He almost ignored the phone when it rang but for some reason picked it up as one arm pushed into his coat.
‘Winston, how’s it going? Two phone calls, I am honoured.’
His brother saw the funny side. ‘Yeah, don’t get used to it. It’s just the season.’
‘What can I do for you?’
His brother’s voice didn’t come across straight away, as though he was thinking carefully about what he needed to say. ‘It’s Mum.’
‘She’s OK, isn’t she?’
‘Yes. Well, I think so. You see, I think she might be drinking again.’
His brother knew Myles’s time was precious, so he knew better than to tiptoe around a point. Myles sat down again. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Dad’s worried about her. She’s really low and refuses to go and see a doctor or anyone else for that matter.’
‘That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s drinking, Winston.’ The vestiges of childhood memories pounded his mind, trying to creep their way back in. He’d got well versed at blocking them out. During their years as young boys, Winston and Myles had had to contend with their mum being absent emotionally, their dad being away physically. Perhaps that was what had brought them so close together as brothers.
‘I’ve said that to Dad,’ said Winston, his voice laced with concern. ‘I think he’s just terrified it’ll happen again.’
Myles couldn’t imagine his father being terrified of anything. ‘Have you spoken to Mum?’
‘I haven’t asked her outright. How can I? But I’ve chatted with her as normal and she seems the same to me.’
Myles didn’t need to hear that his move to New York had probably made her blame herself for her failings. He hadn’t done it to spite her, and he’d never admit this to Winston, but part of him was glad she was starting to question herself. It was something she should’ve done years ago.
‘I haven’t been up to see her yet,’ Winston confessed. ‘The kids’ school is crazy busy with nativity plays, end-of-year parties, you know the sort of thing. I just hope Dad isn’t right about this one.’
Myles suspected part of Winston’s fear was that his kids would see Grandma the way they used to see her, half-cut, stumbling or falling asleep, or sometimes worse, acting up and being as silly as a five-year-old, dancing and singing, and, worst of all, ruining the entire Christmas dinner on the one day where family problems seemed to become so much more of a strain.
‘Are you there?’ Winston was still on the other end of the phone while Myles had lost himself looking out of the window at the few stars peppering the sky. He wondered how many other families had issues like theirs at this time of year. How many problems hid behind the smiles you saw on the streets of New York, or behind the doors of elegant brownstones?
It was a long time since Myles had had a happy Christmas, and if Winston was right, escaping to the other side of the world wasn’t going to do much good either. He’d have to add another December 25th to the long list of Christmases where he’d wished the whole season would just go far, far away.
Chapter Eleven
Darcy
Eight days until Christmas
Darcy didn’t really have time for a shopping expedition, but she had nothing suitable for a night at The Plaza in her wardrobe either, so later today she was meeting Isabella for project find-a-dress. For now, she had to get on with looking after the Inn. She could see exactly how Sofia was able to neglect advertising and the bigger picture when there were so many little things to do.
The streets were icy every morning it seemed and Darcy’s day began by using a shovel to scrape the worst off the brownstone stoop, before using a de-icing product. She spent no end of time sweeping the hallway. Another guest had checked in last night and, although only staying for two nights, had required a lot of the extras, which of course meant an extra weight on the already toppling workload. This guest wanted an evening meal, drinks early evening, a taxi arranged, three days’ worth of clothes washed and pressed, a full breakfast this morning and directions to a few landmarks before moving on to the next destination.
Darcy had spent a while yesterday preparing for the PowerPoint presentation for when Sofia returned. She tried to pre-empt likely questions and although she had no idea of her role once Sofia was back, she didn’t mind. This was what she enjoyed: the responsibility, the tantalising smell of success under her control. It felt good too. She loved the air of independence she felt, even as she continued with the mundane chores of cleaning down some of the woodwork in the hallway that had gathered dust. She vacuumed the big rug in front of the fire. She polished the mirror above the mantelpiece, she cleared the kitchen when Rupert had to rush off, she turned down beds, she replenished towels and she restocked cupboards and refrigerators in each apartment.
