Bea was staring at him and Jake’s heart sank. Everything had been going so well …
‘Jake Steinmann, that was the worst line I’ve ever heard!’
She was smiling! He hadn’t blown it! ‘I tried to scoop it back inside my head where it sounded so much better, but it snuck out.’
‘Good job we have The Pact to protect us from any misunderstandings, eh?’ Bea said.
‘Yeah. Phew.’
As Jake turned back to look over Bea’s head towards the sentry-like skyscrapers stretching away into the distance, he suddenly felt flat. The Pact was still a firm focus for her and her mention of it reminded him of how impossible his deepening feelings for her were.
Nevertheless, as they spent time pointing out buildings and neighbourhoods from one thousand and fifty feet above street level, Jake couldn’t help but compare Bea to Jessica. When he was with Jess, he scrutinised every word she said. It was as if he had lost his trust in her ability to tell the truth. Consequently, every conversation was a verbal minefield of conspiracy theories and over-analysis. But with Bea, the only words he occasionally mistrusted were his own, the relative newness of their friendly relationship heightening his resolve to avoid saying the wrong thing. He laughed when he was with her: she made him smile and wasn’t afraid to mock him at will. With Bea he felt he could be himself.
The fact that Jess had laid her cards on the table and wanted to rekindle their relationship confused matters, but so did Bea’s insistence that they adhere to The Pact. There were no answers to be found today, Jake decided. Instead, there was only the mandate to spend time with somebody who made him smile. After the week he’d endured, this was just what he needed.
‘Did I tell you I’m planning a bachelor party for my brother?’ Jake asked later, when he and Bea were munching salmon teriyaki with multi-grain rice and cucumber kimchi in a Korean restaurant near the Empire State Building.
‘No. How did you get roped into that one? Didn’t you learn your lesson with the engagement party?’
‘You’d think I would have. Thing is, I figured Ed would never get around to planning it and his friends have been bugging him already over what he wanted to do. Being close to Christmas I knew it would be hard to find a date to suit all the guys if he’d left it any later. So, I stepped in.’
Bea took a sip of lemon ginseng green tea. ‘What are you planning?’
‘Can’t divulge specifics, I’m afraid. You are, after all, too close to the opposition.’
‘I won’t be going to Rosie’s hen do.’
‘You will. I’m pretty sure she’s put you on the list.’
‘Oh – wow. That’s lovely …’ The news seemed to impress Bea. Jake congratulated himself on another smile earned. ‘Just promise me you won’t take Ed to a strip club.’
Jake almost choked on his Korean beer. ‘I did not expect that to be the next thing out of your mouth.’
‘It’s a valid request,’ Bea replied, feigning innocence. ‘If and when Stew ties the knot I know his mates from the UK will try to drag him somewhere seedy for his stag night. It’s just not very nice.’
This fascinated Jake. Beyond the usual male-female acceptance of such things, why did Bea care where he took his brother? ‘When you say “not very nice”, what do you mean?’
‘Nothing, Dr Steinmann.’ She wagged her chopstick at him. ‘It’s a personal thing. I just think there are better ways for bridegrooms-to-be to celebrate.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Will that confession cost me on your bill?’
Jake laughed. ‘I’ll give you that as a free sample. And don’t worry: Ed would be bored to death at a strip joint. His bachelor party will revolve around sport and liquor. Strictly old-school partying. That OK with you, Mom?’
Bea made a swipe for him with her napkin. ‘Cheek. When do you think the parties will take place?’
‘Just after Thanksgiving, I guess. After the family commitments are over and before the holiday season arrives. It’s a tight window, but we’ll make it.’
‘And you don’t mind organising everything? I mean, not that I think you can’t do it: the engagement party was wonderful. I just wonder if you’d rather be celebrating with Ed than herding the rest of the partygoers around.’
Bea’s concern that Jake might miss out on the fun of Ed’s party was touching – and another check in her favour. ‘I’ll be better having a job to do. Besides, I owe it to Rosie to look after my brother and get him home without being arrested.’
