The Gift of a Charm

by Melissa Hill

  He was a slender man, with thinning reddish hair and a large moustache. He, like Carole, had been downtown for years, holding on to his little thrift store with all his might, except his shop had not so much evolved like the Secret Closet had but had simply become more overcrowded. Frank’s checkout counter was up on a platform as they were in the old days, so he could have full view of the store to see if there were any shoplifters. As a result, his customers would have to strain to reach the counter in order to check out. The effect was amusing.

  Holly smiled at him. ‘Nope.’ She indicated the box she was holding. ‘Just popping down to Father Mike with a couple of things, if you wanted to add to them. It’s pretty cold out these days, you know,’ she added pointedly.

  Frank waved his hands in feigned annoyance. ‘Well, I don’t have time now. I’m just about to close up.’

  Holly smiled inwardly; she knew he would try and get out of it somehow. ‘It’s OK; I’ll just go through the racks and pick out a few things myself. Unlike you, I’m a pro at this.’

  Frank practically flew down from his perch behind the register. He sighed. ‘OK. Just nothing with too good a label – that’s all I ask.’

  The two of them slowly made their way along the racks, and Frank started to get into it, checking coats for tears and stains and actually picking out the best ones (though the labels weren’t fancy) to serve as donations.

  ‘So you have a heart after all,’ Holly teased.

  He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Nah, I already told you, Max took it when he left me.’

  Frank’s partner had left him over a year ago, having hot-tailed it to Florida with a much younger man. The only good thing, claimed Frank, was that he had left behind everything he owned, which he immediately put up for sale in his shop.

  ‘You haven’t found anyone since?’ Holly asked.

  ‘Oh, I have found plenty of anyones!’ he laughed. ‘Just not the one.’

  Holly nodded and the two of them continued to work through the racks in silence. She shook her head to herself. Here they were in the biggest, busiest city in the world, where you would think you’d easily bump into the person of your dreams. They could be passing through, or visiting, working nearby or even taking in a Broadway show. But it seemed everyone Holly knew was single, lonely and searching. Of course, she herself was not searching; she had too much going on with Danny. But it would be nice to have someone special in her life sometime.

  ‘What about you, Holly?’ Frank asked, as if reading her mind. They had reached the end of the rack and the box was now full to bursting. ‘Any dates recently?’

  She laughed. ‘I have a date every night, remember? His name is Danny.’

  ‘Oh please! How old is he now? Give it a few short years and he’ll be out on dates himself – then what will you do?’

  Holly paused. She hadn’t really given it that much thought, but Frank did have a point. The last ten years had flown by. It seemed only yesterday that she was rocking Danny as an infant, and now he had just turned ten. It seemed unfathomable.

  Frank smiled at her thoughtful expression and added some more fuel to the fire. ‘And of course men age so much more gracefully than women. Let’s see … fifteen is the age of staying out in this city. So that’s just five years from now – which would bring you to the ripe old age of … what, forty?’

  ‘Frank – enough!’ Holly exclaimed. ‘If that’s the case, all I’ll need to do is to come and hang out with you on a Saturday night, seeing as you’re telling me you don’t go anywhere.’

  But his words had struck a chord with her. Danny was growing up so fast, and already she could see him pulling away. What would she do when he did?

  Holly closed up the box and thanked Frank again, who gave her a dry peck on the cheek as she left.

  Carefully making her way down the already slippery path, she headed up to Sixth Street. Sacred Heart was one of the oldest churches in the city, and Holly loved dropping off donations there. There was something very peaceful about walking into a dusty, empty church. She wasn’t a terribly religious person these days – the family used to attend Mass back in Queens when she was younger, but her dad always said that all you needed for a church was a few people hanging around talking about good things. Which she figured was as good a description as any.

  Holly frowned as she walked up the steps. Had she failed spiritually with Danny? She was concentrating so hard on keeping it all together, with providing for him and making sure his life was steady, it was easy to overlook that side of things. He had asked about his grandfather a couple of times, and Holly had told him that Seamus was in heaven, which seemed to satisfy him.

