Snowflakes and Mistletoe at the Inglenook Inn (New York Ever After, Book 2)

by Helen J Rolfe

  By the time he reached the Inn, Darcy was hefting a bag of something inside the front door. He took the steps towards the warmth of the hall that grabbed him in off the street. ‘What’s that?’ He stepped inside and rubbed his hands together, blowing into his palms to heat them up. He wasn’t even ready to take his coat off yet.

  Darcy shut the main door behind him. ‘It’s a de-icing product. The streets are starting to get worse, the sidewalk too. I slipped when I went across to the café on a patch I hadn’t expected. I’ll get up early in case I need to clear some with a shovel, but I’d hate one of my guests to fall. Just when you think winter isn’t coming, it shows up to take you by surprise.’

  He’d been caught up watching her talk and hadn’t realised he was staring. She was more conversational than she’d been earlier and he wondered whether it was because this situation wasn’t about them in any way. ‘It’s good of you to think of us. I don’t do a graceful fall.’

  ‘I’ll try to remember that.’ She put the bag to one side, dusted her hands and straightened the black cropped suit jacket that fitted neatly over a sky-blue blouse, fitted trousers and, of course, the heels that she rarely seemed to go without. He tried to ignore thoughts of toned calves and the long legs he’d seen that time she’d been without a skirt, because those were the thoughts that would get him into trouble.

  ‘About earlier.’ He followed her into the lounge and checked whether there was an audience in the form of another guest. There wasn’t, thankfully. There was no way he was going to let anyone else know his desperation and need to contact an escort agency.

  ‘There’s no need to mention it.’

  ‘I feel I need to. It really isn’t what you think.’ He detected a smirk that wasn’t allowed to escape behind her professional conduct. ‘You see, I’m a bit stuck.’

  ‘Really, Mr Cunningham. No need to explain any further.’

  ‘Myles.’ Exasperated, he said, ‘Stop calling me Mr Cunningham because it makes me feel even more of an ass – that’s what you guys in America say isn’t it? – than I already do.’

  ‘OK. Myles.’

  ‘Thank you. And I feel I do need to explain.’ He didn’t want her thinking he was using the Inn for anything untoward. ‘My boss, he’s having a Christmas party, and he wants me to bring someone.’

  ‘An escort?’

  This was all coming out wrong. ‘The client, or potential client, he’s hoping to impress is a traditional man. Everyone seems to be married these days and apparently the wives get together, the men discuss business and it all works in some weird harmonious parallel universe.’

  Darcy pushed the top on a pen at the desk as they talked, he one side, she on the other. ‘I take it you don’t believe in all that.’

  ‘I don’t believe it’s necessary for a business deal, no. But I will concede that I get where he’s coming from. Whenever I’ve been to functions alone it’s hard to talk business when wives or girlfriends are there. Or boyfriends,’ he added, for fear of retribution. Plenty of his colleagues were women after all. ‘Other halves are usually happy enough but it does facilitate the process when they can talk amongst themselves.’ God, he sounded like he was quoting from a corporate ethics manual. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I need someone who is familiar with the corporate world, who makes a good impression and who can hold a conversation with whoever comes along.’

  ‘It sounds as though an escort is exactly what you need then.’ She said it without joking and he was impressed. If he were in her position he’d probably make more of a joke out of it, but her business etiquette, as always, shone through. ‘Have you found someone suitable?’

  ‘I haven’t called them yet.’

  He stopped talking about it when Rupert came in, looking agitated. The man may have had an English-sounding name but he couldn’t be more American if he tried. He had the same accent as one of Myles’s colleagues, a Texan with a habit of chewing tobacco and a drawl that dragged out long, lazy vowels.

  Darcy excused herself and followed Rupert out to the kitchen. Myles hung around a bit longer and was about to head up to his apartment when Darcy reappeared, looking as flustered as her chef had as though he’d passed on whatever he was stressing about.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Myles asked.

  ‘Yes, everything is fine.’ Distracted, she used a key to open a drawer in the desk but he couldn’t see what she was looking for. Whatever it was, she didn’t find it because she stood up empty-handed.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, picking up his briefcase.

  She mumbled something and he took himself up to his apartment. But the beers in the fridge didn’t appeal; being on his own was less attractive than it usually was. He picked up the card for the escort agency again, toyed with it in his hand and picked up the phone.

  Less than twenty seconds later when the call was answered, he hung up. He rested his forehead against the wall. ‘What are you thinking?’ he said out loud. He couldn’t do it. Although this agency said it was upmarket and implied it was company and intellectual conversation he would be paying for, he wasn’t stupid. He knew men used these types of agency for sex, and as much as he was going through a dry spell, he wasn’t interested in one night with a woman, especially for money.

  He leaned his back against the wall and had a sudden desire for a glass of bourbon again. Or was it rather that he wanted to recreate the evening he’d spent in the lounge, by the fire, talking to Darcy as though they were friends?

