Something from Tiffany’s

by Melissa Hill

  Rachel picked up the plastic hospital bag and settled back on the bed. Taking everything out, she set Gary’s wallet on a nearby bureau. His jacket was dirty and bloodstained from the head wound, as were his jeans, so they needed to go to the laundry. Rachel checked the pockets of each for receipts, or anything else that might be destroyed in the wash. From his jeans pocket, she pulled out a list, which, judging by what was scribbled on it, must be her boyfriend’s Christmas shopping list.

  In true Gary fashion, Rachel thought, smiling as she read through it, there was one column for names and one column for corresponding stores, presumably where he’d either bought or intended to buy the gifts. Hmm . . . where was he planning to buy her Christmas present, she couldn’t help but wonder. Gary was somewhat evasive when it came to his family, and she was interested to try and figure out his relationship with various family members by the kind of gifts he was buying for them. Then, immediately conscious that she was prying, she set the list down on the nightstand beside her. Switching on the TV, she turned off the bedside lamp and took another taste of her wine, this time with something more akin to a swig than a sip.

  She glanced towards the list again, her interest also piqued about what Gary had in mind for her. Oh what the hell, she reasoned, reaching for it, it was a list of stores, not actual gifts. So what could it hurt?

  Before Rachel knew it, the list was back in her hands and she had clicked the lamp on to have a better look. At first glance, she didn’t see her name written down anywhere. At a second more careful look, she still didn’t see it. Frowning, she put down the list.

  Then it hit her. What was wrong with her? Of course her name wasn’t on the list. Gary would no doubt have known exactly what he wanted to get her for Christmas, so why would he have written it down?

  With that, Rachel poured herself a second glass, and it was a bit more of a generous helping than before. It was essential really; she was, after all, alone and worried in a New York hotel room on Christmas Eve.

  Going back to the bed, she climbed under the covers this time, then gently, one by one, plopped the gifts she’d bought for Gary onto the floor next to the bed. First went the negligee, next went the heavy box with the leather motorbike trousers in it, and third went the handcrafted wallet monogrammed with his initials. And then went her mind, inevitably back to wondering what Gary had got for her.

  Her gaze moved to the pile of bags not more than five feet away from her. Inside one of those was her gift, unwrapped.

  Rachel knew Gary must have bought it today because she’d already searched the room and his empty suitcase in the hope of finding some clue of what she should expect to get from him. It was silly and she hated herself for it, but she just couldn’t help it.

  ‘No, I’m not going to look,’ she said out loud, grabbing the television remote and starting to click through the channels. Cinemax, MoreMAX, Pay-Per-View . . . some of the show titles looked rather intriguing. ‘Yikes, who watches skin-flicks on Christmas Eve?’ she asked herself rhetorically and kept clicking until she came upon It’s a Wonderful Life right around mid-point.

  Just perfect.

  By the time George was hearing bells ringing and starting to believe, Rachel had the empty wine bottle in one hand and Gary’s list in the other. With tears streaming down her face (as they did every time she watched that film), she headed without a second thought to the couch, where she promptly started matching gift bags with the names and stores on the list.

  With each matching set she found, she moved the corresponding bag to a pile. By the time she’d come to the end of the list there was one bag from Bergdorf Goodman, with men’s clothes and some expensive-looking cufflinks in it (for Gary’s brother perhaps?), and, conspicuously, one small but gloriously familiar blue gift bag.

  ‘Oh my goodness . . . Tiffany’s!’ she cried aloud. Her heart pounding in her chest, she checked the list again, turning the paper over and over in her hand. Nothing.

  Could this be hers? Had Gary really bought her something from Tiffany’s?

  He must have!

  Rachel’s eyes sparkled even brighter than the festive lights outside. Checking her watch, she swallowed hard.

  Well, it was officially Christmas now, wasn’t it? Holding her breath, she peeked inside the bag.

  Only to find the world-famous little blue box.

