First We Take Manhattan

by Colette Caddle

  ‘No, I am not,’ she retorted and then caught her mother’s knowing look. ‘Okay, I admit he really hurt me, but now that I’ve got this job I don’t have time to think of him and it’s nice having Sharon to come home to every evening, I missed her.’

  ‘Poor girl, how’s she doing?’

  ‘Great. She’s so strong and positive but not interested in guys at all.’

  ‘Is it any wonder? He couldn’t wait to get her down that aisle and then the fecker walks out before their second anniversary. It’s a wonder her father didn’t go after him with a shotgun.’ The doorbell rang. ‘That will be Fallon. Go and let her in, will you, love?’

  Krystie opened the door and smiled broadly. ‘Hi, Fallon, howaway, Pat.’

  He gave her a shy smile. ‘Hey, Krystie.’

  How someone so nice and quiet and kind had ended up with her little sister she would never understand.

  Fallon’s smile was as false as her suntan. ‘Hiya. Everything okay, Krystie? You don’t look the best.’

  ‘Never better,’ Krystie assured her and turned the wattage up on her smile. ‘It’s great being home.’

  ‘I meant to ask, Krystie, why did you come home?’

  ‘I missed you,’ Krystie said sweetly and, turning on her heel, headed for the living room.

  Her father looked up, relief in his eyes. ‘Ah, there you are, sweetheart. Leila, this is Krystie.’

  ‘Dad, it’s Leah.’ Blake scowled.

  ‘Of course it is. Sorry.’ He smiled at the girl. ‘How the hell am I supposed to remember? I can’t keep track with all the girls he’s brought home,’ he said to Krystie out of the side of his mouth.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Leah.’ Krystie smiled at the young girl with the black-tipped blonde tresses and bulging blue eyes.

  ‘Hi! Blake says you’re a designer. We’re in the same business. I’m a model.’

  ‘Really? That’s great.’ Krystie tried to hide her surprise. Leah had nice skin and a pretty smile but she didn’t have the cheekbones or height usually associated with the job.

  ‘She’s a hand model,’ Blake said proudly.

  ‘I do mainly adverts for rings and washing-up liquid,’ she said holding out her hands.

  ‘Lovely,’ Krystie said, obediently admiring them.

  ‘Things are really taking off for Leah,’ Blake said proudly. ‘She’s hoping to give up her day job soon.’

  ‘Yeah, I work in a meat-processing plant and of course I wear gloves, but I really shouldn’t be doing work like that.’

  ‘You should have your hands insured,’ Da said. ‘Who was it, Ginger Rogers or Ava Gardner who had their legs insured for millions?’

  ‘I must check that out,’ Leah said seriously.

  Krystie met her dad’s twinkling eyes and suppressed a grin.

  ‘Dinner!’ her mother called and, relieved, Krystie led the way out to the kitchen determined to take the chair next to her da and avoid bitchy comments from Fallon and long discussions about hands with Leah. Of course she ended up with the two of them opposite with Pat, who’d hardly opened his mouth since he walked in. Ma was beside her and her father and brother at opposite ends of the table. As they passed the serving dishes around the table Fallon smiled over at her. ‘You must be finding Dublin very dull after Manhattan, Krystie.’

  ‘Not at all, I’m enjoying it.’

  Her father nodded at the photo on the noticeboard above her head. ‘Dull? She’s only just home and she’s in the newspapers.’

  Leah looked around and gave an excited squeal. ‘OMG, that is so cool. That guy in the background, is that Max Fields?’

  Krystie peered up at the photo. She hadn’t noticed but Max was indeed in the background of the photo and he was looking straight at her. She swallowed hard. ‘Yes, he’s my boss’s brother.’

  Leah’s eyes widened. ‘He is seriously sexy.’

  ‘Hey, you’re not supposed to be drooling over other fellas when your boyfriend’s beside you,’ Blake complained.

  ‘I love it when you’re jealous.’ Leah blew him a kiss. ‘But you don’t have to worry about me running away with Max Fields. It’s obviously your sister he’s interested in. Look at the way he’s looking at her.’

  ‘You’re imagining it,’ Krystie laughed.

