‘I’ll take the DART and have dinner ready.’
Sharon’s eyes lit up. ‘Yum. What’s on the menu?’
‘Wait and see,’ Krystie teased.
‘No problem. It has to be better than anything in the freezer.’
‘I guarantee it.’
Sharon frowned. ‘Am I supposed to leave you alone with sharp knives and a hot cooker?’
‘It’s fine,’ Krystie assured her with a smile. ‘I always get warning signals when a fit is coming on, you know that.’
Sharon checked her watch. ‘Okay, then. I must run. I’ve a pedicure in ten.’
‘Ugh.’ Krystie shuddered. ‘I don’t know how you do that job.’
‘I love it,’ Sharon laughed. ‘If you want me to be miserable, make me sew! Seeya.’
Krystie went back out onto the street and set off in search of the hat shop. She walked the length of the street but could find nothing. She had been watching both sides of the road but crossed over anyway and went back up through the town. No hats. There was one vacant store that was all closed up but, as it was called Green Fields, she figured it had probably been a grocer’s. There was a coffee shop next door and she pushed open the door and went up to the counter.
‘What can I get you today?’ A woman with a friendly smile came to serve her.
‘Oh, nothing, thanks. I was just wondering if you knew where the hat shop is.’
‘Oh, dear, I’m afraid it’s closed down. It was next door.’
‘It’s gone?’ Krystie said, gobsmacked. ‘But that’s crazy. I just saw some of their pieces up in the wedding boutique and they’re amazing.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, but don’t lose heart. The shop is closed, but the business isn’t. If you want I can take your number and get the owner to call you.’
‘I’m not sure there’s much point. I’m looking for a job but I guess if the shop’s shut down then they’re probably not hiring.’
The woman eyed her shrewdly. ‘What sort of a job?’
‘I’m a designer but I’d settle for making other people’s designs; I need a job.’
‘Can you wait a few minutes and then we can talk?’
‘Sure,’ Krystie said, surprised.
The woman smiled and held out her hand. ‘I’m Ellen, by the way. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get us some tea? Or would you prefer coffee?’
‘Krystie. A cup of tea would be great.’ She took a seat at the nearest table, curious as to why Ellen wanted to talk to her.
‘Rory, you need to take over for a while.’
A tall handsome man came out of the kitchen. ‘Why, where are you skiving off to?’
‘I need to have a little chat with this lady.’ Ellen nodded over to Krystie.
She smiled at the man and gave a little wave.
‘She’s a designer.’
‘Oh!’ Rory’s eyes widened as he waved back. ‘Take all the time you need, I’ll cope.’
Ellen carried two mugs of tea to the table. ‘Can I tempt you with a pastry?’
‘No, thanks, I just had lunch.’
‘Are you sure? Perhaps a small slice of cheesecake?’ She stopped and smiled. ‘Sorry, Krystie, I’m waffling, aren’t I? The fact is the shop belongs to one of my greatest friends and, though she’s shut down the shop, she really does need help, although—’
‘What kind of help?’ Krystie asked before she could go off on another tangent.
‘I think it would be better if she told you that herself. Why don’t you give me your CV? I’ll pass it on.’
‘Damn, sorry, I don’t have it with me.’
Ellen’s eyes narrowed. ‘You came looking for a job without a résumé?’
‘I wasn’t out job hunting, just window shopping,’ Krystie explained. ‘Paula in the wedding boutique told me that the headpieces were from a nearby shop so I thought I’d drop by on the off-chance they needed someone.’
‘Are you a milliner?’
‘No, but I have made some pieces for myself and I’m a quick learner and a good designer.’
‘You don’t hide your light under a bushel, do you?’ Ellen looked at her, amused.
Krystie laughed, feeling embarrassed. ‘I’ve been working in Manhattan for a few years and, trust me, being modest over there gets you nowhere fast.’
‘Nice jacket. Did you buy that in New York?’
‘No, I made it,’ Krystie said and was delighted when Ellen’s eyebrows disappeared under her fringe.
Ellen looked at her for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. ‘Tell you what. Drop your CV in tomorrow and I’ll pass it on.’
