The Gift of a Charm

by Melissa Hill

  ‘OK, then, it’s a date,’ she smiled.

  * * *

  It was after dark when the cab pulled up to the kerb in front of Holly’s walk-up. Nick jumped out of the car and ran round to Holly’s side to open the door for her. She stepped gracefully out as she held Nick’s hand and a shiver ran along the length of her spine as she wondered if he would try to kiss her.

  ‘Mind if I walk you to your door?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Sure,’ she replied, feeling suddenly shy.

  Nick turned to the driver. ‘Can you wait for me? Keep the meter running. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Holly smiled at his chivalry and silently added another point to Nick’s score, which had been accumulating all evening since she’d first laid eyes on him.

  And what an evening it had been. From the moment he had helped her up from the sidewalk, he’d been nothing but a complete and utter gentleman. Opening doors, pulling out her chair, asking questions. So unlike many of the guys she had encountered in Manhattan, who just wanted to talk about themselves, or sit at some bar drinking beer and watching whatever sport happened to be on TV. No, Nick was quite the opposite.

  He was twenty-six, a couple of years older than her, and had been living in New York since he graduated from UCLA and left the West Coast in hopes of cashing in on the growing Internet boom that was sweeping the globe.

  He had a background in the emerging field of computer science, and said that he was big into gadgets, especially his cell phone.

  What’s more, Nick seemed to completely get Holly’s love for the city, as well as how excited she was to start work at Village Consignment. He was a rapt audience, and they had spent the better part of the last four and a half hours talking about so many things.

  Holly walked to her door with Nick at her elbow and she felt nervous anticipation settle in her stomach. She really wanted to kiss him.

  ‘So, I had a great time tonight, Nick. I’m glad we ran into each other. Literally,’ she added, smiling.

  ‘I am too. I’m hoping that you will say yes if I ask to see you again.’ He took a step closer and glanced at her lips. He was going to kiss her … She knew it.

  She gulped and nodded. ‘Yes, I’d really like that.’

  ‘How’s breakfast tomorrow? Too soon?’ He smiled and her heart beat faster.

  ‘No, not too soon.’ Her head moved closer to his and then suddenly he pulled her close, enveloping her in an embrace and covering her mouth with his. ‘Holly…’ Nick whispered. She opened her eyes and wondered if he was going to ask to come in. Much as she wanted him to, she also hoped he wouldn’t. She never slept with a guy on a first date. Although this time she was tempted to break that rule.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You are amazing. And I would love to stand here all night kissing you. I had a wonderful time tonight. But let’s save some of this for breakfast in the morning.’ He kissed her again and she was sure that her heart would beat out of her chest with happiness.

  ‘I can’t wait.’ She took a step back and almost had to physically restrain herself from jumping back into his arms.

  ‘Oh, there’s something in front of your door,’ Nick pointed out. He knelt down and picked up a small, box-shaped package. He looked worried as he glanced around at the apartment hallway. ‘Can people just walk in and drop things off? That’s not very safe.’

  Holly focused in on the package and smiled, recognising the by now familiar shape. It had been a while …

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ she told him. ‘I have a … secret admirer, so to speak.’

  Nick crinkled his brow. ‘A secret admirer? I don’t like the sound of that. I’ll fight the guy off if I have to,’ he joked, and Holly burst out laughing.

  ‘No, not like that. I already know what this is. These boxes arrive from time to time, when I have stuff going on in my life.’ Quickly she told him the story of her charm bracelet, and showed him the individual charms that graced her wrist.

  ‘And you don’t know who sends them?’

  She blushed. ‘Well, I have my ideas, of course, but I feel a bit like Cinderella, like I have a fairy godmother.’ She didn’t want to get too deep into her theory about exactly who might be looking out for her from afar; it was information Nick didn’t need to know just yet. Notwithstanding that, it was a deep topic for a first date.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ he asked, studying the package. ‘You have me intrigued. That’s if you don’t mind me seeing it,’ he added quickly.