  ‘You are,’ Fallon agreed. ‘Why would he be even interested in Krystie when he’s dating a stunner like Natalie McHugh? No offence,’ she added with a smile.

  Krystie made her smile even sweeter. ‘None taken.’

  ‘A man like that wants more than a brainless bimbo on his arm,’ her father said. ‘I’m sure if Krystie wanted him she could have him. She’s got the brains and the beauty.’

  ‘Thanks, Da.’ She smiled at him as Fallon stabbed her fork into a carrot. ‘How’s your job going, Fallon?’ she asked, determined not to let her sister get under her skin. Fallon worked as a receptionist in a beauty salon.

  ‘Fine, but I fancy a change. I might open my own place.’ One look at Pat’s expression made it clear that this was the first he’d heard of it.

  ‘That would be bloody stupid,’ her father retorted. ‘Why would you start a new business in the middle of a recession? And, anyway, what do you know about running a hair salon?’

  She glared at him. ‘I hold that salon together.’

  ‘Ah, yes, you make the coffee, buy the magazines and sweep the floor. Perfect qualifications for starting a business,’ he jeered.

  Krystie felt sorry for Fallon. While Da was right, there was no need to be quite so cruel about it. ‘It is a dodgy time to start a business but if you’re interested in a change why not apply to one of the salon chains? There’s probably more chance of promotion.’

  ‘I’ve thought of that too,’ Fallon said, her eyes on her dinner.

  ‘You have a very cushy number there. You’d be mad to leave,’ Pat grumbled.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, I said I was just thinking about it, okay?’

  The conversation turned to more mundane and less controversial matters, but soon Leah was back talking to Krystie about fashion and the photo and what other personalities had been there. Krystie had more important memories of that night but she obligingly told Leah about some of the VIPs she’d met and as soon as they’d finished lunch she rose to leave.

  ‘I’ve a load of washing and ironing to do,’ she said when her mother protested, ‘and there’s never a chance during the week.’

  ‘You take care of yourself. I don’t want you getting sick because you pushed yourself too hard.’

  Fallon turned to Leah. ‘She’s an epileptic.’

  Krystie stiffened, annoyed. Okay, her health was no secret, but it was up to her if she wanted to tell people. Fallon had no right to announce it like that. She could see from her parents’ expressions that they weren’t too impressed, either.

  ‘I’m sorry, Krystie, I didn’t know.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ she reassured the girl. ‘I have a very mild version of the condition and I’ve only had a handful of fits in the last ten years. Anyway, nice to meet you, Leah. Good luck with the modelling.’

  ‘Thanks, Krystie. Good luck with the hats and –’ she grinned – ‘with Max.’

  Krystie laughed and went out into the hall, followed by her mother.

  ‘Don’t mind Fallon. She forgets to put her brain in gear before opening her mouth.’

  ‘I don’t, Ma.’ Krystie smiled and hugged her mother. ‘Thanks for a gorgeous dinner. I’ll phone you during the week.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘So, Philip, where are we at?’ Max asked, watching his brother-in-law finish his dinner with obvious relish. However the man was feeling, it certainly wasn’t interfering with his appetite.

  Philip swallowed a mouthful of jalfrezi chicken before replying. ‘I’ve set the wheels in motion, talked to a couple of people, and they’re going to put me in touch with a private investigator.’

  ‘Why can’t we get things moving ourselves?’ Sinéad
asked, spreading her rice out on the plate and drawing a design in it with her fork.

  ‘We could put up her details on the missing-persons sites in America, or just New York,’ Max said.

  Philip looked at each of them in turn, his eyes solemn. ‘That’s really not a good idea. This is a delicate matter and it’s best to do it privately and quietly.’

  ‘Why?’ Sinéad said, clearly irritated by his softly-softly approach.

  ‘Because if we do as you suggest journalists will doorstep each of us day and night wondering why we’re reopening the investigation. The tabloids will no doubt come up with all their own mind-boggling and nauseating theories and, frankly, I think that’s the last thing any of us need, especially your dad.’

