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

by Helen J Rolfe

  Next up was purse shopping. They needed to match it to the shoes and in the store next door they found the perfect silver clutch that glittered when it caught the light.

  ‘Just one coffee,’ Isabella begged when they were done.

  ‘I really have to get back to the Inn,’ Darcy insisted.

  ‘Then I’ll come to you. You can give me odd jobs to do if you like. I don’t mind helping out.’

  Darcy couldn’t hold her laughter in. ‘You only want to gawp at Myles Cunningham, I’m not silly.’

  ‘I’m your friend; it’s important I make an assessment of him.’

  Darcy linked her arm through Isabella’s, in a thoroughly good mood now she had something to wear on her date. ‘Fine, come on then.’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘And thanks so much for today. I couldn’t have done it on my own.’

  ‘You wait. My sister is getting married next year and I’m going to make you come with me to find a bridesmaid dress. I need to find something suitable so I can guide her away from anything frilly or pastel. Pastels make me look ill.’

  *

  True to her word, Isabella helped Darcy out back at the Inn. She swept the hallway while Darcy answered the phone and started the fire going in the grate. While Darcy gave directions for the O’Sullivan family to find Battery Park, Isabella neatened up the newspapers on the table and wiped down the side tables.

  ‘For some reason,’ Isabella began, ‘doing this is a lot nicer than cleaning my own place.’

  ‘I think this place is even worse at the moment because of the glitter that comes with Christmas decorations.’ Darcy grimaced.

  ‘Ah, that’s why, it’s like sweeping up fairy dust,’ Isabella grinned. She tugged on her coat and took the broom from the closet in the hallway. ‘I’ll sweep the stoop.’

  Darcy almost called after her that it was probably icy already given the plummeting temperatures outside, and that it was so dark she wouldn’t be able to see a thing. But with the time bang on six thirty, Darcy knew full well Isabella had an ulterior motive for doing all of this. She was trying to hang around long enough to see Myles, and by hovering outside she’d most likely get her wish.

  Her suspicions were confirmed moments later when she heard Isabella chatting animatedly and a male voice carried through the door as her friend returned inside.

  ‘It’s freezing out there.’ Isabella had a coat on but her hands were bare.

  Serves you right for being so nosy, Darcy thought, but didn’t give away her amusement.

  ‘It’s a bit icy for sweeping,’ said Myles, but Isabella dismissed the concern saying it was the first impressions that counted with guests. Darcy suspected Myles was onto Isabella as much as she was.

  ‘These came for you.’ Darcy handed him a couple of envelopes that had come in the mail today. Not many guests had mail delivered but he was here a lot longer than most, so she guessed it was inevitable.

  ‘Thank you.’ He reached out and took the mail, his skin briefly making contact with Darcy’s.

  Isabella, the broom propped under one hand, was looking from Myles to Darcy and back again as though trying to read their faces.

  ‘Is there any chance of an evening meal tonight?’ Myles asked. Darcy wondered if he’d be more conversational if Isabella wasn’t lurking in the background.

  ‘Of course.’ Darcy left her friend pretending to straighten the garlands on the stairs beside them and found the menu. She handed it to Myles, who had one foot on the bottom step, ready to go up, take off his coat, dump his briefcase. He didn’t take long to choose the lasagne with salad, said he’d eat in the dining room this evening, and Darcy went off to confirm with Rupert.

  ‘Stop looking at me like that.’ When she came back from the kitchen, Isabella was still leaning on the broom handle, fit to burst with comments.

  ‘Like what?’ Isabella did her best to look innocent.

  Darcy returned to the lounge and added another log to the fire. It didn’t take long for the flames to envelope it and roar away, heating the room to its optimum. Dating a guest wasn’t something she’d planned, and she hoped it wasn’t going to compromise her professionalism here at the Inn.

  She turned to her friend. ‘Am I mad? Mixing business with pleasure is bound to be a recipe for disaster.’