  ‘Not at all.’ Holly grinned and ripped open the package. Inside was the same lilac box from before. She untied the ribbon and popped open the lid.

  ‘What is it?’ Nick asked, moving closer.

  Holly put a hand to her mouth. She grinned happily. ‘It’s a little dress, made out of silver – look!’

  ‘Wow, your fairy godmother must know you got a job today, a job in fashion,’ Nick said, leaning closer once again to kiss Holly full on the lips. At that moment, all thoughts of charms, fairy godmothers and everything else left her head immediately.

  He was right, though. Her mysterious benefactor must definitely have known about the job and how today had been a very big day for her, a memorable day. But whoever it was, they definitely didn’t know about this, about Nick. Because if they did, they would have forgone the dress charm and instead almost certainly sent a trinket in the shape of a heart engraved with the word ‘love’.

  Chapter 12

  Light crept into Greg’s apartment like a thief and, for once, when it hit his sheets and slowly made its way up to his pillow and rested on his face, he didn’t leap out of bed as if his hair was on fire. Instead he stretched lazily and stared out through the window. With no five a.m. wake-up, he could now sleep in when he worked late the night before. What a novelty, and how civilised, he thought. He glanced at his clock: eight a.m. Sounded about right. He pushed the sheets off and walked over to the window, realising he really had never seen his own neighbourhood during the day.

  However, Karen was still on the corporate schedule, and as she entered the bedroom, stilettos clacking on the wooden floors, it was obvious she was not impressed with his time-clock.

  ‘I hope you aren’t planning on sitting around in your pyjamas all day,’ she commented.

  Greg looked at her. Things around the house had been slightly tense over the last while, and he was sure the remainder of the tension would subside once he popped the question.

  ‘Oh, babe, of course I’m not going to sit in my PJS. Just because I work at home doesn’t mean I’m some sort of bum.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said tersely. ‘Anyway, it would be great if you could pick up my dry-cleaning sometime today. There’s a suit I need for my presentation tomorrow.’

  Greg’s face fell. Not that he minded doing errands and helping out, but it seemed as though Karen had been issuing a lot of these kind of requests since he’d started working from home, as if he had nothing else going on.

  And that wasn’t the case. He had been extremely busy. Not only had he been out and about taking shots for his NYT portfolio, but he had also gone about getting listed on several freelance websites, and had been in touch with a web designer to get going on a company website. He had touched base with a lawyer friend to get the paperwork organised for his newspaper gig, and had sent out numerous emails and made countless phone calls to let everyone in his circle of interest know what he was doing.

  But he wasn’t sure if Karen realised any of that.

  He guessed she was still just getting used to this transition, and finding it hard to adapt. Every couple went through some tough times, but it was the serious ones who persevered. Take his mom and dad for example.

  Greg knew that he had a tendency to put his parents up on a pedestal, but part of it was because he admired their relationship so much. Being an only child, he had grown up as an integral part of their love for each other, and was often a direct witness to their happy marriage and their way of coping with bo
th the good and the bad. There was no denying that his parents had been soulmates. He wanted a love like that for Karen and him, and he had to admit that he felt somewhat troubled by the question that his father had posed to him days earlier, about how he had known that he wanted to spend his entire life with Cristina within minutes of meeting her.

  That hadn’t quite been the case for him, had it? If anything Karen had been the one who’d pursued him, shortly after they were introduced at a charity benefit at the Guggenheim a couple of years back. He remembered being silently impressed by her confidence, not to mention her beauty, but he was so busy with work (which basically ate up every daylight hour), he hadn’t been looking for a relationship.

  But as they had talked about careers and children and school and apartments for years now, the only thing left was to tie the knot. What were they waiting for? Until there was enough money? There never would be enough money, and Greg knew from experience that no matter how hard you planned, nothing in life was ever meant to go perfectly.