‘Thanks, Ellen.’ Krystie beamed at her and practically skipped back to the shopping centre to buy Sharon’s dinner.
‘Incredible,’ Sharon exclaimed.
‘I know! I’m going to go back first thing. It’s too good a chance to miss. I know Ellen is only a friend of the designer but I got the impression she’s a good one.’
‘No.’ Sharon pointed at the pasta with her fork. ‘I’m talking about this sauce, it’s amazing.’
Krystie grinned. ‘It’s one of Laura’s mom’s special recipes.’
Sharon clinked her glass of wine against hers. ‘Then here’s to Laura’s mom and to you, Krystie. I hope something comes of this. You deserve a break. Do you know anything at all about this designer?’
‘Not a thing, only that she’s damn good. The pieces in the wedding boutique were exquisite. Still, business can’t be that great if she’s closed her shop.’
‘Perhaps she’s just moving premises.’
‘I don’t think so, but she’s looking for an assistant, so she must have some regular customers.’
‘Wear the blue beret tomorrow. It makes your eyes look huge and goes well with the jacket.’
‘Good idea. Oh, and I know just what to wear underneath!’ She hopped up and went into the room to fetch the soft wool pinafore in different shades of blue and brought it out to the kitchen to show Sharon. ‘What do you think?’
Sharon’s eyes widened. ‘I think it’s incredible that a design house hasn’t snapped you up. That’s fabulous.’
Krystie grinned, delighted. ‘I’ve never made it as far as getting to show anyone my portfolio; it’s bloody impossible to get through the door of these places.’
‘But not here, I’m sure. Trust me, Krystie, if you wear that outfit this woman would want to be blind not to hire you.’
‘Thanks.’ Krystie frowned. ‘Hair straight and slicked back or curly?’
‘Slicked for sure. You’ll look as if you’ve stepped off a catwalk.’
Chapter Nine
Sheila was on her usual morning walk in Central Park, her eyes alert for images to capture. These days, despite fingerless gloves and a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee, her hands were too cold for sketching and she was grateful for the snazzy digital camera that Karl had presented her with. She would take dozens of photos each day and then later pick one to paint. She found herself drawn to portraits, an area totally new to her. Perhaps it was her own experiences lately that attracted her to haggard faces, creased brows and worried eyes that told stories words couldn’t. This morning she was transfixed by two little girls playing in the leaves. She was pretty sure, going by the similarities and competitiveness, that they were sisters. She was reminded of the days before Mum died when she and Sinéad were young and carefree.
Afraid that she might appear to be some sort of pervert, she circled around the mother and took a position that made it look as if she were photographing the sun rising over the russet and golden treetops, but, thanks to the excellent zoom on the camera, she was able to capture the little girls’ expressions. One actually did remind her of Sinéad, but, then, there were daily reminders of her sister. Not that it meant she forgave her but you couldn’t switch off love, not just like that. She wasn’t sure there would ever come a day when that would be possible.
As the mother called the girls and they continued on their way to school, Sheila headed
home, made a pot of coffee and sat down to study her morning’s work. She finally settled on a shot she’d taken when the younger girl had fallen and looked up at her sister for help, her eyes full of tears. Sheila printed it off and took it and the coffee into the studio and set to work.
Once the decision was taken Sinéad couldn’t believe how fast things were moving but, then, that was Max for you. He didn’t believe in wasting time. The space over Café Crème was large and airy and bright and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of working there.
She was on her knees opening boxes when Ellen and Rory staggered in with another.
‘That’s the last one,’ Rory said, breathlessly.
Sinéad turned and smiled at them. ‘Brilliant. Thanks, guys, you’ve been great.’
Rory wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at his watch. ‘Time for a quick cuppa before we open.’
‘So, what do you think of your new home?’ Ellen asked, sitting down at the work table in front of the window.
‘I love it.’