Darcy longed to get out her knitting needles and lose herself in the task for an hour, but she had no time for that and once she’d had lunch it was time to meet Isabella and sort out something to wear. At least being so busy had stopped her stressing about what to say to Myles when she next saw him, or how conscious she was that she was choosing a dress to wear on a date with him. If she let herself think about it too much she’d panic. What if she was a big dull dud and had no conversation skills in front of the people he worked with? Running an inn and welcoming guests was one thing, but the corporate world was another entirely, especially at The Plaza’s Grand Ballroom.
Isabella was waiting on the street corner that afternoon, puffing out white circles into the air as though she was a little kid, when Darcy arrived to meet her on Fifth Avenue.
‘You ready to do this?’ Isabella certainly seemed raring to go. ‘How long have we got?’
‘You mean how long have I got? I’m assuming you have all day.’
‘Yep, it’s a Saturday and I’m as free as a bird.’
‘I’ve got between two and three hours. I’ve got my cell phone in case anyone at the Inn needs me, but I did most of the chores this morning, everything else will have to wait.’
‘That’s the spirit. This is your first date in a long time. It’s important. And it’ll be good to see you in a nice dress, see a bit of flesh. You’re always so done up in those suits.’ She hooked an arm through Darcy’s.
‘Hey, I’ve got one of those suits on now. Under my coat.’
‘And you look fabulous in them, but they’re work suits; this is a totally different outfit we’re about to shop for.’
As they walked she told Darcy, ‘I dropped the gifts with Cleo in Inglenook Falls.’
‘Thanks so much for doing that. How is she? How’s Dylan?’
‘I didn’t see Dylan but Cleo is really well. She said to tell you that you must make it to the markets next year because she’s bagged an even bigger stall.’
‘Already? That’s great. The knitting business must be booming. Which is more than can be said for my own knitting project.’
‘Not managed to finish that sweater yet?’
‘Not unless Gabriella wants her son dressed in something that currently looks more like a scarf.’
‘You’ll finish it, you just have other priorities right now.’
‘Talking of which…’ She nodded to the welcoming front doors of Saks Fifth Avenue. ‘It’s time to get started.’
Inside, the warmth of the store a welcome relief, Isabella was already taking out dresses and assessing them. ‘What look are you going for?’
‘I think classic is the way to go.’ Darcy found a black dress, knee-length, plain. ‘This sort of thing. It’s simple, elegant—’
‘Boring.’
‘Isabella.’ She put the dress back, deflated.
‘I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make this miserable for you, but you need to think outside the square. That dress was nice, but you could’ve worn it for work – am I right?’
Darcy thought about it. ‘Then it’ll be worth spending the money.’
‘Darcy, sometimes I want to shake you. This is shopping, for
you, for an occasion that is special.’
‘It’s a first date. I’m not marrying the guy.’
‘You’re going to The Plaza! To a function in the Grand Ballroom!’
Darcy had texted Isabella the second she knew more details of where Myles wanted to take her. ‘Well I don’t want anything too showy. I like understated.’
Darcy tried on five dresses, but none appealed. They ended up in the shoe department but found nothing there either. They left the big department store and zigzagged in and out of clothing stores, shoe emporiums, designer stores where either the price tag dazzled them or the lack of a price tag made them casually leave knowing it would be way too expensive. Darcy had given Isabella her budget from the start, and it was generous but not ridiculous.
Isabella dragged her into another designer boutique, giggling away at the price tickets. ‘These are crazy prices,’ she whispered.
‘Come on, we’d better go somewhere a little more in our league.’ But Darcy had to admit it was another world in here, the clothing so immaculate she didn’t dare touch any of it. ‘He offered to buy me something you know.’
Isabella, distracted by a trouser suit marked on sale, said, ‘Who did?’
‘Myles. He offered to buy me a dress.’