  She heaved open the door and her boots clicked as she walked down the centre aisle towards the altar. Holly wasn’t sure about heaven herself, and she remembered being so angry when her father died – at least until the arrival of her beloved bracelet.

  She stopped alongside the altar and peered through the dusty air to the office in the back. ‘Hello, Father Mike?’ she called out tentatively.

  ‘Holly? Back here,’ a chipper voice sounded from the enclave.

  Holly often wondered how the priest was able to recognise her voice with all the people he must talk to all day long, though – she glanced over her shoulder at the empty pews – maybe it wasn’t such a mystery after all. But he also had some involvement with St Patrick’s Cathedral uptown, which she guessed would be a much busier post.

  ‘Hey there, good to see you. What have you got for us this month?’ Father Mike appeared in the doorway and gratefully relieved her of the box. He was a short man, built like a boxer, with greying hair and a weathered face, and his life was dedicated to helping all and any who came his way. He had plenty of destitute and needy in his congregation who might not necessarily show up for Mass, but definitely showed up on Wednesdays for soup, and for provisions, like clothes and blankets. He placed the box on his desk in the tiny room and began sorting through the contents. The church basement was hopping with activities most of the time, Holly knew. There were flyers all over the place. Single parenting meetings, AA meetings, grief counselling, marriage counselling, choir, soup kitchen … the list went on and on.

  ‘Oh, would you look at that?’ He pulled out an oversize leather handbag that was a blatant Gucci knockoff. ‘That has Stella written all over it…’ He winked at Holly, who smiled in agreement. Stella was a local ‘girl’ – a transvestite who suffered from depression and was occasionally in need of help. Holly had only figured out who she was after watching her march by the store one day in some worn Versace boots Holly had dropped off a few days before.

  ‘Nice, Holly, very nice…’ He sorted through the rest of the items – warm coats, more bags, things the few older women in his tiny congregation could use. ‘It’s a pity you don’t get more men’s clothing … that’s what I really need, suits. Something to give them some dignity and some confidence.’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Sorry, I wish we did too. I got as much as I could from Frank, but you know what he’s like…’

  Father Mike smiled and closed up the box. ‘I sure do. That man could find my grandmother’s tea cosy and sell it as the Shroud of Turin.’

  Holly laughed. It was true; Frank felt obligated to try and sell absolutely everything that came his way, which was one of the main reasons Encore was so crowded and disorganised.

  ‘Thanks for this, and pass on my appreciation to Carole too, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  There was noise in the front of the church and a few people started filing in in the dark, laughing.

  ‘Ah, they’re here to set up downstairs,’ said Father Mike. ‘We’re having an alcohol-free mixer tonight – want to join us?’

  Holly smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m too bushed tonight, Mike, and I need to get back to Danny, but thanks for the invite.’

  Father Mike patted her on the shoulder. ‘Ah well. Now go home and … meditate or do yoga or whatever it is you he
athens get up to these days.’

  Holly gave him a hug and promised to try and weasel some additional menswear out of Frank next time.

  When she reached home about half an hour later, the glow of the TV was on and Danny and Kate were on the couch watching a movie.

  ‘Hey, guys.’ Holly gave Danny a kiss and he looked up at her sleepily. ‘You’re late.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, I just had to pop over to Sacred Heart. Did you eat?’

  Kate nodded. ‘Yep, we had hot dogs, just like you suggested.’

  ‘Yummy…’ Danny added appreciatively.

  Holly slipped off her coat and hung it on the hook by the door. ‘Well, I hope you left some for your poor old mom.’

  Kate stretched and got up off the couch, readying herself to leave. ‘Course we did.’

  Holly gave her a quick hug as she left, promising to talk again tomorrow. She put some ketchup and mustard on her hot dog, and sat next to Danny on the couch. ‘What are you watching?’

  ‘Oh, I think it’s something about a falcon,’ Danny said disinterestedly. ‘It’s kind of boring, though.’

