Christmas Promises at the Garland Street Markets: A feel good Christmas romance (New York Ever After, Book 5)

by Helen J Rolfe

  They finished their burgers and fries and it was time to do some more exploring. Scarlett took a ton of photos of the tree in the park first, the Shake Shack itself, bystanders and characters she thought looked interesting. ‘Where to next?’ she asked when she finally put her phone away. No doubt she’d be posting the photographs all over Instagram later tonight, but it was good to see the enthusiasm.

  ‘What would you like to do?’

  ‘Everything,’ she grinned.

  ‘Let’s leave the art galleries for now.’

  ‘I know you’re not keen, I can do those on my own.’

  ‘No, I’ll go. This is a holiday together. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘OK, so I’m not a massive art lover. But I do want to see the Met.’

  ‘There’s so much to see,’ she told him as they wandered a bit aimlessly. ‘Not just the major venues, but other things – the Whitney, The Met Cloisters, I want to see street art in Freeman Alley, Eduardo Kobra’s technicolour murals around the city.’

  ‘The what?’

  After she explained, he concluded, ‘You mean graffiti.’

  ‘It’s not graffiti, it’s art. It’s a whole project; they’re huge, iconic works. One is of Gandhi and Mother Teresa, there’s one of Albert Einstein. He did another called ‘The Braves of 9/11’ – it’s a seven-storey work of art depicting a kneeling firefighter, and the number on the fireman’s helmet is the number of firefighters who lost their lives.’

  Nathan registered her frown at his apparent ignorance and the personal angle she’d hit him with to perhaps try to persuade him not to dismiss art as frivolous, something that didn’t matter. ‘You’ve done your research, and we will make time for as much as we can.’ But he wanted to head off any argument about her future career aspirations, at least for the time being. ‘It’s the first night, we need to do something we’d both like.’

  ‘How about checking out some movie or TV locations?’

  ‘Anything in mind?’

  ‘We could see Carrie’s brownstone on the way back to the Inglenook Inn, and the Friends apartment building is down that way too.’ She took out the paper fold-up map of the city he’d given her that she’d resolutely refused to use but that she’d soon changed her mind about when she realised using an app on her phone would deplete the charge and she wouldn’t be able to take so many photos.

  He turned the map the right way up. ‘Remember we’re here for a month. Perhaps we don’t need to do it all tonight.’

  ‘What should we start with?’

  ‘Central Park.’

  ‘Central Park is huge.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting we do all of it right now.’

  ‘I hate to point out the obvious, but it’s dark.’ Although her frown lifted quickly when she said, ‘We could ice-skate.’

  ‘I was thinking more of a horse and carriage ride.’

  ‘One of those too, but ice-skating tonight. Please, Dad. I watched Serendipity last week and they were at the Wollman Rink and I really want to go. We’d be seeing Central Park plus a movie location so we’re both happy.’

  He had no desire to attempt balancing on two thin blades and end up spending more time on his arse than upright, but he wanted to make her happy. ‘I wouldn’t class it as something I want to do, but…go on, let’s do it. But it’s only fair to warn you that I’ve never done it before.’

  ‘Not even on all those ski holidays you’ve been on with mates over the years?’

  Ouch. Those ski holidays had been when she was younger; he’d left her with her mum and just buggered off. He was older and wiser now, but back then nobody had been able to get through to him. Not Dawn, not his parents and definitely not Scarlett, even when she’d been upset that Daddy was going away. ‘Not even then. We skied, we ate, but a load of blokes hitting the ice-skating rinks?’ He screwed up his nose.

  ‘About time you gave it a try then. Live a little, Dad.’

  He frowned and, with an accepting shake of her head that indicated she was already anticipating the cringeworthy dad behaviour she was about to endure, she helped him scoop up their rubbish to drop in the bin on their way past. ‘It’s going to be fun watching you.’