Isabella gasped. ‘You’re like Demi Moore in Indecent Proposal.’ They weaved past sales assistants and out of the door. ‘Would you sleep with him for a million bucks?’
‘Isabella!’ Darcy nudged her friend.
‘So does he look like Robert Redford?’
Darcy shook her head. ‘No, better.’
‘Girl, you’re in deeper than you know.’
‘Come on.’ Darcy refocused. ‘I really need some help, but we need to aim for more realistic stores than that one.’
They went into store after store. Darcy tried on a one-shoulder bow dress in royal blue but hated the colour and the style. She tried on a herringbone embroidered fit and flare dress in another store, a backless number somewhere else, but nothing felt right.
It felt as though they were never going to find anything.
They stepped out of yet another store and when Isabella declared hunger they grabbed a hot dog each from a stall on the next block.
‘I’d better not have too many of these if I want to fit into any dress.’ Darcy savoured the onions and slather of mustard as she popped the last piece into her mouth. ‘My hands are freezing.’ She quickly replaced her gloves. It was the season for hats already. Isabella had a navy one with a fawn pom-pom on top, and Darcy had one to match – another purchase from Cleo’s store in Inglenook Falls – except hers was a pale pink knitted version with the same faux-fur pom-pom.
Isabella wiped her mouth, found the nearest trash can and deposited her napkin in there. ‘You know, it’s so cold I think it’s going to snow soon.’ She hunched up her shoulders and put her own gloves back on.
‘I hope it does.’ Darcy beamed. ‘I love winter. The smell of it in the air. Even autumn was something I really noticed this year.’ They continued their walk along Fifth Avenue, waiting for the pedestrian signal to walk.
‘Since you went off travelling you mean?’
‘Yes. Australia was nearly always warm and when it wasn’t, it was far from the cold we get here. And London, well, London was damp and we had a bit of a snow flurry but nothing like a Manhattan winter where the snow comes down and everything around you falls silent. It’s like there’s magic in the air.’
Isabella sighed. ‘Come on, you. This isn’t helping us choose a dress. Clothes first, winter talk later.’
Next up was Armani, despite Darcy’s protests that it was too expensive. The warmth was glorious and the gorgeous clothes held their interest until Isabella started going on about Myles again. ‘If you’d let him buy you something you could shop in here.’
‘Not going to happen.’
‘You could’ve had those Manolo Blahnik satin heels from Saks,’ Isabella went on.
Darcy had had enough and waited by the door until her friend had finished. They stepped out onto the sidewalk.
‘I’m sorry, Darcy,’ said Isabella as they waited to cross the street at the next block. ‘You know me. I get carried away in my own fairy-tale imagination.’
Darcy nudged her friend, her breath making white puffs in the air as she spoke. ‘I know you only want the best for me.’
‘I do.’
They crossed when the sign changed. ‘It’s just you know I’ve always liked to be completely independent. I hate the idea that I’ll be reliant on someone else.’
‘But you’re not.’
‘I know I’m not now. I don’t think I ever could be.’
Darcy let herself be persuaded to grab a hot chocolate to take away and they strolled further down Fifth Avenue drinking their beverages and chatting. ‘I’ve seen too many women hurt by people they depend on.’
‘You mean men.’
‘OK, men.’
‘But what about all those people you see who end up happy?’ Isabella batted back.
‘I’ve never admitted this to anyone else, but I think I’m scared of not having control over my own destiny.’
‘That sounds dramatic.’
‘Lachie is ancient history, but after what he did, I realised how much safer I felt doing my own thing, following my own path. If we’d stayed together, he never would’ve been happy with me travelling you know.’
‘You guys talked about it?’
‘Not at great length, but a few things he said told me he wanted a more traditional, stable home life.’
‘Then it’s better you guys broke up when you did,’ said Isabella, before adding, ‘but sometimes you need to see that it’s OK to not always be in complete control. You might find you enjoy having someone to share things with. You know, I think this date could be your turning point.’