  Kate had become addicted to old movies, probably from her days with Justin, but as a result she had got Holly addicted to them as well. On the TV screen, Humphrey Bogart looked passionately at the portrait of the woman he was searching for. Holly ate her hot dog, wondering if times were simpler back then.

  ‘That’s some apartment…’ she murmured.

  ‘Yeah, in Hollywood,’ Danny murmured back.

  Holly watched as Bogart searched frantically for the love of his life, and wondered if anyone would ever do that for her. Relationships seemed so dispassionate nowadays … No one seemed willing to try hard, to fall in love so deeply you felt as though you’d got hit on the head with a shovel. Did love like that even exist any more? Did it ever?

  Holly sat back on the couch, reminding herself that, in truth, she’d felt a little bit like that when she first met Nick …

  Chelsea, Lower Manhattan, 1999

  Holly couldn’t help but feel that the stars were finally aligning for her and things were going her way. She felt like skipping she was so happy! But, considering just how loaded down her arms were at that particular moment, with grocery bags, her handbag, as well as the coat that she realised was too heavy to wear as spring started to make its debut, skipping probably would be hard to manage.

  She took a deep breath as she considered all that had been going on. She smiled as she thought of the meeting that she had just finished, with the owner of Village Consignment, a lovely little vintage store based nearby. She’d got the job, her first real job! She had wanted it so badly, ever since she’d walked into the store for the first time, and her imagination had gone wild as she’d perused the expansive selection of vintage evening gowns and flouncy skirts with billowing petticoats that had probably been worn at sock hops and school dances in 1956.

  Holly couldn’t help but wonder about all the sure-to-be fantastic stories associated with the beautiful clothes, and was quick to point out and explain to her prospective boss the history behind many of the classic cuts and hemlines – knowledge she had acquired during her college days, which had successfully ended last summer.

  Since graduating, she had been sending out countless job applications and barely making ends meet with a string of waitressing and bartending jobs in Manhattan. Ideally, she’d love to own and run such a store of her own someday, but for now, this was a start.

  She had to admit she was happy that she would have a regular salary; she didn’t feel so guilty about splurging a little bit with the groceries she’d just bought. After all, a night like tonight called for a nice steak and a bottle of wine. OK, it would just be New York strip and not a fillet, but still …

  She pulled a Motorola phone out of her pocket and flicked it open. Despite Holly’s protests, Eileen had insisted she have this cell phone, especially since she lived in a walk-up apartment that was slightly lax on the security in an area that was borderline problematic. For once, she’d decided to humour her mother. Eileen paid the bill for the phone, because it was a luxury that Holly couldn’t quite manage on her own at this point, as well as a habit she didn’t particularly like.

  She hated passing people on the street who were engaged in loud conversations with their pieces of plastic – a sight that was becoming more and more common these days. And while she had originally vowed that she would only use it for emergencies, now she really, really wanted to spread the news about her new job.

  Holly quickly dialled a few numbers, first calling her mother, then her college roommate Laura, who had since moved back to her home state of Maine, and her old schoolfriend Sally back in Queens. She was quick about her calls – she didn’t want to run up a big bill – and of course everyone was thrilled for her.

  Holly hiked up the bag of groceries a little bit further on her hip and briefly considered calling Dylan, a guy she’d met a few weeks previously and whom she’d been seeing somewhat casually. She wasn’t sure if there were any sparks between them, and Holly was a firm believer in the idea that if fireworks didn’t go off immediately, then it probably wouldn’t ever happen.

  She had really tried to like him, and he was a nice guy, good looking and charming; but there was just something missing.

  Being with him, and talking to him, it felt, well, forced, and the couple of times that he had been clearly interested in taking their dalliance to the next step, Holly couldn’t get past the kissing.

  Dylan also didn’t understand why someone with a college degree would want to work in retail, of all things. Holly had explained that her background was in fashion merchandising, and that you had to start somewhere. When she went on the initial interview at Village Consignment, Dylan had rolled his eyes and compared it to working at the Salvation Army.