  Pondering that thought, he then decided that his parents’ courtship had taken place in a different time, a different era, even. Life today seemed so much more complicated than in years past.

  It was then that he realised that he hadn’t yet answered Karen’s question about the dry-cleaning.

  ‘Of course, honey. It’s no problem. Listen, would you like to meet up for dinner later? I could meet you after work…’

  Karen was already shaking her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I can’t be out late, not when I have an early tomorrow.’

  Greg raised a surprised eyebrow. ‘You never used to mind going out on work nights. We did it plenty when I was at the firm.’

  ‘Yes, but you are no longer at the firm, are you? And I can’t risk messing anything up in case I’m out of a job too.’

  Greg’s smile fell as he watched Karen ready herself to leave for work. She shuffled through file folders and arranged them meticulously in her briefcase. He turned round and went to the closet, intent on getting dressed as soon as possible.

  ‘It’s not like I’m doing nothing around here, and I didn’t lose my job,’ he replied quietly.

  Karen put her briefcase down and walked over to him. She put her arms around his waist.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t be like that. I’ve just been a bit stressed recently. Really, I apologise. These last few weeks, there’s been so much going on, what with this and then everything at work, and the holidays…’

  He turned in her arms. ‘I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I’m the one who sprung this on you, after all.’

  She chuckled. ‘I’ll give you that much…’

  He bent to kiss her, and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the smile that graced her beautiful face. ‘I promise you, Karen, that I will never, ever not tell you about something I am planning. Ever again. And I promise I am dedicated to making a go of this photography business. I promise you are not in this alone.’

  Karen gave a small nod and Greg hoped against hope that she believed him.

  ‘We’re partners, you and me. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She leaned close to him, before eventually pulling back. ‘You have a good day, and I’ll see you later, all right?’

  ‘No problem.’

  Having got dressed and made coffee, Greg switched on his laptop and began editing some photos he had taken the day before. He had gone through five rolls of film in three hours. When he was out and about with his camera, the time just seemed to fly by. Whereas when he was trading, he had turned into a clock-watcher, and it had seemed as if getting to noon took the whole day.

  He sat back for a moment and admired his work; all pictures of gleaming New York skyscrapers, but shot from slightly off-kilter angles, as was his signature. He had to admit, he thought they were pretty OK – very much along the lines of his Flatiron shot. No use for the NYT, but maybe he could shop these around to a couple of galleries and see if there were any bites.

  Gradually, his thoughts began to drift again to how he could really wow Karen when he asked her to marry him. He didn’t want this proposal to be anything ordinary or humdrum like a ring hidden in an oyster or a champagne glass; he wanted to stage a crazy romantic gesture that she would remember her whole life. Nothing obvious either, more something that could integrate seamlessly into her day. Karen was very intuitive and he didn’t want to do anything that would make her suspicious. Nor did he want to do anything corny, as he remembered her saying how she hated public restaurant proposals, or aeroplanes writing the request in the sky. She called such things tacky and clichéd.

  So it had to be romantic and private, but also something so special and original that she would never forget it. Something they would tell their kids about, Greg thought with a smile.

  The proposal to end all other proposals.

  But what?

  * * *

  Later, at the office, Karen shuffled through some print ads from the previous year’s spring marketing blitz. The theme had been ‘Magic’, and the department had hoped to tie it into an event with Disney, but they had pulled out at the last minute, though unfortunately after the flyers promoting the theme had already been mass-printed.

  The whole thing had left her and her colleagues looking foolish, and as a result they had already started on next year’s campaign in the hope of redeeming themselves.

  Amy, one of the copywriters, stopped by her desk.

  ‘Trying not to repeat that mess?’ She motioned to the old print ad. ‘Why is it out?’

  ‘A reminder,’ Karen answered, ‘to never let it happen again.’ She sighed and pulled her makeup bag out of her desk. As she touched up her face, Amy picked up Greg’s photo, which was situated beside her PC screen.