  That was true, Max realised. When word got out that there had been a suspected sighting of Sheila in Manhattan the press would go after it and he’d prefer to find out the reason why she’d left before he read it in a newspaper. While there was no such thing as bad publicity there was no knowing how this would play out. ‘Philip’s right, Sinéad. The quieter we can keep this the better. It’s a family matter, not something we want splashed all over the tabloids.’

  She twisted the strands of hair framing her face and bit her lip. ‘I just want to find her.’

  ‘We all do,’ Philip said. ‘But bear one thing in mind, Sinéad. If Krystie is right, then at least we know one thing for sure. She is safe and well.’

  Max saw her expression soften and thought of Krystie’s observation, that Philip was a cool customer. Maybe, but Max thought ‘careful and cautious’ described him better. ‘It’s a nice thought. I have no idea why she would have put us through all of this, but I don’t really care. What’s important is that she’s okay. Right, Sinéad?’

  She sighed. ‘Yes, but I’m still going to give her hell for putting us through this.’

  Philip’s smile was sympathetic. ‘I think that’s perfectly understandable.’

  ‘Won’t you be angry with her?’ she asked.

  Max watched him curiously. He seemed thrown by the question.

  ‘I hadn’t really thought that far ahead,’ he said eventually.

  Sinéad was silent for a moment and then looked up at him, smiling. ‘I’ve got an idea that might help us track her down. Rather than just give your investigator a photo of her, I thought you could take a photo of me dressed up the way she was when Krystie saw her.’

  ‘That’s a great idea, Sinéad,’ Max said, impressed at her ingenuity.

  ‘If Krystie can remember, then, yes, that would be great,’ Philip agreed.

  ‘She will,’ Sinéad assured him. ‘I’ll talk to her in the morning.’

  He smiled. ‘Great. Now, before I let you go I just wanted a word about Christmas . . .’

  Max sighed. This was bound to set Sinéad off again but as it was only a couple of weeks away now they needed to make some arrangements. He tried to make eye contact with her but she’d gone back to doodling in her rice.

  ‘You’re welcome as always to come along to the drinks party on Christmas Eve, but if you don’t want to I completely understand. I would like to keep up the tradition of Christmas Day, I really would. Please come. I thought we could eat later than usual, just the family.’

  Sinéad looked up. ‘And Bridie?’

  He seemed slightly confused by the question. ‘Of course, she must come too. Sheila would be disgusted with me if I left her out.’

  Max felt despondency wash over him at the thought of spending the day looking at his aunt sitting in a chair either staring vacantly into space or getting into a panic over an imagined wrong. The last time he’d seen her she had been convinced he was trying to cheat her in some way. While he knew that it was just the damn disease, it had still hurt. He’d been her favourite and now he was not only a stranger to her but an enemy too.

  He wished yet again that he could piss off for the holidays, only this time it was Krystie he imagined on the sunbed beside him, not Natalie.

  ‘That sounds fine, Philip.’ Sinéad smiled at her brother-in-law and then she looked back at Max. ‘Should we tell Bridie what’s going on, do you think?’

  ‘There’s no point. She probably doesn’t even know who Sheila is any more.’

  They sat in silence for a moment lost in their own individual thoughts. Bridie might have been a tough character but she had been all they’d got.

  ‘How’s your dad doing?’ Philip asked. ‘I left a couple of messages on the answering machine but he never got back to me.’

  ‘I don’t think he even checks it,’ Sinéad said.

  ‘Yeah, he’s fine,’ Max said, though the last time he’d seen his father the man had been more preoccupied than ever. He glanced at his watch. ‘Well, if there’s nothing else, I have some papers to read through for an early-morning meeting.’

  Sinéad stood, too. ‘I’ll get that photo to you as soon as possible, Philip.’

  He kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Great.’

  ‘Thanks for dinner,’ Max said, ‘and for taking charge of the whole Christmas business. I wasn’t too sure how that would work out and, to be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it.’

  ‘I’m still not. Oh, nothing personal, Philip,’ Sinéad added hurriedly. ‘It will just seem weird without Sheila and with Bridie going steadily downhill. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘It would be great if you could supply dessert.’

  ‘No problem at all.’