  Chapter 4

  Unable to sleep any longer, Ethan got up at dawn, and was standing at the window watching the sun come up over Central Park and the surrounding buildings. In fact he was up before Daisy on Christmas morning for the first time since she’d been old enough to be excited about it. Snow was gently falling, and, thanks to the Plaza’s in-room facilities, he was sipping freshly made coffee. It was a picture-perfect New York Christmas morning, even if he was yawning after tossing and turning all night.

  Ethan thought again about Daisy’s mother and smiled a little as the coffee aroma took him back in time. Jane wasn’t enamoured of his habit and had always insisted that if he had to drink coffee, it should be organic or nothing. In turn all Daisy’s baby food had been home-made and, yes, organic too. Jane had been an amazing mum, he thought, and he had a healthy, happy daughter because of her.

  Happy? His train of thought halted at the word. Sure, Daisy was generally a happy child, but it still seemed to him that there was so much missing, so much he wasn’t giving her. Ethan ran a hand through his thick brown hair and felt his eyes fall gently shut as he thought about the three years he had spent alone, and how many nights he had sat with Daisy and cuddled her until she could fall asleep, her last words always about missing her mummy. Those instances had become less frequent as the months passed, but still there was nothing Ethan wanted more than to be a family again.

  It was best for Daisy. Not to mention that he really did love Vanessa. Yes, he had been hesitant in the early days, but over the course of the last year they had grown especially close, and now he was certain she was the perfect person to turn their little unit into a real family.

  He’d met her at a book fair, of all places. His good friend Brian, a former work colleague at the university at which Ethan lectured, was now a highly successful and well-respected novelist. Just over a year ago, after much coaxing and cajoling, Brian had convinced Ethan that leaving Daisy with her grandparents for three days while they made the trip to Frankfurt did not make him a neglectful parent.

  ‘After all, mate, it’s basically a business trip,’ Brian reassured him. ‘We’re going to talk about my book this time, but we’ll be going for yours next year. Maybe this’ll inspire you to get your arse in gear and start writing that Great British Novel,’ he teased, referring to Ethan’s latent ambitions. ‘Not as great as my own, mind, but I’m sure there’s room for us both on the Booker shortlist.’

  Ethan couldn’t really argue with this (the reason for the trip, that is; he had no illusions about getting anywhere near any list, Booker or otherwise), so in the end he decided to go along.

  And then on day two of the fair he saw her: the not classically beautiful, but poised and immaculately groomed blonde who was heading their way.

  Ethan had caught her eye a couple of times as he and Brian browsed through the stands, and found himself intrigued by her calm self-possession. When she first approached them, Ethan suspected she might be one of Brian’s many literary ‘groupies’, but gathered from the polite yet familiar conversation that ensued that she and Brian had crossed paths before at publishing events. It turned out that she too worked in publishing and was senior editor of a literary imprint at a major London publishing house. The next thing Ethan knew, the three of them were having lunch, and he discovered that Vanessa lived in the vicinity of Teddington, not far from his home in Richmond. And not long after that, just the two of them were having dinner, at first there in Frankfurt and then back in London. He enjoyed her company and lively conversation; they had a shared appreciation of great literature and the arts, and he also admired the single-minded determination wit
h which she ran her professional life, having worked her way up in a highly competitive field. And still her ambition didn’t end there. Vanessa wanted the most respected and accomplished literary authors for her list, and laughingly informed Ethan that her original intention in approaching them at the fair was to see about poaching Brian from his existing publishing house.

  She was so different from Jane – she was focused and driven as opposed to having Jane’s relaxed approach to life – that Ethan surprised himself by first becoming intrigued by her and then eventually falling for her completely. Sometimes she made his head spin with her broad and intricate knowledge of travel, food and wine, as well as the seemingly effortless confidence with which she approached everything. This self-assurance was one of the first things that had captivated him, but there was also a somewhat enigmatic side to her that had made him want to get closer.

  Still, he had waited almost six months before introducing her to Daisy. Just because he was moving on, there was no reason to force his daughter to do the same, he reasoned.

