First We Take Manhattan

by Colette Caddle

  Krystie stared. ‘Are you serious? Don’t you want Sheila to interview me, too?’

  Sinéad braced herself. This was the hard part and it wasn’t getting any easier. So much for time healing. ‘Sheila is . . .’ She still couldn’t bring herself to say the word dead. ‘She disappeared last March. Look –’ she made a show of looking at her watch – ‘I’m sorry, I have another appointment. When could you start?’

  Krystie was staring at her, stunned. ‘Er, Monday?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘But there’s something I should tell you first.’

  Sinéad frowned. She should have known the girl was too good to be true. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I suffer from epilepsy.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. The poor girl, how dreadful. She really didn’t know what to say.

  Krystie waved away the sympathy with a smile. ‘Really, it’s no big deal. I’m lucky. I have a mild form of the condition. I rarely get seizures but I thought you should know.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’ Sinéad relaxed a little. ‘I’m afraid I know very little about it. You’ll have to educate me.’

  ‘Well, if I have an attack and I’m holding scissors, it’s a good idea to take them away from me,’ Krystie said with a grin. ‘As I said, though, I rarely get them, and when I do it’s over in minutes and I recover very quickly.’

  Sinéad was surprised and relieved. ‘I thought it was much more traumatic than that.’

  ‘It varies from one person to the next but often it’s more frightening for anyone witnessing a fit. An epileptic doesn’t remember anything afterwards. It can be pretty embarrassing if it happens in public or with strangers. That’s only happened to me once, though.’

  Sinéad digested all this and then remembered something she’d heard about seizures. ‘Don’t I have to put something in your mouth?’

  Krystie laughed. ‘No. I believe that’s what they did years ago in case you swallowed your tongue, but that’s actually not even possible, though you can bite it, and it hurts! If a fit goes on for more than five minutes or if I seem to be having difficulty breathing, then you would need to call an ambulance, but that’s only happened to me twice in my life. If you like I can bring you in a leaflet all about it on Monday,’ she offered.

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ Sinéad said though she was relieved that it wasn’t as scary as she had imagined. ‘Does it stop you doing anything?’

  ‘Not much. Scuba diving is out but I hate water, anyway, so that’s not a problem.’

  Sinéad shivered. ‘I hate the water, too.’

  ‘And I have to be clear of fits for a year before I can drive, but I don’t like driving. I much prefer public transport. It’s an opportunity to look at clothes.’ She smiled.

  Sinéad laughed. ‘That’s true, I must take the bus more often. Thank you for telling me about the epilepsy, Krystie. You didn’t have to.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be fair not to prepare you, just in case.’

  ‘Well, I appreciate that.’ Sinéad smiled and stood up. ‘I’ll have my brother call you. He’s an accountant and he takes care of the business end of things. He’ll fill you in on the package. I hope that you find the terms acceptable.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’

  Sinéad shook her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Krystie.’

  ‘You too, Sinéad. Thank you so much for this opportunity and I’m sorry about Sheila—’

  ‘Thanks,’ Sinéad cut in immediately. She wasn’t ready to discuss that and she didn’t want to break down in front of her new employee. ‘See you Monday.’ She smiled and fled back upstairs before the girl could ask any more questions.

  Krystie sat in stunned silence. She’d got a job? That must be the fastest and easiest interview in history. And not just any job, but a job designing and making hats. At least she thought she would be designing. She frowned as she went back over the conversation. Sinéad hadn’t actually said that but, hell, what difference did it make? She was going to be trained as a milliner by one of the best and get paid for it. This was very much a win–win situation. She had been relieved that Sinéad had reacted so well when she told her about the epilepsy. It had put other would-be employers off. The interview couldn’t have gone better. The only cloud on the horizon was this mystery surrounding Sheila. Perhaps she would get the full story on the Internet . . .

  ‘Can I get you more coffee?’

  She looked up to see Ellen standing over her. Here was someone who would know. ‘Please, Ellen.’ She smiled. ‘And could I have a word when you get a moment? It’s about Sheila.’