‘You’re easily pleased, darling,’ Ellen drawled, glancing around at the shelving that lined one wall, and the mannequin heads and hat stands scattered about the room. Apart from the table, the only other furniture was a couple of chairs, a trolley with lots of compartments where Sinéad would keep the tools of her trade, and Sheila’s old desk and filing cabinet, which they’d put against the wall at the other end of the room. Rory had erected a rail in the corner and Sinéad had hung a heavy, red-velvet curtain on it to create an ad hoc changing room in case any of her clients wanted to try on a headpiece with their outfit. A full-length mirror was on the wall next to it and another large mirror hung above the mantelpiece of the old building where Sinéad had already arranged mannequin heads with her best pieces.
Sinéad plonked herself in a chair and spun around, smiling. ‘It’s great. Really.’
‘As long as you’re happy, sweetie.’
Rory returned with their coffees. ‘Here you go.’
Sinéad cradled hers and glanced over at Ellen. ‘Tell me more about Krystie.’ She felt nervous at the thought of carrying out an interview and even more so at the thought of working with someone other than her twin.
‘She seemed very enthusiastic. She’s been working in New York these last few years.’
‘So why did she come home?’ Sinéad frowned. If the girl was doing well she wouldn’t have come home unless there were personal reasons.
‘I didn’t ask for any details. Look, there’s no harm in talking to her,’ she added when Sinéad was silent. ‘You don’t even have to bring her up here. Meet her in the café.’
‘Yes, I think I’d prefer that. It would be more informal,’ Sinéad agreed.
‘I hope she wears the jacket. It was just gorgeous, wasn’t it, Rory?’
‘Very nice.’
‘She has style, Sinéad,’ Ellen told her, ‘and I liked her.’
‘Come on, wife, it’s opening time.’ Rory scrunched his cup into a ball and tossed it into the bin.
Ellen stood up. ‘Righto. I’ll buzz you when she arrives.’
‘If she arrives,’ Sinéad said.
Ellen grinned. ‘Darling, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s standing outside waiting for us to open. She is seriously keen and that’s exactly what you need.’
Sinéad twirled in her chair as the couple disappeared downstairs, and felt the butterflies in her tummy again. She thought of Dylan’s words: ‘You’re the boss.’ Yes, she was. And, if she was to rescue the business, she needed help; and, if Krystie Kelliher saved her having to do countless interviews, then so much the better. She gave a wry smile and wondered what Sheila would make of her wild little sister now shrinking from strangers. The intercom buzzed and she picked up the receiver. ‘Yeah?’
‘She’s here,’ Ellen said, sounding like an excited child.
‘Wow, she is eager. I’ll be right down.’ Sinéad went to the mirror to check her appearance. She sighed at the sight that greeted her. She was wearing the minimum amount of makeup and, though her black jeans and polo-neck were brightened by a colourful scarf tied round her hips, it was a far cry from the flamboyant clothes she’d worn and loved before Sheila went missing. Her entire world seemed to have split into before and after Sheila. She combed her fingers through her hair. She really needed to get that colour changed. She looked like Morticia Addams. Pinning on a smile, Sinéad took a deep breath, pulled herself up to her full five foot seven and went downstairs.
Ellen beamed at her and nodded at the girl sitting in a booth by the window. Not that she had to. Sinéad would have been able to pick her out no problem. The girl was probably around her own age but she was a kaleidoscope of colour and, when she looked up and smiled as Sinéad approached, her eyes were sparkling and her expression animated. She looked vaguely familiar. ‘Krystie?’
‘Yes!’ She stood up and held out her hand.
‘I’m Sinéad Fields. Thanks for dropping in. More coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’ The girl stared at her, frowning as Sinéad took the seat opposite and then her lips lifted in a delighted smile. ‘Oh, my God, of course. How dumb of me for not recognising your name. You and Sheila were a couple of years ahead of me in college.’
‘Oh, really?’ Sinéad said, feeling sick.
‘Yeah, small world, isn’t it? How’s Sheila? Are you running the business together?’
‘We were but—’
‘Oh, of course, you’re closing the shop. Sorry about that, but I suppose these are tough times. But I’m sure it’s just temporary. I saw some of your gorgeous pieces in the wedding boutique up the road. That’s why I came looking for you.’ She put a hand up to touch her beret and smiled. ‘Hats have always been my first love.’