  ‘Darcy,’ Isabella smiled, ‘he’s gorgeous. Do me a favour. Give yourself a break and just go with it.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Myles

  Myles opened his mail and shook his head at the Christmas card from his parents. The piece of mail that tried to show everyone they were a normal family when they had a long way to go to achieve that status.

  By the time he went downstairs to eat dinner, Darcy’s friend had gone. He’d known she was assessing him on Darcy’s behalf and he hadn’t minded one bit. Sometimes he wished men had the same camaraderie rather than remaining tight-lipped, revealing nothing about their feelings.

  Darcy smiled at him as he passed by to go to the dining room. She was on the phone, and each time he saw her, he expected her to say she’d changed her mind about accompanying him to the Christmas party. She was professional, serious, independent, and he sensed she didn’t like mixing business with pleasure. He didn’t do it much himself, but this was different. He wondered what he’d have done if Darcy had said no. Would he have called the escort agency? Would he have let someone else set him up?

  He tucked into the lasagne, which was the perfect food for this kind of weather. He’d have to make it out for a run in the morning or he wouldn’t fit into his tux for The Plaza.

  ‘Is everything all right for you, sir?’ Rupert approached the table.

  ‘Please call me Myles. It took ages to persuade Darcy to, but I much prefer it.’

  ‘Very well. Myles it is.’ Rupert smiled. ‘Can I get you a glass of wine? The dessert menu?’

  ‘I’ll pass thanks, but the lasagne was great.’

  Rupert thanked him for the compliment and took his plate away. If the man was tired after so many shifts at the Inn, he didn’t show it.

  Disappointed he didn’t see more of Darcy, Myles decided he was going to have to rectify that and went upstairs to pick up the gift he’d bought. He’d wanted to buy Darcy something special to show his appreciation for her coming to this party with him, for agreeing to go on a date, for taking a chance on him. There were plenty of flowers dotted around the Inn – a vase of what looked like lilies on the table just outside his apartment entrance, another arrangement of deep red blooms on the next floor down as you rounded the stairwell, although he was no expert on varieties of anything, having never had his own garden to play with or the time to do so – so he’d passed that idea by.

  ‘Hey, Darcy.’ He’d already adopted the American ‘hey’ around work and the Inn, and he attempted to sound more confident than he really felt now he was in front of her as she sat at the desk, brow creased in concentration.

  ‘Hello, Myles. How was your dinner?’

  ‘It was wonderful, thank you. You have a superb chef.’

  ‘We do. And I hear the lasagne is the best. The O’Sullivan family all seemed to think so.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s usually a crowd-pleaser. Not something I’ve ever made myself. I imagine it takes a while.’

  Silence hovered between them until she asked, ‘Can I get you anything else?’

  ‘I’ll take a bourbon if I may.’

  ‘Sure.’ She seemed glad of something to do and went to the bar area to fix the drink.

  ‘Don’t you get tired of never switching off?’ He looked at the time, already nine o’clock.

  ‘I could ask you the same.’

  ‘I’m here now, I’m switched off.’ That wasn’t strictly true. His mind had pinged back and forth between work things at dinner as much as personal stuff.

  ‘Well, I don’t have the luxury today. I’ve been out shopping for the majority of the afternoon.’

  ‘Buy anything nice?’

  Sh
e turned to face him and allowed a trace of excitement to show on her face. ‘I have a dress, shoes and a purse for the party. Let’s just hope I leave before midnight or the sequins and heels might turn into my boring work clothes again.’

  He wasn’t sure how to react to the hint of a Cinderella reference but she seemed to be making the remarks in good spirits. He took the gift from his pocket. ‘I hope these go with the outfit.’

  She looked at it, the box wrapped in silver paper with a white bow. ‘For me?’

  ‘It’s a small gift to say thank you for agreeing to go with me. Thank you for saving me from hiring someone, which would be so demeaning if I’m completely honest. And…well it’s also to say that I’m looking forward to it.’

  She took the box.

