New York Valentine

by Carmen Reid

  But gyms … workouts, sit-ups, weights and all that stuff. Dinah was into all that. Not Annie. Not at all. She’d set foot in a gym once or twice, but so long ago she couldn’t even remember much about it.

  ‘Well … I walk a lot,’ Annie replied, defensively.

  Gawain laughed and shook his head. ‘You walk?! Walking is not exercise. Walking is how you get to the gym.’

  ‘So?’ Connor broke in. ‘What should she do? Where should she get started? I know you can help, because you work miracles.’

  ‘Getting people who’ve been in shape back into shape is hard work but it can be done. Getting people who’ve never been in shape into any kind of shape at all is kinda tough,’ Gawain declared. ‘They’ve got no muscles, they’ve got no aerobic function, and they don’t know what hard gym work is all about. Plus their mental attitude usually sucks.’

  ‘Oh, and there I was thinking you weren’t going to be nice about me,’ Annie said, her face reddening.

  ‘If you’ve never been fit before, lady, it is going to be really, really tough to get fit. And that is the absolutely honest truth. You’re going to have to want to be fit with every fibre of your being. You’re going to have to want to work out every single day way past the point of throwing up with pain.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘This is my card.’ He handed it over to her. ‘We could have one introductory session, I can assess you, I can give you a basic plan and you can see if you’re going to be able to tough it out.’

  Before she could get out the words, ‘No thanks’, Connor butted in with, ‘If I buy it for her, Gawain, how much? Mates rates?’

  Gawain blessed Connor with a perfectly white-toothed smile: ‘For you, Connor McCabe, only $400.’

  ‘Deal,’ Connor said.

  Annie gasped in horror. Not just at the phenomenal price but at the fact that Connor was buying it for her. If he bought it, he might even make her go!

  ‘I’ll add it to your bill,’ Gawain told Connor, then brought out his phone, flipped through to the diary and asked Annie when she could fit the session into her schedule.

  Annie felt like a bunny in the headlights.

  ‘Ummm … the next few days are very hectic,’ she stalled, ‘we’re preparing for this fashion show.’

  Now Lana was leaning in, getting up to speed with the conversation.

  ‘Are you going to “Train with Gawain – trademark”?’ she asked, trying not to giggle. ‘That is so cool, Mum. I can’t believe you’re going to do that. He’s really, really good. He was just telling me about his special squats, guaranteed to lift your butt by at least two inches – “trademark”.’

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll be so busy with the show.’

  ‘Squeeze it in, Mum,’ Lana urged. ‘C’mon, early one morning, maybe?’

  ‘That would be perfect,’ Gawain confirmed. ‘I have a 5.30a.m. slot. The gym does get really busy after 6.30 with my trader clients who need to be at their desks by 8a.m.’

  ‘5.30a.m.??’

  Annie wasn’t sure if she’d heard properly.

  Yes, jet lag might have been working for her on the first few days in town, allowing for some outrageously early mornings, but now she stayed out late and lay in bed till 8.30.am. just like all the other fashionistas in her apartment.

  ‘5.30a.m. on Friday?’ Gawain asked, nail poised over his phone.

  ‘Fine,’ Annie replied, completely confident that something would come up and she would be able to back out of this torment.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tiffany’s assistant:

  White shirt (Gap)

  Black suit (Uniform)

  Comfortable black trainers (Geox)

  Diamond earring (Tiffany’s with staff discount)

  Watch (Tiffany’s with discount)

  Total est. cost: $620

  ‘ … always very happy to talk …’

  It was 8.30p.m. and growing dark when Annie managed to extricate herself from the ‘Connor comes to NYC’ reunion party. Both Elena and Lana tried to persuade her to stay on, but Annie needed to get away from Gawain’s critical gaze and dieting suggestions.

  She’d been in New York for nearly three weeks and there were still so many places that she hadn’t seen. With Ed, she’d chalked off a few museums, so she wasn’t going to worry about that too much, but there were still so many unvisited shops!