‘Mine too.’ Sinéad decided to stick to talking about the job. There was time enough to tell Krystie about Sheila if she decided to hire her. ‘So, tell me about yourself and what you’ve been doing since college.’
The girl handed over her portfolio, references and CV and chatted away about her experiences in Manhattan. As Sinéad leafed through the designs she got butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t felt this excited since the day the actress had walked into the shop. ‘These are good,’ she said, realising that Krystie had stopped talking and was biting anxiously on her bottom lip.
The girl beamed. ‘Thanks.’
‘Yet you ended up working in an alterations firm.’ Sinéad frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I was a bit naïve, I suppose,’ Krystie admitted. ‘I went to Manhattan expecting to have my choice of jobs, but I couldn’t even get in the door of any of the big design houses. I finally got a job with a smaller company specialising in children’s clothes. Not really my thing, but I figured it would at least get me on the first rung of the ladder. My boss said I had to start at the bottom, it didn’t matter what my qualifications were, that it was the only way to really understand the business.’
‘It’s a fair point,’ Sinéad said, wishing she’d been given that advice, but she’d just done what she loved to do and left the business end of things to Sheila. It hadn’t cost her a thought at the time. It was only now she realised the size of the burden she’d left her twin to carry.
‘Yeah, I agree, only he taught me nothing and worked my butt off. I did everything and anything he asked, for a pittance, and then, just like that –’ Krystie clicked her fingers – ‘he retired to Florida and I was out of a job.’
‘That was tough,’ Sinéad sympathised.
‘Tell me about it. I should really have come home then, but I suppose I kept hoping someone would “discover” me. Nuts, huh?’
‘Not at all.’ Sinéad looked at her curiously. It was obvious that the girl knew nothing about their success. ‘We slaved from the moment we left college and didn’t make enough to even pay the rent for the shop. Dad did that. We did build up some regular and well-established clients but it was hard work and then –’ she smiled at Krystie – �
��we got our big break.’
As she told the story of the famous actress stumbling on their shop by chance she watched Krystie’s eyes grow round with wonder, but then why wouldn’t they? It was like something straight out of a fairytale.
‘So is that why you’re moving? Are you moving to London? Oh, my God, you’re not headed for Manhattan, are you?’ Krystie’s eyes shone with excitement.
Sinéad gave a rueful laugh. ‘No, just upstairs.’
‘Here?’ Krystie shook her head. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘It’s a very long story. Things don’t always work out the way that you expect.’
‘Huh, don’t I know it.’
Sinéad smiled. ‘But the good news is that the number of retailers we supplied did increase, so I do need another milliner. There’s too much work for me to handle alone. I closed the shop because it was a distraction from the important work,’ Sinéad fibbed. ‘I will continue to deal direct, but clients will have to call for an appointment first.’
‘Cool. That’ll make you seem even more exclusive. The snobby lot love that sort of thing.’
Sinéad burst out laughing. ‘You’re right. Tell me, did you make everything you’re wearing?’
‘Nah, I got the boots in a second-hand store in Manhattan and my undies are from Wal-Mart.’ Krystie grinned.
Sinéad took in the warm tones of the dress, the flamboyant jacket and vivid blue beret perched on the girl’s dark hair. None of it should have worked – there was too much going on – but, somehow, it did. Sinéad’s eyes returned to the beret. ‘May I?’
‘Sure.’ Krystie took it off and handed it over.
‘It’s good.’ Sinéad turned it round and round in her hands, noting the exquisite tiny stitching and the slightly unusual shape that allowed it to sit more comfortably on a full head of hair. ‘Clever.’ Krystie’s face lit up at the praise, making Sinéad smile too.
‘I have to be honest, berets and caps and headbands are all I’ve tried my hand at, but I’m a quick learner and I’ll work hard.’
Sinéad gave her back the hat and decided to go with her gut, though her brother would no doubt think she was nuts. ‘Why don’t we give it a go for a trial period and see how we get on?’
First We Take Manhattan Page 8