  When the big meeting did finally occur, Ethan arranged for Vanessa to meet the two of them after Daisy’s weekly Saturday dance class. He had done his best to ensure it was light and informal, and to keep the focus on Daisy, but he wasn’t fooling his wise and perceptive daughter. As the three of them walked along by the Thames eating ice cream, Daisy kept giving her father the same look her mother had always had. Ethan called it the sideways-squinty-eyed look, one that often appeared on his daughter’s face during poorly disguised homework bribing and early-to-bed coaxing.

  Over time, though, Daisy came around. She loved it when Vanessa read to her; storytelling was one of her favourite things. She especially loved Vanessa’s accent, a rich combination of a decade and a half spent in cultured London coupled with the lilt of her Irish roots. It was something that at the beginning had greatly appealed to Ethan too, although Vanessa liked to insist that fifteen years of living in England had eradicated most of her native brogue.

  He always wished that Vanessa would read more than just one bedtime story at a time, but reminded himself that it was different for people who’d never had children of their own, and no doubt she would gradually get a feel for that kind of thing.

  He should know; he had never considered himself the doting-father type but had fallen completely in love with his baby daughter when she wrapped her tiny newborn hand around his index finger in the delivery suite. And when afterwards he’d cuddled her fragile little body close to his bare chest, skin to skin, Ethan had given her his heart there and then.

  Given time it would be the same for Vanessa, he thought; Vanessa and Daisy would share a moment that would cement their relationship. It couldn’t be forced. It would probably happen once they all lived together, when they spent time together like a real family. Sadly, due to Vanessa’s inability to conceive (something she’d disclosed frankly to Ethan early on in the relationship) there would be no additions to that family, but he was fine with that too.

  As daylight gradually crept across the park, Ethan lifted his head, wondering how long he had actually been standing there daydreaming. The sun was peeking through the clouds, and despite the brief flurry of snow a clear sky was visible in the distance. Ethan thought that this was a good omen seeing as it had been overcast and grey in the city since they arrived. Today was different for a reason, he realised; the powers-that-be must be smiling on him and his intentions . . .

  ‘Merry Christmas, darling.’

  At the sound of the voice nearby, Ethan jumped, and coffee splashed on his bare chest through the opening of his bathrobe.

  ‘Oops!’ Vanessa laughed, coming up alongside him. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she rushed to the bathroom, and in a flash she was back with a cool washcloth and a fresh robe.

  ‘It’s my own fault. I was miles away,’ he replied, smiling at her. ‘Anyway, it’s cold by now.’

  ‘Why so jumpy? Still thinking about that accident yesterday? I’m sure the guy is fine.’

  Holding the cloth to his chest, he stood there in his boxers, assuring her she had just caught him in a daydream. ‘No, no, it’s fine, honestly. I just didn’t expect anyone else to be up so early.’ Ethan handed her back the cloth, and put on the dry robe. ‘Join me for a fresh cup?’

  She smiled. ‘I’d love one.’

  Ethan moved to the cafetière and poured a steaming cup of coffee for the woman he was about to propose to. Coffee pot in hand, he noticed he wasn’t nervous as such, but not quite his usual calm, cool self, either.

  Evidently so did Vanessa. Taking the cup from him, she put her other hand on his before he had the chance to let go. Ethan looked up to see some sort of knowing look in her eyes, as if she could guess exactly what he was thinking. It shot right through him. Resisting taking a step backwards, he knew he must be looking startled again, because she seemed to quell the slightest smile as she turned away.

  Goodness, she knows! He wondered how that could be. Maybe she’d noticed that one of her rings had gone missing? A little while back, he had secretly purloined one of Vanessa’s costume rings from her jewellery box so that he could establish the correct ring size.

  ‘So, as I was saying, merry Christmas,’ Vanessa repeated, reaching forward to kiss him. ‘It’s so wonderful being here in New York on Christmas morning with you and Daisy. It means a lot – especially when I know how important it is to you two, because of Jane, I mean.’

  She was so perceptive, and always so generous and understanding about Jane’s memory that Ethan felt himself fall in love with her all over again. Living in another woman’s shadow would undoubtedly be a challenge for some, but thankfully this didn’t seem to be the case with Vanessa. Well, Ethan decided, even if she did have any qualms – hidden or otherwise – those would surely be erased once he produced that little blue box.