‘Then I reckon Ed will be in safe hands.’
That evening, as he relaxed with a beer at Ed and Rosie’s apartment after dinner, Jake was still smiling. He noticed the amused glances exchanged between his brother and Rosie and, after spotting it several times, challenged them.
‘What’s with the looks?’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Jake.’ Rosie Duncan was about as good at feigning innocence as her fiancé was at resisting cracking jokes.
‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Psychiatrists see everything.’
‘Can we help it if we like seeing you happy?’ Ed asked, handing his brother a fresh bottle.
‘Touching, bro, but I don’t believe you.’
Rosie sighed and sat on the arm of the couch. ‘We were just speculating about who might be responsible for that smile of yours.’
‘I’m high on life.’
‘You’re fooling nobody, Jakey-boy. You’ve seen Bea again, haven’t you?’
Jake lifted his eyes to heaven. ‘Man, not this again.’
‘We’re just happy for you,’ Rosie protested. ‘You have to admit you’ve been smiling all evening. And it’s lovely to see. I’d just like it to become a permanent feature for you again, that’s all.’
‘I appreciate your goodwill. And for the record, I did see Bea today. We waited in a queue that most intelligent people would have given up on and went to the top of the Empire State. Then we shared Korean food and walked up to Times Square. A New York tourist double-whammy. It was fun.’
Rosie and Ed were sharing that look again. Jake laughed and took a swig of beer. He disliked feeling like a biological organism being studied in a Petri dish, but beyond that it was good to feel those closest to him wanted him to be happy. For all their unashamed meddling in his new single life to this point, Ed and Rosie cared for Jake and he had come to appreciate again the importance of having family close by. When he had lived in San Francisco he’d always felt a certain sadness that such a considerable distance existed between him and his loved ones. He’d made friends easily on the West Coast, but nothing could rival the times when he saw his family. Thanksgivings and Christmases had become sacred times when he could reconnect with those who knew him best. This year he was looking forward to being in New York for these celebrations, rather than rushing with half of America to get home in time for the holidays.
‘Bea is a lovely person,’ Rosie said, draining the last drop of red wine from her glass. ‘I like her a lot.’
Me too, Jake thought. And that’s the problem …
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Hudson River Books, 8th Avenue, Brooklyn
November arrived and with it the busiest retail time of the year was ushered in. It never ceased to amaze Bea how trade at the bookstore was boosted at this time. It was as if a switch had been flicked which unleashed a torrent of customers into Brooklyn. Every store, bar, restaurant and café on and around 8th Avenue heaved with festive shoppers, while a red and white army of Santas invaded every corner, the ringing of hand bells becoming as familiar a neighbourhood sound as the honking taxi horns and passing aeroplanes heading to John F. Kennedy International Airport.
As if to add to the holiday feel, this year the first snow fell during the second week of November: just enough to add a delicious dusting to the Brooklyn streets, making the coloured lights in every shop window twinkle a little more.
Bea loved looking at the snowy scene through the windows of Hudson River Books as she worked with Imelda and Russ to transform the interio
r into a sparkling winter wonderland. Imelda had brought length upon length of semi-opaque chiffon with a subtle sheen like that of a soap bubble. Draped from the ceiling over a net of tiny white lights, it gave the impression that the whole bookstore was nestled beneath a covering of ice and snow. Russ sourced a box of white feather boas and laid them along the bottom of the shelves and bookcases to resemble a fresh snow fall, while Bea sprinkled silver sequins along the edge of each shelf. This caused a magical shower of sparkles to fall whenever customers pulled books from the shelves – much to their delight. Imelda and Bea hung strings of white tissue paper pompoms in the window and down from the ceiling throughout the bookstore, while Russ made a forest of book-print paper trees, amongst the branches of which nestled delicate brown and red papercraft robins. White and blue fairy lights were everywhere, reflecting in frosted baubles made of palest pink, green and blue glass. As a final touch, a beautiful silver fretwork star hung over the counter.