  She hadn’t yet set foot inside a Coach handbag store, although Coach was the bag every second New Yorker she passed was carrying. She still hadn’t been into a typically US jeans warehouse, or to Century 21, Bergdorf Goodman, Dooney & Bourke, Brooks Brothers or to any of the famous New York names she’d promised herself she would at least browse around.

  Hurrying towards the top of Fifth Avenue, she was delighted to see that she still had a good hour or so before the shops closed.

  And here was Tiffany’s – the fabulously famous Fifth Avenue jewellers.

  Right here.

  She couldn’t possibly walk past the windows, thinking of Audrey Hepburn, without going in to take a little look.

  Inside the store, it was cool and glittery and much bigger than she had expected: a vast ground floor, then elevators at the back leading to even more dazzling goodies. Smart and sophisticated sales staff stood behind the glass cases where Tiffany’s jewelled delights were beautifully displayed. Annie walked slowly past key-shaped pendants encrusted with diamonds.

  ‘Good evening, ma’am and how are you today?’ the salesman behind a counter began with a fresh and friendly smile, although he must have asked the question hundreds of times today.

  ‘I’m great, thanks, but I think I’ll keep on walking … there are too many diamonds here for me.’

  ‘I’m always very happy to talk, if you need me,’ he added with direct eye contact and another smile. Whoa … now that was service.

  As she rounded a cabinet studded with some of the most graceful diamond necklaces she had ever seen, her phone began to ring. She was delighted to hear the deep and melodious tones of her favourite multimillionairess on the other end of the line.

  ‘Annnnnaaaah,’ Svetlana began, ‘what is the news from New York?’

  ‘Svetlana, hello!’

  Eyes widening at the price tag on the diamond pendant she’d been admiring, Annie added: ‘I’m in Tiffany’s … I was just thinking of you.’

  ‘Tscha, Tiffany’s for tourists, go to Harry Winston or Cartier, if you like to buy something nice.’

  ‘I wasn’t really buying. I was looking.’

  ‘Buy!’ Svetlana instructed, ‘you have some money now and your jewellery is all …’

  Annie waited for the killer blow. How would Svetlana, usually dripping in hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of jewels dismiss Annie’s jewellery, which was usually an impulse buy from Accessorize?

  ‘Unimpressive.’

  Ouch! That was understated yet harsh.

  Unimpressive.

  ‘Well, we didn’t all marry money,’ Annie snapped, unable to stop herself.

  ‘Big mistake,’ came the tart reply, ‘but I not phone to talk about this. Tell me about the new dresses, the orders and the show you are organizing. I hear from Elena, of course, but I like to know what you think. Is it vorrrrking?’ she asked.

  ‘The dresses look brilliant. We used cheap jersey material but made them very stylish,’ Annie began with the positive, ‘but the orders are not so good, which is why we are holding the show. We’ve invited everyone who made an order to come and take a look at the dresses in the nicest setting we can find for $1,800.

  ‘Oh, and Bloomingdale’s has cancelled. You know that?’

  ‘Ya. Is very, very upsetting. But this to do with Elena finishing with Sye. Like I tell her to.’

  ‘You told her to finish?’ Annie bent down low to look at the cabinet in front of her. The Tiffany keys. She loved them. She wanted all of them. The slim gold key-shaped pendant on a delicate, sliver of a gold chain – would that be impressive enough
for Svetlana? No, Svetlana would treat herself to the huge platinum one, smothered in diamonds, with the five-figure price tag.

  ‘Ya,’ Svetlana replied casually.

  ‘And she did that for you?’

  Annie decided she would keep the information that Elena and Sye were totally back together to herself, for now.

  ‘Ya, I tell her not to waste time on some photographer whose mother work in clothes store. This is waste of her beautiful talents.’

  ‘She should be marrying rich?’

  ‘Of courrrrrse, just like her mama.’

  Now Annie felt tetchy enough to remind Svetlana: ‘The rich men did not make you very happy.’

  ‘No. But divorce settlements did.’

  ‘Only the last one. And remember how he tried to get away with leaving you nothing.’

  ‘All forgotten now I have my millions and my Harry.’