  ‘So how’s handsome and rich doing?’ she asked with a grin.

  ‘Still handsome, at least,’ Karen said ruefully, putting her makeup bag back in the drawer and slamming it a little too hard.

  ‘Oh?’ Amy crossed her arms. ‘What gives?’

  Karen began neatening the pile of paper on her desk. ‘He quit Wall Street. Now he’s going to be a full-time photographer.’ She looked hard at the papers she was straightening, avoiding her colleague’s gaze.

  ‘Oh my … Well, that’s a big change. But I think you mentioned before that he was pretty good at it. Didn’t he have some kind of exhibition a while back?’

  ‘Yes, he is very good at it…’ Karen trailed off, and picked up the crossword she was working on over coffee that morning but hadn’t finished. She was sorry now she’d made Greg’s so-called ‘exhibition’ out to be something more than it was at the time. It was, after all, one photograph. Just one.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’ Amy persevered.

  ‘No problem.’ Karen picked up a pencil and began filling in the remaining clues.

  ‘Why do you do these anyway?’

  ‘Because it keeps my brain active…’ she replied flippantly, but the truth was she had always felt somewhat inferior to the people in her and Greg’s – well, mostly his parents’ – circle. The society types with their rich and privileged silver-spoon backgrounds. Karen had always felt a burning desire to be part of that world, to be known as smart as well as beautiful, and perfectly put-together at all times, no matter what. And she’d been succeeding too.

  But now Greg’s out-of-the-blue career change was moving the goalposts. Everything she’d been working towards seemed to have taken a big step backwards since he’d told her.

  Now, she thought irritably, she would have to introduce him as an out-of-work artist type rather than the successful broker he once was – a second-generation Upper East Side moneymaker. Having finished the crossword, she slipped it into her bag and checked the time. ‘So are we ready for this presentation or what?’

  ‘OK, OK, I’m going!’ Amy grinned and gave Karen a sideways glance. ‘And correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought it was the artist who was supposed to b
e temperamental, not the girlfriend?’

  Chapter 13

  Holly made the short walk from Danny’s school towards the store, passing the Christmas shoppers and people lugging fir trees through the streets. Fairy lights were everywhere and people were rushing about trying to get Christmas preparations done. It made her think about her own family festivities when she was a child, when her dad would finally close the hardware store the night before Christmas.

  She had always complained that he should close early like the other shops did on the street, but he would remind her that a hardware store was sometimes the saving grace for someone’s Christmas. Last-minute gifts for a husband or father, light bulbs, fuses, electrical tape: these were the things that held Christmas together, and who was he to deny the public that?

  And he had been right, of course; there were always the late stragglers arriving in a panic because their fairy lights wouldn’t work or they had forgotten to buy a tree stand, or because Uncle Charlie was coming to visit and he’d always talked about wanting a cordless drill.

  Finally, around six p.m. on Christmas Eve, Seamus would shut the lights off at the hardware store and walk the few blocks home, where Holly and Eileen would be waiting eagerly for him. The turkey would be resting on top of the stove, flipped-over plates covering all the side dishes to keep them warm. Her mother would have a Bing Crosby or Johnny Mathis record on the turntable. All the lights would be dimmed or off, so that their own Christmas tree with its multicoloured lights would cast a warm glow around the small room. They had no fireplace in their house; that had been walled up years ago, like most of the fireplaces in the brownstones on their street. So they would compensate with a trio of candles on a make-do mantelpiece in the dining room. After her dad had gone upstairs to get changed, he would come down in a fresh shirt and tie to carve the turkey. And, even though it was only the three of them, they still all dressed up, and her mother polished the silver and unearthed the best china. After dinner, Holly would be sent to bed, under the threat that Santa might not come if she was up too late. She would hang her stocking with a thumbtack on the only bookshelf in the living room and go up to bed, stopping on each step to plead with her parents to stay up just a bit longer – but the pleading glances never worked.