  Ellen stared at her for a moment and then nodded. ‘Sure. Give me a sec.’

  As she waited, Krystie’s thoughts returned to her job. Wait till she told Sharon and Sandy. She groaned, realising that Sandy would be happy for her but upset that it would mean she wasn’t returning to Manhattan. She definitely had to get her friend to visit Ireland, and soon. Her thoughts turned to Ma and Da. They would be over the moon at the news.

  Ellen arrived back with two mugs. ‘So did you two come to an agreement?’

  Krystie grinned. ‘Yes, it looks that way. We didn’t talk money or anything but, to be honest, I’d happily work for her for nothing.’

  Ellen laughed. ‘I won’t pass that on. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Krystie searched her face. ‘What happened to Sheila?’

  ‘What did she tell you?’ Ellen’s expression was guarded.

  ‘She said Sheila disappeared, that’s all. I’m not being nosy, honest. It’s just that I knew them – well, from a distance. We went to the same college but they were a couple of years ahead. Everyone knew there was something special about Sinéad. She had the “it” factor. Sheila was different but,’ she added hurriedly, ‘she was great, too.’

  ‘She has real talent in running the business. They were sisters, best friends and they also made a great team. Sinéad is completely lost without Sheila.’ Ellen sighed. ‘It was only weeks after the BAFTAs – oh, do you know about that?’

  ‘About the actress buying one of her headpieces and wearing it to the ceremony? Yes, Sinéad told me, unbelievable.’

  ‘It was an exciting time but crazy, too. They were inundated with media people wanting to interview and photograph them and they also had to deal with a huge increase in enquiries coming in from retailers, and not just in Ireland, either. They were both working all hours. Philip, Sheila’s husband, was heading off to Brussels. Sheila usually travelled with him but she was exhausted. Not only did she have work to contend with, but her aunt had just moved into a nursing home. Sheila was spending a lot of time settling her in, putting her house on the market and clearing out her belongings. The day after Philip flew out, Max got a visit from the police. Sheila’s car had been found on the coast road in Sandycove. Her bag and phone were on the passenger seat and the keys were in the ignition. A guy out walking his dog thought it was odd and, when he saw it still there on his way back, he called the Gardaí.’

  ‘Was she into swimming?’ Krystie knew there was a famous spot around there for serious swimmers.

  Ellen held her gaze. ‘Not at all and, anyway, no clothes or towel were found.’

  ‘Are you saying that she killed herself?’ Krystie stared at her in disbelief.

  Ellen shrugged. ‘We’ll never know for sure what happened. They didn’t find her body but, though there were many reported sightings and the police followed them up, they led nowhere. The investigation into the case was closed down a month ago. Sinéad took that very hard. It was tough for her dad and Max, her brother, too, of course, but Sinéad just couldn’t accept it at all. She stays up till all hours checking missing-person sites and phoning up the Gardaí asking them to check a new theory she’s come up with. She can think of little else.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. I’d be the same. And it just doesn’t make sense that Sheila would take her own life, does it? She had so much to live for.’ Krystie’s
heart went out to Sinéad. No wonder she seemed so changed. How did anyone carry on after going through something like that? ‘Did Sheila have children?’

  ‘No kids but she was married to the politician, Philip Healy, you know him, right? He’s a TD, a member of the Dáil?’

  ‘Never heard of him, but then I’ve been away a long time.’

  Ellen nodded and continued. ‘He was devoted to her and seems to be coping by just working all hours. It’s hard to know how Max is. He’s a more private sort of person. But the three of them were very close. And Kieran, their father, well, he’s a mess. He went on sick leave for a while and then retired a year early. He just couldn’t face going back to work, though he held a senior position in the council.’

  Krystie considered the situation for a moment. ‘So Sheila’s why Sinéad is closing the shop?’

  ‘Indirectly. Max thought it would be easier for her to concentrate on designing if she didn’t have the shop to worry about.’