  *

  ‘This isn’t like the movies,’ Scarlett declared as they ventured onto the rink, her standing freely, him gripping hold of the sides for dear life. ‘In the movies the couple usually has the rink pretty much to themselves, or else they have a lot of free space, and one of them isn’t afraid to let go of the edge.’ She moved out the way of a group of lads who surely must play ice hockey in their spare time given how adept they were at zigzagging their way around, twisting and turning whenever it took their fancy. ‘Come on, let go, you can do it.’

  ‘I’m not ready,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m going to do a lap.’ She was laughing, he could tell, and not making a very good job of hiding it.

  When Scarlett turned fourteen he’d taken her and three of her closest friends up to Bath for the Christmas markets and he had hung out in coffee shops while they perused the stalls. They all met up near the Circus and they’d begged him to extend their leaving time and go to the outdoor rink in the park. Every one of them had taken to the ice and within minutes made it look so easy.

  Right now, with these wretched blades on his feet, he swore it was the bravery of youth versus the loss of courage with each year you grew older that made him so useless at this.

  All too soon Scarlett had navigated the circumference of the Wollman Rink and come back to his side. ‘You can’t spend the entire evening standing here.’

  He’d moved about a metre, cautiously, his hands never leaving the sides.

  ‘I can hold your hand if you like.’

  ‘Then I’ll make us both fall down.’ But she was holding out her hand, a gesture of closeness he wanted to make the most of. ‘Slowly,’ he urged as they set off, her gliding, him stepping a little like a demented penguin.

  They stuck close to the sides of the rink and when he wobbled he reached out to steady himself, and by some minor miracle they eventually made it all the way around.

  ‘You’re not bad for an old man,’ she smiled. ‘Look out, Dad!’ Scarlett tugged him to the side, out of the way of a family of four who had joined hands and were about to take them out.

  His arms whipped around, he dropped her hand and slumped in a heap against the side of the rink. He groaned. ‘I need to hire this place for a private session, there are far too many people.’ But when he tried to get up he kept losing his footing and gradually Scarlett’s giggles became infectious and he couldn’t get off the ice because his laughing made him so weak.

  Scarlett did her best to show him the easiest way to get back up again after a fall but once he was up he decided he’d had quite enough of balancing on dicey blades and he left her to go round a few more times. He gladly returned his ice-skates before nabbing a nearby bench with a view of the rink poised to take some pictures.

  He watched his daughter, this incredible girl with her rich, caramel-brown hair that hung in naturally round ringlets, brown eyes that danced beneath the twinkly lights sparkling against the night sky. It was hard to reconcile this version of his daughter who was becoming a woman with the kid who’d wanted picking up the second he came through the door, the same girl who’d cried the day someone at school told her there was no Santa Claus, the Scarlett who’d let him curl up beside her for weeks after her mum died. Back then they were on exactly the same wavelength; it was as though neither of them dared shut their eyes in case more of their world fell apart by the time they woke up, but gradually they’d got through it. She’d been a sensible, together girl until the last year of her GCSEs when hormones and boys came to the fore and he only hoped she didn’t make the same mistakes he had done. But he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t say it because he never wanted her to think that he resented her existence. He’d been absent enough over the years to give that impre
ssion and he was doing his best to make it up to her. Scarlett hadn’t been planned, not by a long shot, but he couldn’t imagine his world without her in it now.

  Scarlett waved every time she went past. She was having the time of her life outside in the frosty air that caught him by surprise tonight. It was cold when they’d arrived in the city, but now darkness had fallen, the temperature had dropped too. If this were the movies it would start snowing right now to make things extra perfect, the city backdrop totally spectacular, his arse wouldn’t be cold perched on this bench and he’d have become an Olympic ice dancer after one lap of the rink.

  But this was real life, and sometimes it was hard. And parenting a teen was the hardest job he’d ever have to do. Maybe this holiday would work and bring them closer together and he could stop overshadowing Scarlett’s every move trying to make up for the past when he hadn’t been there enough, or worrying about the future to the extent that he was pushing her away more than anything else.