  She knew that she would probably just have to cut him loose soon. After all, why waste time with someone who wasn’t the one? Why sell herself short with someone who clearly had a lack of imagination?

  Holly placed the phone back in her pocket, glancing down briefly. In that split second, she collided with what felt like a brick wall.

  Caught off her guard, she was thrown off balance and landed in a heap on the path with all her bags and belongings.

  ‘Oh, man, sorry. Are you OK?’

  Holly looked up and was met with the deepest, most liquid blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. The man had dark hair, and a square jaw with stubble that said, ‘I haven’t shaved today, but I still look good.’ She stared at him with her mouth open and felt her heart jump in her chest.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Can I help you up?’ He smiled and a dimple appeared on his cheek. His eyes were heavily lashed and she suddenly thought about her current Hollywood crush, Leonardo di Caprio. This guy had those eyes.

  But then she realised he was still waiting for an answer. Holly shook her head, as if she needed to clear the fog away. ‘Oh yes … sorry, I … Right.’ She smiled meekly, at a loss for words.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asked, pulling her up from the ground.

  ‘I think so…’ She looked at the bags strewn about her. ‘Oh crap. But my wine isn’t.’ The bottle of wine that she had bought had not survived the collision.

  ‘Oh no, that’s my fault, I’m so sorry. Shit, I’m a klutz. I was walking with my head down. Messing with this stupid phone.’ He held up a Motorola like Holly’s.

  ‘It’s fine. It was just a cheap bottle, no big loss. It probably would have given me a headache anyway.’ Then she considered her words. What if he thought she was some sort of lush? That she drank bottles of wine alone? ‘I mean, not that I would have drunk the whole thing. I was just going to cook dinner – a steak. And, you know, red wine and red meat and all…’

  Shut up, Holly! she thought to herself. She bit her lip. ‘Anyway…’

  A smile played about his lips. ‘It’s OK, I know what you mean. I like a nice glass of wine with a steak too.
Can I make it up to you?’ His grin was broad and open and Holly felt flutters in her stomach.

  ‘Really, you don’t have to do that,’ she protested, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  ‘Please, I want to. It’s the least I can do for running you over. I’m Nick. Nick Mestas.’ He held out his hand again. ‘Nice to meet you … erm, I didn’t catch your name?’

  ‘Holly. Holly O’Neill.’

  ‘O’Neill? As in the bar chain?’ he queried and she winced. The drinking connection again.

  ‘Can’t say. I’ve never been in one actually,’ she told him.

  ‘But you are Irish, yes? That hair, those eyes?’

  Holly blushed furiously. ‘Second generation,’ she confirmed, not willing to get into the specifics.

  ‘Me too. Second generation, I mean, although Greek in my case.’ He laughed. ‘My parents really thought about that one. Bet you never heard of a Greek named Nick, huh?’ She giggled, and he flashed a smile that made her heart almost stop. ‘So what do you say, Holly O’Neill? Dinner to make it up to you? We could go to an Irish bar if you’d like.’

  Holly swallowed hard. She had planned to stay in, cook a steak, drink some wine from the now broken bottle that stained the path, and then probably take a bubble bath, but really she had just collided with one of the best-looking men she had ever laid eyes on, a man who was now asking her to dinner. Maybe her stars really were aligned today.

  ‘So, what do you think? I swear I don’t bite, and I will never knock you over again. If you like red wine, I know this little bistro down in Greenwich serving a cabernet that will literally make your mouth water.’

  ‘Greenwich … I just came from there,’ Holly said absently, feeling as if she couldn’t control the words that were coming out of her mouth. ‘I just got a new job in a store in the Village and—’

  ‘Well, then you have to say yes. We have to celebrate.’ He smiled again and Holly had to restrain herself from throwing herself at him right then and there. If there was such a thing as love at first sight – well, maybe lust at first sight – Holly had a bad case of it.