  It had, in the end, worked out very nicely for Svetlana, Annie had to admit. And it was no use griping that she hadn’t worked hard to get where she was today.

  Being a millionaire’s wife was one very, very high maintenance career choice. It explained why Svetlana had ‘settled’ for just a ‘very wealthy’ man for husband number five. Harry loved her just the way she was, apparently.

  Just the way Svetlana was involved a daily personal trainer, a live-in maid, quarterly Botox, anti-ageing laser treatments, jewels, furs, and purely designer clothes and accessories.

  This explained why Svetlana, believed to be in her late forties, looked like most women did in their mid-twenties.

  ‘Where is the show? Has Elena picked good place?’

  ‘It’s a lovely hotel with an old-fashioned Russian émigré theme. It’s chandeliers, marble and leather but with a cool edge. Dark blue walls, very moody. She’s calling it the Eastern Bloc Party. A DJ friend is doing the music, lots of S—’

  Ooops, Annie had nearly said ‘Sye’s friends’.

  ‘Lots of very cool people are coming,’ she corrected herself, ‘I think it will do wonders for sales.’

  ‘Press?’ Sveltana asked immediately. ‘No good even breathing in a Perfect Dress if no press around.’

  ‘Some photographers are coming, so hopefully we’ll get something into the press.’

  ‘Ha. I know how we will get a fabulous front page story. I am going to come to the fashion show and I bring a very special friend.’

  Annie turned away from the latest glass case she’d been peering into. ‘You’re going to come … from London?’

  ‘Ya. I have decided. I arrive just in time for lunch with my especial friend, then we come together for show. Tell the photographers they are getting surprise.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me who it is?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I like surprises. Also, tell everyone you invite that I am giving out goodie bags. Very special goodie bags. Everyone come for a good freebie. I’ve found some money I can spend, Annah. I sell some boring old watch – I forget who give it to me – and I put $15,000 more into this show to make it more special.’

  ‘Fantastic …’ Annie said, although it would have been nice to have known about that before they entered the marathon price negotiating session with the owner of the hotel. Both Elena and Lana had been working like slaves trying to get everything for nothing for this show-on-a-shoestring.

  Still, $15,000 now would make a huge difference and yes, plenty of extra guests would come for Svetlana’s idea of a goodie bag.

  ‘How is your family, Annah? I not hear anything about them yet.’

  Annie was now standing in front of a display of tactile round golden pendants on black silk cords. They were beautiful. She wondered if Svetlana would be impressed. Probably not. Probably nothing short of a rope full of diamond bling would cause Svet to even look twice.

  ‘The babies are fine. I’m missing them much more than I think they’re missing me,’ Annie replied. ‘Owen is good, Lana is loving New York. I’m worried that I won’t be able to get her to come home. Ed is somehow managing without me.’

  ‘If this run of dresses sells big, Annah, you should move to New York, like I tell you to, and work for us,’ Svetlana said, just as casually as if she was inviting Annie for lunch. ‘Why not?’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The boutique buyer:

  Grey pencil skirt (Ralph Lauren)

  Silver taffeta blouse (Vera Wang)

  Brooch (Christian Dior)

  Black heels (Salvatore Ferragamo)

  Total est. cost (but spread out over years): $1,650

  ‘Not too madly expensive.’

  Annie fiddled with the canapé arrangements until the glares from the huge Russian waiter behind the bar told her that she was to leave everything alone now.

  The room where the show was to be held – terrifyingly soon – looked perfect and so serious with its deep, dark blue walls, shiny black woodwork, black floor and heady white magnolia flowers set out in black vases.

  A catwalk of blue carpet curved through the room. The plan was to seat the guests at the black lacquered tables, where they could sip at their Russian cocktails and watch the three models walk past in Perfect Dresses styled for every occasion.

  Annie had thought she would be backstage, helping the models to rush in and out of the outfits which she, Elena and Lana had so carefully put together: Perfect Dress with diamonds, pearls and heels. Perfect Dress with boots and cardigan. Perfect Dress with whichever appropriate accessories could be found in Elena’s, Annie’s and Lana’s wardrobe.