  Chapter Four

  Amelia

  Well rested after an early night at their apartment and relieved of the responsibility of Kyle, at least for tonight while he stayed back after she’d dragged him around Central Park all day in the cold, Amelia negotiated the subway on her own, made a detour to the famous Magnolia Bakery, and found the Inglenook Inn in the heart of Greenwich Village. Dressed for winter in a fawn jumper with a slit up the side, skinny jeans and boots, along with a smart wool-blend coat, she plunged herself into the New York pandemonium. The city was so intoxicating that it was hard not to pick up on the vibe that Manhattan was filled with possibilities.

  Armed with Christmas-themed cupcakes, Amelia suspected that even if Kyle had some energy left, he’d be reluctant to spend time with three women who’d likely chat the entire evening away, and she wanted to give him enough space to get his head sorted – not so much he got in trouble but enough that she didn’t smother him.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’ Cleo hugged her tight the second she stepped inside the beautiful brownstone. ‘It’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.’

  ‘It really has.’ She hugged her fiercely and when she pulled back said, ‘New York is as amazing as you always told me it was, just like your photos.’

  ‘You’ve come at the best time of year, in my opinion. Come on, let me introduce you to Darcy.’

  Darcy had just finished on the phone and held out a hand in welcome. The professional hotelier, dressed in a navy suit with a crisp white blouse, her lustrous chestnut-brown hair pinned up in a chignon, was all smiles. ‘Welcome to the Inglenook Inn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Despite the immaculate attire and air of capability, she was open and friendly and Amelia instantly warmed to her.

  ‘This place is gorgeous.’ Amelia looked around her, taking in the interior of the inn, welcoming with its low-lit lounge, the Christmas tree all lit up and visible from the street, the fire in the grate.

  ‘Thank you,’ Darcy smiled. ‘We’re a boutique hotel but try to make it as homely as possible.’

  ‘Much nicer than a huge hotel,’ Amelia agreed, removing her coat when Darcy offered to hang it for her and Cleo took a phone call. ‘And thanks so much to you and your husband for the loan of your apartment.’

  ‘You’re happy with it?’

  ‘It’s wonderful, so much space for two of us, I’m incredibly grateful.’ She looked around her again, mesmerised by the beauty of the inn. ‘Although, I would’ve been happy coming here too. This place is really special.’

  ‘You bet it is. Now, can I get you something to drink?’ Darcy moved towards the small bar in the corner.

  ‘Orange juice for me, please.’

  ‘Are you sure? I have wine, Baileys, I can make a cocktail.’

  ‘Maybe another time. I have a teen in tow and I want to set a good example.’

  ‘Seems to be a theme.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She fixed the orange juice and dropped in a couple of ice cubes from the bucket on the bar. ‘There’s a guy staying here with his daughter and he said pretty much the same thing to me earlier when he was waiting here for her to get ready.’ She handed Amelia the drink. ‘Cleo told me your nephew has had a few problems; I hope this trip works in the way you want it to.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They moved over to the sofa nearer the fireplace as Cleo finished up on the phone and put her order in for a diet cola.

  ‘You’re not drinking either?’ Amelia commented.

  ‘I’ve been at the market stall most of this afternoon – Kaisha has taken over now but I’ll be back to it after this. Darcy kindly lets me take breaks at the Inglenook Inn and it’s way better than shivering my behind off at some coffee cart.’

  ‘Everything all right at home?’ Darcy asked Cleo, noting her frown when she handed her her drink. She bent down by the fireside to add another log as the flames bathed the Christmas tree by the window in a soft glow.

  ‘My call was from Ruby, reminding me there’s a bake sale at school the day after tomorrow and I need to make cupcakes.’

  ‘I’d buy some if I were you,’ said Darcy.

  ‘Apparently it’s frowned upon. The other mums make them from scratch, all pretty with swirly icing and little decorations.’