  ‘Open it, go on,’ he urged.

  She looked around, uneasy at the intimate gesture in her workplace. She tugged at the end of the bow and it unravelled so she could pull off the paper and reveal the box inside. She opened it up.

  ‘I hope they’re suitable. I went for diamonds, they go with everything.’

  She looked at him, the gift ensconced in her palm. She looked at the earrings sparkling back at her cheekily. But then she shut the box. ‘I can’t accept them.’ She handed it to him.

  ‘Why not? It’s a gift, from me to you.’

  ‘I already have earrings I can wear.’

  ‘You don’t like them?’ His heart sank. The earrings were classic, beautiful, not at all over the top. Just like Darcy.

  ‘It’s not that.’ She walked over to the fire. She lifted the glass panel and used the poker to jostle what was inside. The flames obeyed and flickered higher. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’ She didn’t look happy now.

  ‘I really don’t.’ He kept hold of the little box containing the earrings he’d carefully chosen with Darcy in mind. ‘You’ll have to explain it to me.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ The phone rang and she answered it.

  Myles turned and walked over to the window. He looked out at the row of brownstones opposite, their own Christmas decorations battling each other over who could be the brightest, the shiniest, the talk of Manhattan. From what he could gather she was talking to another guest due to arrive tonight, directing them from the Washington Square Arch, an ideal landmark if you were ever lost trying to find the Inn.

  ‘Another guest?’ he asked the second he knew her call had come to an end. He thought he’d adopt the nothing-wrong-here approach and see how it went down.

  ‘Yes, checking in tonight.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve given him directions. He’s only a few blocks away, so won’t be long.’

  He wondered if the intended implication was that he shouldn’t be hanging around, but he wanted to clear this up. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s the last thing I wanted to do.’

  ‘I appreciate the gesture, but it’s really unnecessary.’

  He sighed. ‘Don’t you accept gifts from boyfriends?’ He felt a prize idiot for referring to himself in that way. It made him sound as though he was back in school, fumbling for the right words to ask a girl to the dance.

  ‘That’s just it.’ Her voice softened. ‘We haven’t been out on a date yet.’ Coyly, she added, ‘At least wait until the third or fourth date to shower me with diamonds.’

  Appreciating the lighter atmosphere, he offered her the box again. ‘Please, take them.’

  ‘They look like they’re expensive.’

  This was a woman who couldn’t be bought. Whoever ended up with her would have to earn his place and her respect. ‘They were. And you know what happens if you return earrings?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘They refuse to exchange or refund. Hygiene reasons apparently.’

  ‘Actually, I have heard that somewhere.’ She held his gaze.

  He pushed the box forwards again. ‘So…’

  ‘Myles Cunningham.’ She shook her head but this time reached out for the box and her smile matched what he’d hoped to see when she laid eyes on the three-dimensional diamonds that captured the delicate symmetry of sunflowers. ‘They’re beautiful, really.’

  ‘Try them on.’

  When there was a knock on the front door she said, ‘You’ll have to wait until our date.’ And with that she was off to greet the new guest.

  Myles left her to it. He’d come down and done what he’d aimed to do, which was give her the gift and put her at ease, make sure she was looking forward to their date as much as he was.

  He made it to the next floor, rounded the staircase as tiny lights twinkled from the garlands showered in a glittery frost finish, but before he reached the foot of the next staircase, the voice of the latest guest to check in at the Inn had him stopping in his tracks.

  It couldn’t be, could it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy

  Seven days until Christmas

  Darcy struggled when her alarm went off to start another day. She loved what she did, loved the newly appointed role at the helm of the Inn, but she wasn’t immune to the morning blues, especially after a fitful night’s sleep.

  Darcy wasn’t used to her feelings yo-yoing up and down at their own will. First the gift from Myles had taken her by surprise, and as soon as she’d made peace with that and accepted it as a nice gesture from someone she would like to get to know better – if she could forget her misgivings about relationships and dependence – her new guest had shown up and toppled the world on its axis. At least that’s what it had done for Myles, and he was back to being the same man she’d always assumed he was: aloof and unreachable, with a harder side that she hadn’t seen for a while.