  ‘I hope he’s right. She’s so talented and sometimes work is the only way to get through tough times.’

  ‘That sounds like the voice of experience,’ Ellen said, her eyes curious.

  ‘My problems are nothing in comparison to what Sinéad has been through.’

  Ellen smiled. ‘We all try to help but she needs someone around to talk hats with and remind her of how much she loves what she does. I think you are going to be good for her.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Krystie said solemnly. Although she had come here today in hope of just finding work, she now felt that perhaps she’d stumbled on something much bigger than a job.

  Chapter Ten

  Max couldn’t believe it when Sinéad told him that she had found a designer. Already? Really? And the girl had just walked in off the street? It sounded very dodgy. He just knew that Sinéad had probably just offered the girl a job without even checking her credentials but, when he heard that she’d gone to the same college as his sisters and was the same age as him, he felt a little happier.

  He would make his own mind up, though, when she got here. He checked his watch again. If she got here, he corrected. She was late. That didn’t bode well. What kind of person was late for an interview with a prospective employer? With that the door of Starbucks flew open and a girl in a rather colourful outfit stood in the entrance, her eyes searching the room. He stood up and raised an arm and, with a wide smile, she bounced towards him, her hand held out. ‘Max?’

  ‘Yes.’ He took her hand and looked into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. ‘You must be Krystle.’

  ‘Call me Krystie, please. Sorry I’m late. I was in Brown Thomas ogling hats and lost track of time.’ She pulled a face.

  ‘Let’s hope you don’t lose track of time on the way to work,’ he said, curtly. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Latte, please.’ She smiled, not seeming to notice his annoyance.

  Another featherbrain, if a bloody sexy one, he thought as he stood at the counter. He wondered, would she and Sinéad sit talking about hats all day instead of making the bloody things? He’d better make it clear that this was a probationary arrangement. He glanced around to see her chatting on her phone, her back to the wall, one slim pink-clad leg over the other. As he watched, she laughed and he found himself smiling at the sound and the way her face lit up. She was so vibrant, so alive.

  ‘One latte, sir.’

  He paid for the coffee and carried it back to the table. She had finished the call and was looking up at him expectantly. She’d taken off her beret and her hair was a shining mass of dark curls. He could almost visualise them on the pillow.

  ‘I’ve read the contract you emailed me and I’m happy to sign it,’ she said without preamble.

  He watched, mesmerised, as she dipped a finger into the coffee and then sucked the foam from it. She grinned like a naughty schoolgirl.

  ‘It’s the best bit, right?’ she said and licked her lips.

  Max dragged his eyes away from her mouth and pulled out his copy of the contract. ‘Let’s go through this, anyway.’

  She listened, nodding occasionally, as he took her through the document, although he got the distinct impression that she would have agreed to anything just to get this job. ‘Have you any questions?’

  ‘No, sounds fine.’

  He looked at her. ‘You really want this, don’t you?’

  She met his eyes and nodded. ‘I can’t wait to start.’

  ‘Okay, then. There will be six months’ probation and then Sinéad will reassess the situation.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  He looked at her. ‘Any other questions?’

  ‘No, but I would just like to say I’m sorry about Sheila. I remember her. Your sisters were always being held up as examples, Sinéad for her innovation and Sheila for her hard work.’

  He smiled. ‘That sounds about right.’

  ‘It must have been such a terrible time for you, for all of you.’

  ‘It hasn’t been easy,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve tried to do my best for Dad and Sinéad, but I’m not sure half the time if I’m doing or saying the right thing.’ Where the hell had that come from? He’d only just met this girl. He switched back into business mode. ‘The thing is, Krystie, I need to know that Sinéad can rely on you.’

  ‘Oh, she can,’ Krystie exclaimed, leaning forward. ‘It’s an absolute honour to get to work with her. I can’t believe my luck. Anything that I can do to make things easier, you only have to ask.’

  Max drank in her lovely eyes and red lips, wishing he could take her up on that offer. He cleared his throat. ‘Just do what you’re told and don’t ask her about Sheila.’