  ‘You don’t cook,’ Max said, frowning, as they walked to the door.

  ‘No, but my landlord does.’ Sinéad grinned and put on her coat.

  ‘I’ll organise the wine,’ Max told Philip, although he knew the man’s garage would be heaving with bottles from the many constituents trying to curry favour with their local politician.

  They said goodnight and Max walked his sister to her car. ‘Happy with that?’

  ‘I suppose so. We’re going to find her, I know we are.’

  ‘Krystie could have been mistaken.’

  Sinéad shook her head and smiled. ‘She’s not.’

  He sighed, thinking how upset she was going to be if nothing came of their search and wondered if that meant the business would go downhill again.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m going to say to her,’ Sinéad said, interrupting his thoughts.

  ‘To Sheila?’

  She nodded. ‘I miss her so much, I love her so much but at the same time I want to kill her.’

  ‘Put it out of your mind for now. It could take months, maybe years to find her, or we may end up back where we started, with a complete mystery on our hands.’

  She shook her head, her eyes distraught. ‘I’ll go out of my mind, Max.’

  ‘No, you won’t, Sinéad. It doesn’t matter what happens. It’s time you put your life first and stopped living in the past. Even if we find Sheila, it’s unlikely she’s going to want to come home.’

  Sinéad turned to stare at him. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why would she? She must have had her reasons for leaving and for staying away. She made a decision to start a new life and you need to do the same. Concentrate on your work that you love so much – that will distract you. I know it’s not the same without Sheila, but you’re the one that created the piece the actress wore to the BAFTAs. You are damn good at what you do, Sinéad. There’s no reason why you can’t make it internationally. I can see your hats in the best stores in London, Paris, Rome, Berlin—’

  She slapped a hand to her mouth and then laughed. ‘That’s it! Yes! Don’t you just love Leonard Cohen?’

  He frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘You just reminded me of his song: “First We Take Manhattan”!’

  ‘I’m struggling to make a connection,’ her brother said.

  ‘Okay, let me explain. You’re right about Sheila. It is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack. But if my hats went on sale in Manhattan, in somewhere like Saks or Bloomingdale’s, she wouldn’t be able to resist comi
ng to see them.’

  Saks? Bloomingdale’s? Max was about to say she was dreaming but, if she was going to use the business to try to get to Sheila, it could only be good for the books. ‘Getting your hats into one of those shops won’t be easy,’ he warned, afraid that she was building herself up for another fall.

  ‘No, not easy, but remember, I’ve photos of an award-winning Hollywood actress wearing my headpiece.’

  He grinned. ‘So you do. But how can you be sure that Sheila would even know that your hats were on sale in Manhattan?’

  ‘I can’t, Max, but at least I’ll feel like I’m doing something. I know that Philip is probably right about keeping the whole thing private but, to be honest, he’s just too sensible and slow for me. If anything happened to me and Dylan reacted so calmly I wouldn’t be a bit impressed.’

  ‘If you disappeared, Dylan would probably throw a party! I don’t know how he’s put up with you for this long.’

  ‘Damn cheek.’ She poked him between the ribs with her car key. ‘He’s lucky to have me!’

  He looked down and smiled at the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. This was the sister who had seemed to disappear along with Sheila. He hoped she was back for good. ‘Night, Sinéad.’

  She reached up to hug him. ‘Goodnight, Max.’

  He stood and watched her drive off before climbing into his own car. The more that he thought about it, the more he realised this could only be a win–win situation. If Sinéad was working her butt off bringing her range up to scratch, it would keep her mind occupied and stop her pestering Philip about the investigation. It would also bring the business back on track and keep her motivated. He still wasn’t convinced that they would find Sheila, but he would do whatever he could to keep the sister he still had, and he was convinced that her salvation lay in the business. When she was making hats, creating, she was a different person.

  They would need a publicist to launch the new range and they had to make a fuss about introducing Krystie to the public. Her CV might not be that impressive but her work spoke for itself; there was no questioning her talent. And she would be sensational on TV and radio. She was beautiful and funny and her husky voice and quirky Dublin/New York accent was damn sexy.