  Restless, he left his apartment and went back downstairs. There was a low hum of music – definitely Christmas music – but he didn’t mind it too much. He sat on the sofa in the lounge and looked out onto the street. Greenwich Village was a much better location than being put up in the Financial District in one of those modern residences with no personality. Here, it was real Manhattan life and he felt connected to it.

  He hadn’t been sitting there long when Darcy came through, looking as frazzled as before. She was with Rupert still. She handed him a bundle of cash and he patted her on the shoulder in an everything-will-be-OK-you’ll-see gesture.

  ‘Good evening, Myles.’ Her formality and smile were back in place the second she saw him.

  The family that was staying in one of the other apartments chose that moment to bustle through the front entrance and the kids told Darcy all about their day. She acted as though the only thing on her mind at that very moment was their well-being and antics. He loved the way she had the power to make people feel as though they were the centre of the universe and that nothing else mattered. He wondered if anyone ever exchanged the favour and made her feel that way.

  The kids told her how they’d looked at some of the Christmas window displays and, whatever else she’d been in the middle of, Darcy listened to them extol the virtues of the window at Macy’s with the North Pole and Santa’s Communication Station, then a big shop of Fifth Avenue that had had giant lollipops and cotton candy in the window as well as a ten-story-high light show. Myles watched the family, the kids’ voices laced with delight, fascination and exhaustion that was slowly beginning to creep up on them.

  When the parents had ushered their offspring upstairs and they had all bid goodnight to one another as though somehow by staying under the same roof they were an extension of family, Myles ordered a drink. He took off his sweater, a cable knit that wasn’t needed when you were this close to the fire. He wondered if Darcy would join him but when it looked like she had no intention of doing so, he picked up the newspaper and lost himself in the pages of the New York Times.

  The young couple staying in the other apartment came through the front entrance just after Darcy served him his bourbon and a gush of icy air rushed in to remind guests of the season. Myles peered out of the curved window, not that he could see much now the moon had taken the sun’s place, but it was curative with the passing lights of cars, people bobbing past the window as they dashed here and there, the day coming to a close yet the night still young.
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  Darcy went into hostess mode and passed on some details of the carriage rides through Central Park. The couple – who he’d established were called Vanessa and Zach – had booked one for the following day and Darcy took out a photocopied map of the city before using a pen to trace the route from the Inn to the meeting point.

  ‘We left our cell phones at home for the holidays,’ Zach announced proudly, hugging Vanessa to him. ‘Our families know we’re having some much-needed down time.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Darcy smiled. ‘You’ll have a proper vacation without anyone bothering you.’

  When the couple went on their way Myles wondered if anyone would ever look at him in the way Vanessa looked at Zach, as though he was the person they wanted to tell all their secrets too, the last person they wanted to see at the end of the day, the first face they wanted to greet in the morning. He had an overwhelming urge to snigger. He wasn’t sure a woman from an escort agency would ever be giving him that much of an extensive service.

  ‘Can I get you another?’ Darcy caught him gazing out onto the street, noticing couples walking by, families huddled together.

  ‘The city that never sleeps,’ he smiled, turning back into the room and towards the fireplace.

  ‘It sure is.’

  ‘I thought London was busy but this is something else. Did you miss it while you were away travelling?’

  As he’d expected, she seemed reluctant to launch into conversation of a personal nature but offered, ‘Very much, it’s why I always knew I’d come back.’ She reached out to take his empty glass and he confirmed he’d like another.

  ‘Join me?’ he asked with a smile he hoped would be enough to persuade her.

  ‘I’m working.’

  ‘Come on. The lovebirds have gone upstairs and I doubt you’ll see them again, and the family looked beat to me. I’ll bet the kids are in their pyjamas already and tucked up in bed.’

  ‘I’d better not.’

  ‘Come on, I’m not asking you to get so drunk you can’t stand up. Just one drink, keep me company.’ Boy, did he sound desperate? He didn’t mean to, but something about this girl made him want to keep trying, encouraged him to keep bashing his head up against that proverbial wall.

  When she came back he smiled because she’d relented and in one hand she had a bourbon, and in the other a gin and tonic for herself. The ice in her glass clinked against the sides as she sat down on the armchair adjacent to the sofa. He figured it would’ve been weird if she’d joined him on the two-seater, a little bit intimate for a platonic nightcap.

  ‘Bad day?’ he asked when her shoulders relaxed after her first sip.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  She smiled across at him although he sensed her smile hid an exhaustion, an apprehension she wasn’t sharing. ‘No, nothing anyone can help with.’

  He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, glass poised between his palms. ‘Are you sure about that? It’s just that you look as deflated as I do when I lose a deal with a major client.’

  ‘The Inn isn’t doing as well as I’d hoped, that’s all.’

  Good. She was talking. ‘Financially?’

  She cast a glance around to ensure the other guests were tucked away safely in their rooms and not about to walk up behind her. Her eyes sparkled from the glow of the fire and the white fairy lights coming from the bannisters out in the hallway. ‘Sofia started this place from scratch. It used to be her home. She went through a nasty divorce but turned her life around by starting up an inn.’ She looked around her, at the high ceilings that would be imposing if there wasn’t this incredible warmth about the place. ‘She’s done a brilliant job.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘There’s no but.’