  ‘My lips are sealed.’ She pulled an imaginary zip across her mouth.

  Max stared, wondering what it would be like to kiss it.

  ‘Anything else?’

  He looked at her. ‘Sorry? Oh, no, I don’t think so. Welcome aboard.’

  Krystie stared out across Dublin Bay as the DART hurtled back along the track towards Greystones, and thought about her encounter with Max Fields. He was very different from his sisters in every way. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had hair that was strawberry blond and cut quite short, though an unruly lock was inclined to fall across his eyes, which were pale blue and curious. The sort of eyes that missed nothing. He had been beautifully though very formally dressed, but, then, he was an accountant for one of the city’s largest firms and obviously stinking rich. According to Sharon, he was a mover and shaker, considered a catch with women running after him, but no one had managed to snare him yet. She could see the attraction in a detached way, but he didn’t do it for her. She went for emotional, creative, moody men. Max was too cool and conservative for her liking, although there was definitely something about those pale-blue eyes that was arresting.

  She leaped to her feet as the train pulled into her station and, jumping off, she walked briskly towards Sharon’s house, saying hello and waving to a couple of the neighbours she had been introduced to. She was glad that Sharon was surrounded by such a nice bunch after what she had been through. She couldn’t have moved to a better spot. Thanks to the new friends she’d made and her job, Sharon seemed to be taking things in her stride, but she was obviously nervous of getting involved with another man. Krystie could relate to that. It would be a long time before she let another man close enough to hurt her again, either.

  After letting herself in, she closed the door on the cold evening air, switched on the fire in the living room and went straight through to the kitchen. Sharon would be home in an hour and she wanted to have a nice dinner ready for her. If it wasn’t for her friend, she wouldn’t have this amazing job. She still couldn’t quite believe it. She would start work on Monday, and with Sinéad Fields. She had travelled to Manhattan in search of her fortune and ended up finding it in a suburb of Dublin. It was comical. It was also bloody fantastic.

  The meal was almost ready when Sharon came through the front door smiling. ‘Yay, it’s Friday and my first appointmen
t isn’t till eleven tomorrow. Something smells good.’ She took off her jacket, kicked off her boots and padded into the kitchen, setting a bottle of Prosecco on the counter next to Krystie. ‘I thought we should celebrate.’ She leaned over to inspect the contents of the pan.

  ‘Lovely!’ Krystie smiled gratefully. ‘I’m making risotto, so it’s a good job you brought wine. The remainder of the bottle that was in the fridge is in here.’

  ‘So how did it go with Max Fields?’ Sharon rooted in the drawer for the corkscrew, opened the wine and poured some into two glasses. She hoisted herself up onto the edge of the worktop. ‘Is he as gorgeous as they say?’

  Krystie stirred thoughtfully. ‘He’s a bit stuffy but I like him. I’d imagine he would need to know someone very well before he let his guard down.’ Although he had momentarily, she realised, when he had talked about his family. ‘He’s got great hair and, as for his suit and the shoes –’ she shook her head – ‘I doubt he got much change from a grand.’

  Sharon’s eyes twinkled. ‘Excellent. A job and rich-boyfriend material – you’re onto a winner.’

  ‘Unfortunately, he’s not my type,’ Krystie laughed, mentally comparing Max’s fair complexion with Jacob’s sultry, Latin good looks. She stretched up to get two plates from the cupboard. ‘I hope you’re hungry: I think I’ve made enough for three.’

  ‘Famished. Let’s eat inside. It’s too cold to sit out here.’ Sharon took the wine and glasses through while Krystie plated the food. ‘I’m going to miss you when you leave, especially your cooking.’

  ‘Nice to know I’m appreciated.’ Krystie followed her in and set the plates down on the small coffee table.

  ‘Have you told your folks your good news yet?’ Sharon asked.

  ‘No, I’ll call them after I’ve eaten. It’s such a relief that I’ll be able to pay my way.’

  ‘Are you going to admit you’ve been home for a couple of weeks?’