‘Well don’t go getting too excited about it. It’s one date, that’s all. It may all come to nothing. I’ve only had a couple of brief conversations with the man, so it’s early days.’ But secretly, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it to herself, she really hoped it could develop into something more.
They finished their drinks and left the sidewalk for the warmth of an upmarket yet not over-the-top-pricey clothing store.
‘I’m sick of trying on dresses.’ Darcy was flagging already from taking all her layers off, putting them on again, then repeating it over and over at each store they reached.
‘This is gorgeous.’ Ignoring her, Isabella took out a purple ruffle dress. ‘But it’s the wrong colour.’
The shop assistant didn’t miss a thing. ‘It comes in a black also. What size do you need?’
Isabella directed the assistant to Darcy, who told her the size, and moments later there she was again in the fitting room removing her hat, scarf, coat, suit jacket, shirt. She looked at the black dress on its hanger, the smooth material, and she felt a leap of excitement at the event she was choosing this outfit for. The price was reasonable too: expensive but not ridiculously so.
‘Come on, I’m dying out here. Give me a look.’ Isabella’s impatient request carried through the fitting-room area.
‘Just a minute.’ Darcy pushed her arms into the material. She gently wriggled it over her chest and zipped it up. She stared at her reflection. ‘I’ll be out in a sec,’ she called, because she wanted to get used to a less-formal-looking Darcy before her friend voiced an opinion.
The dress, a classic black, was sleeveless to show the olive skin of her arms and had a ruffle on one shoulder, but it was simple, understated. The material at the neck sat in a flattering line across her collar bone, so she wouldn’t need a necklace, and the dress finished above her knee.
‘Wow.’ Isabella appeared in the changing room. ‘You look good in that. Your legs. I need those legs. Mine are good up to the knee, but beyond that they need to be covered.’
Darcy giggled at her friend’s assessment. ‘Your legs are just fine.’
; ‘Give me a twirl.’ Darcy did as instructed. ‘It’s gorgeous. And I know you say it’s classic, but as well as that, it’s dramatic.’ She stood next to her friend as they looked in the mirror. ‘See, at the bottom the ruffles give it an uneven hemline at the sides. And it’s perfectly nipped at the waist to flatter your figure. What colour shoes are you thinking?’
Darcy turned so she could see the back of the dress in the mirror. There were a couple of ruffles at the bottom of the skirt and the beauty of the black material was that you couldn’t see too much detail straight off but when the dress moved with you, it did so in an elegant way.
‘You could go with black,’ said Isabella, unsure.
‘I have black heels.’
‘Sparkly would be better,’ Isabella beamed. ‘Silver, teamed with a silver clutch. Do you have sparkly earrings? Perhaps studs would be best – classic and stylish.’
‘I have something,’ Darcy smiled.
‘Wait there.’ Isabella left her friend admiring her reflection but was back within less than a minute. She thrust a garment through the curtain. ‘Try this bolero jacket. You’ll need something to go from the Inn to The Plaza, and this is perfect.’
Darcy took the garment and put one arm in, then the other. It was snuggly warm, a faux-fur black bolero that didn’t detract from the shape of the dress. ‘It’s perfect.’ She smiled. ‘All we need now are shoes and a purse.’
Isabella grinned back at her. ‘I knew I’d get you enthusiastic about this somehow.’
When she was changed and the dress back on its hanger, Darcy took it out to the assistant, handed over her credit card, and, bundled up against the winter blast, she left the store one happy customer.
It didn’t take long to find a shoe store that had a great range, and Darcy had only tried on two pairs before she found the ones she wanted, a sleek pair of glittering silver stilettos that were surprisingly comfortable to wear. ‘These are perfect,’ Darcy declared.
‘As good as some of those we saw earlier?’
‘Better. And hundreds of dollars cheaper.’ She slipped her feet out of them, decided, and paid.
Snowflakes and Mistletoe at the Inglenook Inn (New York Ever After, Book 2) Page 12