had to be deliberate—huh, maybe she was trying to teach her a lesson about being so uptight? Well, somebody had to be uptight in the family, otherwise nothing got done!

  She counted the doors. “Four…five…six…huh?” Alluring smells were wafting from the door of the shop. For a second Christy was tempted to dive right in, but first she called Will.

  “Could you please explain yourself?” she said without preamble. “Why am I at a bakery, Will?”

  “Have you eaten today?” he asked.

  At that moment, her stomach emitted a huge growl, startling Toni and making him grin. “Oh!” she laughed, despite herself. “Did you hear that?” she asked Will.

  “What?”

  “Thank goodness,” she replied, relieved that he hadn’t heard that embarrassing noise coming from her stomach.

  “Unless you’re talking about that enormous lion roaring somewhere near you.”

  Christy blushed. “You’re right, Will, I haven’t eaten since breakfast. And I’m starving.”

  “Seems to me you’re very good at helping other people but not so hot at taking care of yourself.”

  “Will, it’s kind of you, but I don’t have time—” but as she said the words, she turned and glanced at Toni. He was gazing in at the bakery window, a ravenous expression on his face. But just then he caught her eye and jumped back, turning instead toward the street and beginning to whistle nonchalantly.

  Her heart went out to him. Poor guy—he was starving!

  “You need to make time, Christy,” Will insisted. “The cream cheese bagels are particularly good, I understand.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Go on,” he urged. “I’ll text your next move while you eat, you won’t lose time.”

  Toni tried to refuse when, five minutes later, she emerged from the bakery with bagels and coffee.

  “Please,” Christy urged, pressing coffee and one of the bagels into his hands. “Because you’re worth it?”

  Reluctantly he accepted, thanking her profusely in Italian, then tore into the food as though he hadn’t eaten for days. Christy felt a surge of guilt that it had taken Will to point out such a basic necessity to her. It was such a straightforwardly decent thing for him to do—so sweet! Her heart performed an inconvenient flip, and she took a gigantic bite of her bagel to shut it up.
>
  . Another text: Okay, just around the corner, next block, on the left, second door down. How’s the bagel? W

  They set off yet again, Christy texting as they walked.

  Lifesaving :)

  They arrived at Will’s instructed destination within minutes. Christy looked in the window, shook her head in exasperation, and whipped out her phone.

  “Will, a hair salon? Would you like to explain just where I’m going to find time to get my hair done this afternoon? You know, there’s helping me, and then there’s going over the top, and I really think—”

  “Christy?” Will interrupted.

  “Yes?” She drummed her fingers on her hipbone, waiting for his explanation. “This better be good.”

  “Go inside. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Bemused, she did as she was told. His voice had sounded different just then, a little less sure of himself. Toni followed her in. They were almost knocked over by the strength of the product-laden heatwave that hit them as soon as they opened the door. It was a seriously upmarket salon, and it was very crowded. Edgy-looking stylists, dressed head to toe in black, were busy tinting, cutting, and blow-drying—the noise from the hair dryers and chatter was almost deafening.

  “Turns out that our meeting on the train was more coincidental than we knew,” Will said after a moment or two. “I’ve just discovered somethi—”

  “Christy!” A very, very familiar voice pealed out across the hairspray-filled air. “I don’t believe it! Hey, sweetie!”

  Christy froze and looked. And then looked again.

  “Mom?”

  It felt like the most surreal moment of her life. How the heck had she landed at the same place as her mother? Wait a minute—and she had been directed there by Will?

  She stumbled, consumed by shock and confusion. Toni leapt to her side to steady her. This was mad!

  Her mother couldn’t get up. She was being ministered to by a snake-hipped male stylist with a bright purple beard, who held her down with his free hand as he backcombed her luxuriant new party style.

  Straightening up, Christy felt her shock giving way to fury. “Will!” She yelled down the phone. “What’s going on? How did you know my mom was here?—”

  “Oh, do calm down!” The voice that interrupted her down the line was giggling. And female. “Stop stressing, Christy!”

  “Annie?” This was just getting weirder and weirder. Maybe Ms. H had had her killed after all, and she was in some bizarre afterlife.

  “The very same! How you doing?”

  Christy felt as though she had finally relinquished her grip on whatever threads were left of her sanity. “Where are you?” she spluttered. “Why are you on my phone? Where’s Will?”

  “He’s here!” Annie chirped. “Great guy!”

  “What?”

  “He’s Carl’s son! Isn’t it just insane? I can’t believe it’s you he’s been talking to the whole day—he’s been up here in New Brunswick seeing his dad about some contract business, so he’s been helping me get ready for the party and a whole bunch of other stuff…Christy? Are you there?”

  Christy was dumbstruck for a second before she was able to speak. “How…what…he didn’t know you were my sister?”

  “No!” Annie laughed. “It took me a few minutes to give him the story.”

  “Not the whole story,” Christy faltered. “Annie, you didn’t…I’ll kill you!”

  “Most of it! I told him how you used to call me Ninny because you couldn’t say Annette, and how Mom made you change it to Nina so the neighbors didn’t think we were feral brats, and how you started copying Mom and calling me Annie once you realized how much I liked the name Nina, knowing it’d tick me off if you stopped using it.”

  “I don’t come over too great in that story,” Christy acknowledged. “You told him all of that?”

  “Yup!” Annie chuckled down the phone.