  ‘Oh, there’s a but.’

  She grinned. ‘I barely know you but I can’t keep much from you, can I?’

  ‘Blame my business acumen. I’m used to reading people in my line of work as I’m sure you are.’

  ‘She doesn’t have a handle on the marketing she needs to do for this place,’ Darcy admitted. ‘There are so many other hotels, big and boutique, there’s Airbnb now so that’s another competitor, owners are renting out their investment properties via other websites. Sofia needs to turn things around and really think about how to maximise profitability. Take the top floor, for example.’ She took a generous swig of gin.

  ‘Where I’m staying?’ The bourbon slipped welcomingly down his throat. He was at ease with Darcy, this conversation, this shared interest in business.

  ‘It’s a stunning apartment, right?’

  ‘It’s the best.’

  ‘It’s not rented out very much.’

  ‘That surprises me.’

  Darcy shook her head. ‘It doesn’t surprise me. At the price we’re charging customers could go to one of the major hotel chains, with a pool, spa, a cordon-bleu restaurant. This place isn’t catering for those people. I’m actually surprised you came here really.’

  Myles nodded. ‘It was partly my doing. I was asked where I wanted to stay while the apartment was renovated for me to live in. I said I preferred a boutique hotel or an apartment, somewhere I could come and go and that wasn’t too busy. Apparently my boss’s wife recommended this place, so your word-of-mouth advertising is working.’

  ‘That’s comforting to know. But, again, there aren’t enough bookings throughout the year. I’ve been spending a lot of my time between tasks looking into what Sofia could do to change that.’

  ‘And what did you have in mind?’

  ‘She could go the corporate-rental route. So she could market to companies who bring people in from overseas. People like yourself.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. What else?’ He liked that she was talking. He didn’t want that to stop.

  ‘Alternatively, she could easily separate the top floor into two apartments. It would be an initial outlay but she might find the affordability generates way more bookings.’

  ‘You’ve got a lot of ideas.’ Darcy had relaxed into her armchair and Myles mirrored her by leaning back against the sofa.

  ‘It’s hard to persuade Sofia to do much at all. I think part of her is scared whatever she does may backfire and she’ll be worse off. It took a lot of courage to get this far. She really had a terrible time.’

  ‘It sounds like you’re close.’

  ‘We are. Gabriella, her daughter, is my best friend. We were always in and out of each other’s houses growing up and so Sofia is like a second mom to me. Seeing her go through that divorce was horrid, but seeing her come out the other side was the best thing.’

  ‘You really want this place to work for her, don’t you?’

  Darcy nodded, toying with the sprig of mint leftover in her now empty glass. ‘She went to Switzerland to help her daughter but she told me that now she’s there, she’s glad she’s away. She’s never opened the Inn at Christmas until now, and she only did it because I was so insistent it was a good idea.’

  ‘I’m surprised,’ he said. ‘Christmas in New York is something a lot of people dream about and the premium prices aren’t something to ignore.’

  Darcy got up and changed the lights on the Christmas tree from rapid twinkling to a constant white glow that brought out the colours of the ornaments. ‘She’s always closed up shop, saying she couldn’t neglect her family. I know where she’s coming from. Gabriella went through her parents’ breakup and Sofia is keen to make up for it in any way she can.’

  ‘Does Gabriella need her to?’

  Darcy shook her head. ‘Gabriella is one of the most rounded people I know. She emerged from that divorce strong and together and she was there for her mom. But Sofia has so much guilt, and she’s letting it blinker her view of what the Inn needs. I’d hate for her neglect to become her downfall. What I’m hoping is that she returns from Switzerland and I can talk to her, help her see that she needs to evolve and shake things up.’

  ‘Hav
e another,’ Myles prompted, noting her empty glass between slender fingers.

  ‘You know, I think I will.’ But she didn’t top her glass up until she’d lingered in the hallway for a minute or two to ensure guests were ensconced in their apartments. Not that it mattered. He felt sure her professionalism would return in an instant if any of them emerged.

  With another gin and tonic, she took a seat and his heart skipped a beat when she crossed her legs, because he couldn’t ignore how attracted to her he was, both on the outside and by the personality he was slowly getting to know.

  ‘You need to do a PowerPoint presentation.’ He lifted his eyebrows at her.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To show Sofia what you want to say, about the Inn.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.’

  ‘You know, when my niece and nephew were desperate for a puppy they got tired of begging my brother and his wife. So, one day, they – now I may have helped out a bit – prepared a PowerPoint presentation on all the reasons why they should be allowed to get a dog.’

  ‘That’s hilarious.’

  He held up a hand. ‘Hilarious, but it worked. They’d cited reasons such as the puppy teaching them to care for another being, teaching them responsibility, encouraging them to get outdoors even when the weather was miserable. They had it all worked out. You know, I think Winston and Victoria caved in because they were so impressed with all the effort their kids had gone to.’

  ‘So they have a puppy now?’

  He took out his phone and scrolled through his photos. He handed it to Darcy. ‘Meet Sally, the labradoodle.’