Bea was delighted with the finished effect, a reaction shared by every customer that entered the store. The atmosphere was vibrant and happy, and even though queues at the counter were longer than at any other time of year, the shoppers seemed less inclined to complain. This might have had something to do with the plates of free cookies that were available on the coffee bar and the large jars of brightly wrapped sweets placed at strategic intervals where queuing customers might pass.
Seeing their plans realised so breathtakingly had a positive effect on Russ and Bea’s friendship, too. After a month of near deadlock following his declaration of love, Russ had begun to mellow towards her, but the weekend where they dressed the store finally broke through the barriers he had built around himself. In the middle of their preparations, he had walked over to Bea and hugged her, wordlessly, for a long time. When he finally let go, his rueful smile was like those he’d given her before the misunderstanding happened.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too. I never meant to hurt you, Russ.’
‘So, let’s just forget it ever happened and move on, yeah?’
Bea was relieved to hear this. After that things still weren’t quite as easy between them as before they had fallen out, but they were a lot closer than in recent weeks. For that, Bea was thankful.
The demands of the store meant that Bea didn’t see Jake again that month. They shared the occasional phone conversation to catch up with each other, but both were necessarily preoccupied with their respective businesses. It amused Bea no end that Jake should experience a Christmas rush in his line of work, but he explained that the approaching holiday season brought with it many problems for people. His clients were in a hurry to try and deal with their issues before doing battle with the demands of the season in the same way that Bea’s customers rushed to settle their gift lists before Hanukkah and Christmas arrived.
‘This time of year often magnifies the cracks in relationships because we try so hard to adhere to an idealised view of what the holidays should be,’ Jake told her.
Bea could appreciate how talking to Jake could help his clients make sense of their worries and concerns. Even though they were too busy to meet, Bea looked forward to Jake’s calls, the sound of his voice brightening her day no matter how stressed she felt. She hoped that she did the same for him, enjoying the sound of his laughter as they spoke.
Otis had taken to calling her, too: usually late at night when Bea was unwinding with a book at home after a long day working at the bookstore. This new development was taking some time to get used to, but Bea was impressed that he never once pushed her for an answer to his proposal, although he did, of course, talk often of seeing her soon. Instead he asked about her day and shared news of the art sales his gallery was handling. As November drew on, Bea could feel her defences softening towards him. In the last week she had even caught herself looking forward to his call. Their late night discussions began to remind her of those they had shared in the early days of their relationship, back when everything Otis Greene said to her seemed to have been written in the stars. She made sure she held a healthy dose of cynicism in reserve this time, not wanting to make the same mistake as she had then; but as the days passed, Otis was proving himself in ways she would never have thought possible.
A week before Thanksgiving weekend, Bea received an elegant invitation to Rosie’s hen party. The celebration would last all day, beginning with relaxing massages, facials and a champagne breakfast at an exclusive Upper West Side day spa, followed by a sumptuous afternoon tea at a quirky British teashop and dinner at a gorgeous penthouse restaurant overlooking Central Park. The day was pure Rosie and Bea didn’t hesitate in accepting.
‘It’s going to be great,’ Rosie said, when Bea called her on the day the invitation arrived. ‘My cousin Harri is coming over from England to be with us and Zac’s looking after the twins so that Marnie can come.’
‘How are the babies doing?’
‘Really well. They’re gorgeous little girls. Mae is the most vocal at the moment and Maia is the cutest thing. Zac can’t stop talking about them when he brings our flower deliveries, although he’s like a zombie from the sleepless nights, poor bloke. Be warned: Marnie will bring a bagful of photos so make sure you’re comfortable before you ask to see them.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
The excitement in Rosie’s voice was palpable. ‘I’m so glad you can come, Bea. A good natter is long overdue: I want to hear all your news …’
On the morning of Rosie’s hen party, Bea arrived at the Upper West Side day spa and was ushered into a beautiful waiting lounge, where three women were chatting. Everything in the room was white: from the walls and wide sofas to the thick natural fibre matting beneath her feet. Huge spherical paper lanterns hung from the high ceiling and folds of white voile at the long windows shielded the room from view of the street. Bea raised her hand in greeting, a little nervous of meeting a group of people she didn’t know but was about to spend the day with.