  “Thanks,” Christy said. “I suppose that’s karma for you.”

  Annie ignored the heavy sarcasm. “No problem! I was going to take him back to Manhattan, but I’ve persuaded him and his dad to go out to the airport and meet Antonio.”

  “I don’t believe it! That’s…insane…”

  “That’s what he said!”

  “I was supposed to be getting Antonio…” Christy’s voice faltered, then tailed away. She no longer knew what to think.

  “I couldn’t get through to you, so sending Will and his dad was my ingenious backup plan! But look, listen, Christy, if you head up there now, you could give Will the papers and get your phone back at the same time. It’s perfect, don’t you think? Oh, the kismet!” She dissolved into gales of laughter.

  Christy felt something snap inside her. A physical, powerful explosion of emotion that she’d never felt before.

  “Annette Jacqueline Davies!” She yelled her sister’s full name so loudly that, for a moment, all of the chatter in the salon fell silent. “I do not know what is going on here but if you laugh at me one more time, I swear, I’ll not be responsible for my actions! Do you have any idea the day I’ve had? No, you wouldn’t. How could you? You’ve never spent time sorting out other people’s problems in your entire life!”

  “Ooo, listen to you!” Annie trilled. “And why do you think that’s the case? Because you’re the family control freak, not me! I never got a look-in!”

  “Oh, yeah? I’ve spent the whole day running around like crazy, and all because of you! You never take any responsibility for stuff, do you realize that? No, of course you don’t! You always expect me to do everything for you; I have to do it, I carry the can, I take all your pressure and it turns into my pressure, and now you’re laughing at me!”

  “Hey, don’t you try and blame me for your bizarro personality, kiddo!”

  Annie’s calm rebuked enraged Christy even more. “What? I don’t have a bizarre personality. I’m not a control—” but she couldn’t finish the sentence because she knew what Annie had said was true. “Okay, I may be a control freak, but so are you!”

  “Oh, hardly,” Annie drawled, but her voice had an edge of irritation.

  “Yes, you are! You control us all by stealth, Annie, that’s what you do. You dip in and out of our lives, turning away before you can be any help to anyone apart from yourself! They’re your rules, Annie, and Mom and I have been playing by them for far too long! Whenever you’re around, we dance to your tune.”

  “Sweetie, you don’t think you could keep it down a little, please?” her mother implored from the other side of the room, embarrassed perhaps by her own daughter’s behavior. “People in the next county will be able to hear you!”

  “I’m not done yet!” Christy stormed as Toni laid a hand on her shoulder. She brushed it away. “There’s more than just you on the planet, you know, Annie!”

  She paused, breathing heavily.

  When Annie responded, her voice had become low and measured. “Now just you wait a goddamn minute, Christy. You really think you’ve got the moral high ground, don’t you? Well, let me tell you, it’s not easy being around you sometimes, either.”

  “How would you know? You never are!” Christy shot back.

  “I’m here now,” Annie countered.

  “Thanks very much! I’ve been waiting for your call all day! You expect me to drop everything—”

  “Huh? I tried to call, like, ten times today but never got through. But anyways, it’s been a big day for me, too, Christy. I’ve been organizing my engagement party, in case you forgot. And do you want to know something I’ve just realized? Let me tell you, Christy: when I’m with someone, I’m with them, do you understand that? I’ve been talking to people all day, but not over the phone. I put my time and effort into the people who are right in front of me.”

  “What do you want, a medal?” Christy’s voice was loaded with sarcasm and sounded childish, even to Christy’s own ears.

  “And you don’t!” Annie
said triumphantly. “You spend your time organizing stuff, you’ve always got one eye on what you have to do next, or what someone else has got to do next, that you never sit down, shut the heck up, and just, just be in the moment with people…with me, and Mom—”

  “That is the biggest pile of—” Oh, her sister made her angry sometimes!

  “No, Christy, it isn’t. When was the last time you called me up—”

  “I call almost every day to help you sort out your wedding arrangements—”

  “No, I mean, when have you called me, like, just for a chat?”

  Enraged, Christy frantically searched her memory banks, longing with every ounce of her being to rip back with a put-down about all of the time she’d spent chatting to her sister over the years. She searched, and searched…

  “You never have, Christy. Whenever I hear from you, it’s to organize stuff.”

  “Annie,” Christy felt herself dangerously close to tears. “You don’t get it, do you? I have got to stay on top of things because you won’t!”

  “No, no, and no!” Annie, too, raised her voice. “Mom and I have got to let you do everything because you never let us in! You’re the one who’s always got the better way, the only way of doing anything, like, like Christmas—y’know, I sometimes think Christmas should be renamed ‘Christy-mas’ at home—you do the food, you do the decorating, you tell us all where to put the napkins—”

  “You never help!”

  “But if I do, you usually do it again! Sometimes I get to the stage when it’s easier just to give up and let you run the show. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it!”

  Christy ran family Christmases over in her mind. She remembered having to redo Annie’s decorations, having to rewrap Annie’s presents—even her own. But everyone always said how much better they were her way. She was only trying to help…but maybe that’s not the point. “You’re just making excuses,” she said defensively.

  “I’m not!” Annie insisted. “It’s all business with you. Mom and I are just things you have to slot into your schedule!”

  Christy was fighting not to start crying. “The only reason,” she faltered, “that I am in the mess I’m in today is because I have been bending over backward to keep everyone—including you—happy.”