  ‘Other mums probably don’t run their own business, have two market stalls, four kids with two of them under the age of five either,’ said Amelia, Darcy adding her agreement too. ‘I honestly don’t know how you do it.’

  ‘I have got four kids,’ Cleo replied, ‘but I’ve got a Dylan too.’

  ‘So that’s where I’m going wrong,’ Amelia grinned. ‘I’ve only met him briefly when you brought him over to the UK but you do seem to have hit the jackpot.’

  ‘He’s a good husband and a wonderful father.’

  ‘Amelia is right though,’ Darcy put in, ‘you have a lot going on – making cupcakes is the least of your worries.’

  ‘I’ll manage it. I’ll just have to remember to get the ingredients in the morning. I can make them in the apartment kitchen above the Little Knitting Box, that way I’m still at work and multitasking.’

  ‘I’m telling you, this is why God invented places like the Magnolia Bakery,’ said Darcy, eyeing the box of cupcakes. ‘Because not everyone has time for all that competing crap.’ When Cleo opened her mouth to say something she said, ‘You know I’m talking the truth, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s true,’ Cleo told Amelia. ‘But things with Ruby are delicate enough as it is, I don’t want to do anything to upset her.’

  ‘She’s trying to push your buttons,’ said Darcy and when Amelia’s look begged the question, Cleo explained what had been going on at home.

  ‘It sounds like she’s reached the age where she’s testing you, trying to work out her place in all of this. You’d know what it was like, I remember you telling me about your stepmum Teresa.’ It dawned on Amelia that that might be the problem. ‘Is that what’s behind all this worry?’

  ‘I was a little cow. I made Teresa’s life far harder than it ever needed to be and, looking back, it probably made it more difficult for my dad too. But I thought Ruby and I were friends. She was always happy for me to be around, it’s only lately she’s changed and pushes the boundaries whenever she can.’

  ‘What does Dylan make of it all?’ Amelia asked.

  ‘He’s brushing it off like she’s just going through a stage, which she is, I know that, but from my own experience I know that stage, with all the resentment, can last well into your twenties. He’s offered to talk to her but I don’t want things to become more difficult, I don’t want her to think I’m trying to turn him against her.’

  ‘Why don’t you try talking to her yourself, ask her why she’s feeling differently?’ Amelia suggested. ‘It could all stem from one small thing she’s blown out of proportion.’

  ‘Maybe. I appreciate any suggestions from you, you’ve got the experience after all.’

  Amelia began to laugh. �
��I wouldn’t say that, and you might change your mind depending on how I handle Kyle during this trip away.’ She watched as Darcy mixed business with pleasure, interacting with another customer who came through the door, answered a phone call as well as liaising with a man called Rupert, the chef at the inn, multitasking almost like second nature to her. ‘Darcy’s lovely, so professional, so relaxed. I’ve never been able to carry that off in my own job.’

  ‘She thrives on being busy and she pretty much runs this place when the owner isn’t around.’

  ‘Where’s the owner?’

  Cleo explained Sofia’s situation: her daughter in Switzerland, the toing and froing to see her grandchildren. ‘Darcy told me earlier that Sofia is thinking of selling up and I think Darcy would love to buy this place. Myles has been working long hours again; I’m a bit worried they’re pushing themselves too hard.’

  ‘It’s prime real estate here in the city, that’s for sure. And such a gorgeous inn.’

  ‘Darcy has worked hard so she’s emotionally attached. I just hope she and Myles make the right decision.’

  ‘You don’t think they should buy the place?’

  ‘Myles and Darcy are very similar when it comes to career – they both give it their all but sometimes it can mean they neglect their relationship. They’ve had some ups and downs, they almost didn’t get married. They’re too nice a couple not to go the distance. They need to remember it’s not all about work.’ They watched Darcy disappear out of the room with one of her guests who’d just come downstairs.