  Annie had even lent out the precious sea-green bag. But only to the one model she could totally trust with it: Lana.

  Yes, in just twenty minutes or so, Lana was going to be holding her own with two professional catalogue models. (Catalogue models because they were cheaper, shorter and wouldn’t tower over Lana too much.) Elena had insisted on Lana modelling. She thought Lana in ballet pumps, a knitted scarf and a beret was the face of the Perfect Dress casual line.

  Elena had designated Annie to front of house, so she would be chatting to guests, telling them about dresses, prices, availability, and generally using her abilities to sell, sell, sell.

  Elena suddenly appeared from the room which was serving as the backstage area. ‘Is anyone here yet?’ she asked, glancing at her dainty watch.

  ‘No. Not a soul, we should at least have got Sye and some friends to come round early and fill the space up a bit.’

  At the mention of Sye’s name, Elena’s face softened into a smile. As Elena hadn’t been in her own room for almost a whole week, Annie could safely assume all was very well on the Sye and Elena bliss front.

  ‘Sye doesn’t think it’s good for him to come … because his mother has decided to be here,’ Elena revealed.

  ‘His mother? The wicked witch from Bloomingdale’s? In person? She’s not just going to send some minion in her place?’

  Elena nodded, then said: ‘Maybe she hear about gift bags?’

  ‘Aha!’

  The pale blue, specially commissioned Tiffany’s gift bags were currently locked up in the hotel’s safe. Each one contained a silver Tiffany key ring, a discount voucher, an invitation to an exclusive jewellery preview event, a mini bottle of Taittinger and a pot of finest Beluga caviare.

  Word of the gift bags had been spread to all the invited guests.

  ‘Why is Mrs Bloomingdale’s coming?’ Annie wondered. ‘Does she know you and Sye are back together?’

  ‘I don’t know … and my mother coming too. It is going to be hell. Absolute hell.’

  Before they could wind their pre-show nerves into any more of a frenzy, a small knot of people began to approach the room.

  But not before Annie realized that an urgent ringing sound was coming from her tiny clutch bag. ‘One second,’ she promised Elena.

  Elena set her face to smile and began to approach the new arrivals.

  ‘Hi it’s Annie here,’ Annie began, not recognizing
the incoming number.

  ‘Annie, it’s Tamsin. I’m so sorry, it’s been weeks and weeks, but drop everything you’re doing. We have movement! I’m meeting someone to talk about you this afternoon and I’d like you to come along for the final part of the meet.’

  ‘Really!’ Annie gasped and wondered just how Tamsin was going to take the news that she couldn’t possibly drop everything and be in central London for this afternoon. ‘That is so fantastic. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant news.’

  ‘I know. It’s Gregor Forman from Channel Five, and we’re meeting at the—’

  ‘Tamsin, I can’t be there. I would absolutely love to be there … but I’m in New York right now.’

  There was silence.

  Annie looked up to see more and more guests streaming into the room and Elena glaring at her, urging her to finish the call and help meet and greet.

  ‘You’re in New York?’ Tamsin asked. ‘Why did I not know about this? I’ve told him you’ll be there. When can you get back?’

  ‘I don’t know … as soon as I possibly can,’ Annie said, but she didn’t know if this was true. She wanted to be here. She wanted to make sure everything was working out with the dresses before she left. And she felt truly torn. Between a career she’d thought she’d loved and this exciting new fashion business which dazzled her with all its possibilities.

  ‘This is so extremely rude of me, I know, Tamsin, when you’re working so hard for me. But I’m in the middle of something big. I’m going to have to go but I’ll call you back just as soon as I can.’

  ‘Right, fine,’ Tamsin said and hung up without another word.

  Annie put away her phone and tried to file away all her fears about this call. Just like Elena, she set her face to smile and began to head towards the nearest group of guests.

  ‘Hi, how are you? Welcome,’ Annie began, trying to sound as transatlantic as she could, ‘what can our Russian barman fix up for you? A White Russian, perhaps? A little chilled vodka cocktail? Maybe keep it simple with a glass of champagne? Can I just say, that is one fabulous brooch.’