  Her latest guest had been a last-minute booking, secured with a credit card in the name of Martha King. As it turned out, the man’s wife had booked the accommodation for him and his surname wasn’t King, but Cunningham – a name that was, by now, familiar.

  Myles’s father had travelled all the way over from England to talk to his son and when the two men met in the hallway last night Darcy could’ve cut the tension with the knife Rupert had sharpened that morning as she’d stood talking to her chef about what needed to be added to the list of groceries to replenish the apartments upstairs.

  Darcy savoured the solitude of Sofia’s apartment a while longer. She loved it here, cocooned in her own four walls. Sofia was a minimalist, or at least that’s what she would have you believe – she claimed it was the way she needed to be if she wanted guests to stay here. She only had this small section of the Manhattan brownstone now, with a modest kitchen, a nice sized bedroom, a newly fitted bathroom and a lounge area with a small dining table and two sofas sitting at right angles. Heavy drapes framed all the windows but when pulled back they let the light of the day spill into the room whenever the seasons allowed.

  Darcy cradled a hot mug of tea and perched on the window seat in the bedroom. She drew her legs up, leaned against the wall and sipped the steaming liquid. The city hadn’t gone to sleep last night but rather dozed as fitfully as she had, with the odd siren, the odd yell from someone out either too late or far too early, and the sound of trucks getting around before the rush hour commenced, delivering to local delis, stores, restaurants, and keeping the city operating as though those things never really happened. She’d seen a programme about it once, about how the city operated, and it was true. You did forget everything that went on behind the scenes. Only the finished product mattered. Standing in Grand Central Terminal you never considered the computer systems on a level beneath you that kept trains on time and screens updated; sitting in a restaurant you didn’t think about the buyers out at the markets in the early hours while everyone else was tucked up in bed, ensuring only the freshest and best produce made it to their tables.

  Darcy had always wanted to be a part of the service industry and she’d loved her studies as well as her travel. And now, the Inn was giving her everything she wanted, and when situations arose she felt ready to adapt to them and change accordingly. Last
night had been the perfect example.

  ‘I apologise,’ her latest guest had said when she took his credit card and realised the difference in surnames. ‘My wife booked the accommodation, but here’s my card to secure the room for any additional charges.’

  Darcy was back to being the host. None of this was her business. But the tension hovered in the air as Myles appeared in the lounge doorway, hands deep in his pockets, waiting for this man who Darcy could only assume was his father.

  The man was very polite. He’d insisted on being called Ian – much like Myles had insisted on his Christian name being used when they first met – and he said thank you for the offer of food but he’d already eaten. Myles had waited in the wings the entire time and Darcy had been at odds over what to do. Usually she would take new guests up to their rooms, show them in, list the supplies they’d included for their stay.

  In the end she’d decided to continue as though nothing was out of the ordinary. It could possibly give Myles some breathing space, both men the time to think before they spoke. ‘Mr Cunningham…sorry, Ian.’ She smiled at this man who had every ounce of his son’s charm. ‘Let me show you to your apartment.’ She picked up his small suitcase from where it stood in the hallway.

  ‘No, no, no.’ Ian grabbed it right back. ‘I couldn’t possibly allow a lady to carry this. I’ll manage.’

  ‘There are a few stairs.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m too old?’ He pretended to look put out but she shared the joke, smiled, and then at Myles’s discomfort got on with the job intended. She showed Ian upstairs but Myles didn’t follow. She ran through the basics: the kitchen area, where the smoke alarm was, the leaflets of attractions in the city, the complimentary food items, how the safe worked.

  Eventually she left him to it and as she passed Myles on the stairwell she put a hand to his arm. He looked at it touching his sleeve and nodded that he was OK. Both men had gone up to the top floor and she hadn’t heard from them again.