  ‘Thank you for asking me to come with you,’ she went on, her voice slightly hoarse. ‘You were right: New York at Christmas time really is something special.’

  Ah, that was it, Ethan realised with some relief. Vanessa had no idea what was coming. It was just the Christmas thing and she was emotional about that.

  ‘Me too, and I’m so glad you’re here. This is a really special time for us, for all of us.’ He paused. The light coming through the window caught the hazel in her eyes, and the weight of what he was about to do took his breath away for a moment. ‘I love you too, Vanessa. I do. I mean, I . . .’ he stammered, recognising the Freudian slip in those two words. ‘I mean, I do love you.’

  She smiled and gently rested her hand on the side of his face.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ Daisy squealed from the doorway connecting to her bedroom, as if poised for a grand entrance. She raced towards them, leaping and landing on the big double bed with a flourish. ‘Let’s open our presents!’

  ‘How about good-morning greetings and some breakfast first?’ Ethan replied, his tone half-scolding.

  ‘Yes, you’ll need to get your strength up for all the presents you’ll be opening,’ Vanessa chimed in.

  ‘So do you,’ the little girl replied with a demure smile, and Ethan gave her a warning look, which made her giggle.

  ‘OK, let’s get some room service organised,’ he said, practically diving for the menu in order to change the subject.

  ‘Hot chocolate. I suppose that’s our first priority?’ Vanessa teased, sitting down beside Daisy.

  ‘That’s not very healthy, you know, Vanessa,’ she replied solemnly and Ethan and Vanessa shared a smile. His girlfriend was fully aware of Daisy’s frequent bouts of anxiety and Ethan hoped that once they were all together as a family she’d feel more secure and such tendencies would wear off.

  ‘But it’s Christmas morning!’ Vanessa insisted with a grin. ‘I’m sure one day of indulgence won’t kill us.’ Ethan couldn’t help but wince at her unfortunate choice of phrase, but luckily Daisy didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘You’re right.
Can I have an iced cinnamon roll too, Dad? I love iced cinnamon rolls.’

  ‘You can have whatever you want, poppet. Any requests, Vanessa?’

  She shook her head. ‘What Daisy’s having sounds good to me.’

  ‘OK then, hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls all round,’ Ethan said, picking up the phone to order.

  Half an hour later, the three of them were sipping hot drinks and sitting around the little tree they’d bought and decorated especially for the occasion. Daisy tucked her legs up beneath her on the floor and licked the remains of the icing off her fingers.

  ‘All right then, let’s see what have we here,’ Ethan began, handing a brightly wrapped package to Daisy.

  ‘No, Vanessa first,’ she insisted, grinning coyly.

  ‘You’re in an excitable mood today, even for Christmas morning,’ Ethan said, giving his daughter his own, more subtle version of the sideways-squinty-eyed look. ‘Go ahead and open yours first, OK?’

  She gave a big, exaggerated sigh. ‘OK, Dad.’

  ‘Yes, please do,’ Vanessa laughed. ‘I think you’re going to like that one, or at least I hope you will. It’s from me.’

  ‘Great.’ Daisy sat cross-legged as she tore open the wrapping. A collection of soft-cover books landed in her lap. ‘Animal stories?’ she said, looking at the covers of a Thornton Burgess story collection.

  ‘Yes. I had those when I was a little girl. They’re just at your reading level, so you can read them to yourself at bedtime.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Daisy said flatly, twirling one of her curls with her index finger. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘But one of us can still read them to you too, honey,’ Ethan put in quickly, picking up on her obvious disappointment.

  ‘Vanessa’s turn now,’ Daisy said easily, as if the last comment had gone in one ear and out the other. Typical.

  Ethan looked at his daughter and smiled. At least she was still excited about the proposal, more so than he could have hoped. Giving her a surreptitious wink, he said, ‘I do believe you’re right,’ and Daisy giggled with delight and clapped her hands.