‘Hi, I’m Bea. Nice to meet you.’
One of the women stood to kiss Bea’s cheek. Her blonde hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and she was dressed in a loose white shirt and skin-tight black jeans. ‘Hi Bea, I’m Evie. This is Catriona and Kirsty.’
‘How do you know Rosie?’ Catriona asked, her bright smile instantly putting Bea’s nerves at rest.
‘My brother’s partner Celia introduced us,’ Bea replied. ‘We’ve become good friends recently.’
Evie grinned. ‘Oh we know Celia. Everybody does.’
‘Rosie designed our wedding flowers,’ Kirsty said. She was pretty and her smile lit up her features when she spoke. ‘For all three of us. We all got on so well that we’ve kept in touch.’
It said a lot about Rosie’s passion for her job that half of her hen party guests were former customers she had struck up friendships with. As they settled down to wait for the bride-to-be, Rosie arrived, accompanied by Marnie and another woman whose red curly hair was almost the same shade as Bea’s.
‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ Rosie grinned. ‘We had to wait for a certain new mum to say goodbye to her babies.’
‘They’re still so tiny,’ Marnie protested, her deep pink bunches bobbling with indignation. ‘It feels like I’ve abandoned them.’
Evie hugged Marnie. ‘I was exactly the same with my boy, don’t worry. Just think of the champagne waiting for you.’
Marnie brightened a little. ‘That is a little consolation.’
‘Ladies, may I present my cousin, Harri.’ Rosie put her hands on the redheaded woman’s shoulders. ‘She’s a Brit like Bea and I, so we have a real transatlantic gathering.’
‘Hi,’ Harri smiled, and Bea was struck by the family resemblance between her and Rosie.
‘Is Celia joining us?’ Bea asked Rosie.
‘She’s coming for dinner. Unfortunately her editor scheduled an important meeting today and she can’t get out of it. She sends her profuse apologies and has sent us
great champagne, so I think we’ll forgive her.’
A startlingly handsome male consultant arrived, clad completely in white, and led them through to a beech-panelled changing room that smelled of patchouli and rose. Enormous white towelling robes, white fluffy towels and comfortable slippers waited for each of them in the lockers, together with unbleached cotton tote bags to carry their belongings and baskets of expensive toiletries for use after treatments. Soon, they were padding through to an elegant room with a small infinity pool and fresh water fountain at its centre. Pale woven wicker recliners with soft white cotton cushions were arranged around the room and gentle Oriental music drifted serenely in the air.
‘This is heaven,’ Harri breathed, taking it all in. ‘You’re going to have to drag me away from here.’
A personal schedule had been prepared for each of them, with treatment times, rest periods and details of the spa’s facilities. Bea loved that the day spa had gone to the trouble of printing each guest’s name at the top of the schedules: the kind of attention to detail that was highly frivolous but designed to make each person feel special.
‘Would you like your breakfast served here?’ the therapist asked.
‘That would be lovely,’ said Rosie, amused by the rapt expression on Marnie’s face. ‘Marnie, you’re dreadful.’
‘I’m sleep-deprived and sex-starved,’ Marnie replied, admiring the beautifully pert backside of the therapist as he walked away. ‘This is the best therapy I’ve had in months.’
Breakfast consisted of fresh fruit, wafer-thin folds of deli meats, exquisite flaky pastries, green tea and a huge bottle of champagne on ice. Rosie’s friends pulled several of the wicker recliners together around the low table and quickly descended upon the feast set before them. After breakfast, Evie, Kirsty and Catriona went to their first treatments of the day, while Rosie, Bea, Harri and Marnie lay on the recliners to chat.
‘I’m looking forward to the sea salt and rosemary massage,’ Bea confessed. ‘It sounds so indulgent.’
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