‘I know you think I’m wrong.’ Scarlett scooped the froth of her coffee from the side of the mug. ‘But I figure if I do something that I have a passion for, then maybe it’ll lead me to a career I never thought of.’
‘I worry you’ll narrow your options by only focusing on what you love.’ He wanted to encourage her, help her make the right choices, just as his parents had done with him. ‘Yours is a good way of thinking about it, but don’t deny yourself future opportunities by writing off the subjects you’re not as excited about. The other, more academic –’
‘Boring, you mean.’
‘None of your subject choices will be a waste, they might even help you.’
She must’ve read the concerned look on his face because she said, ‘I’m working hard at all my A levels, not just art, Dad.’
‘Good to hear it.’ She had an undeniable talent for art, but at GCSE level he’d got her a tutor to ensure she did well in other areas too. Maybe he’d have to do the same again so that business studies and French were as much of a focus as art was for the next couple of years. Then again, if he went on about it too much, he might just push her too far and before he knew it she’d move out and never look back. ‘I think it’s time we walked off this cake,’ he suggested. Enough being paranoid about the future, at least for now.
Scarlett took out the fold-up map. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing some Christmas markets – Darcy told me there are quite a few. There’s a new one on Garland Street not far from the inn.’
He peered over at the map. ‘You haven’t been folding it up properly.’ He noted the creases in various places where she’d crumpled it to shove it in her pocket.
‘Doesn’t matter, still works perfectly fine.’
He resisted arguing the point. Maybe letting go of a bit of control could be good for the both of them. ‘I’m happy to check out the Christmas markets, but maybe later. I’d like to take you up the Empire State Building next, then go to Times Square. Both will look spectacular in the dark and if we set off now the sun will probably be starting to disappear by the time we get there. And it’s not too far to walk back to the inn afterwards.’
‘Deal, as long as we can check out the Winter Village at Bryant Park. It’s near there,’ she explained, finding it on the map to prove her point. ‘It has an ice rink.’
‘Nice try, but I’m not up for another stint just yet.’ They pulled on their coats, ready for the off.
‘Chicken.’ The way she smiled told him she’d be testing her powers of persuasion later.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
*
Nathan and Scarlett found their way back to the Inglenook Inn after the lights and buzz of Times Square, preceded by a memorable trip up the Empire State Building that gave them a different viewpoint of the city, almost like a model village with its tiny cars dotted on the streets, buildings that looked less imposing now they were dwarfed by their counterpart. They’d passed on visiting Bryant Park on the way back; even Scarlett had seen sense, with their energy levels well and truly ready for a refuel.
They stepped up to the brownstone, the huge wreath on the door made up of different textured leaves, deep-red berries, a bit of sparkle and the tartan bow to finish, a welcoming sight. Miniature pine trees framed the heavy dark-wood door and the second you stepped inside you were drawn in by the garlands winding all the way up the banisters with the delicate lights, the fireplace already going in the communal lounge and the huge Christmas tree that emitted its scent around the entire space. Nathan was sure they wouldn’t have felt anywhere near this comfortable in a hotel.
‘I think I need to go lie down upstairs,’ he declared, feeling at home, when Scarlett flopped down on the big sofa.
Darcy beckoned him in. ‘Nonsense, you can relax here. The fire is for your benefit, not mine,’ she smiled. ‘Actually, it’s for mine too.’
He sat next to Scarlett and Darcy reminded them they could eat here if they couldn’t face going out again.
Scarlett kept her voice low so she didn’t offend Darcy. ‘I’ve got my heart set on one of those big floppy slices of pizza from a takeaway joint.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ he sighed, ‘like they do in the movies. They don’t look all that appetizing to me.’
Darcy wasn’t in the least offended they wanted to venture out again after they’d topped up their energy and as Nathan sat back Darcy asked his daughter all about her favourite movies. They talked location spots in the city, some of which Scarlett had heard of, others she made a mental note to drag him to no doubt.
Darcy adjusted an ornamental fir cone dusted in frost on the tree by the window. ‘If you want street food and you’re keen to check out the Christmas markets, plus you don’t want to walk too far, then I’ve got the perfect solution.’ From the desk she plucked a leaflet, colourful and with ‘The Garland Street Markets’ emblazoned on the front. ‘This is the first year these markets have run and it’s a bit of a smaller set-up than some but should have what you’re looking for. I have a friend running a knitting stall there this year.’ She gave them the gist of the directions and turned the leaflet over to show a map. ‘It’s not far from here and the market runs along the sidewalk of Garland Street for just over a block.’
‘I’m still getting used to words like sidewalk and block,’ Scarlett admitted as she got up to nose at the ornaments hanging on the tree.
‘How’s Myles?’ Nathan asked. They’d been texting but he was always so busy.
‘He’s working hard.’
‘He’s like his dad,’ said Nathan.
‘Don’t let him hear you say that.’
‘I thought things had settled down between them. Not that he told me much, we’re men after all, but I got the impression he enjoyed spending time with his family nowadays.’
‘He does, but what his dad did in the past was let his relationships suffer because he worked too much.’ She gave a tentative smile. ‘Myles doesn’t want that to happen.’
‘I don’t blame him. And in our line of work there’s a lot of burnout. Neither of you deserves that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You seem busy too, and this place is wonderful.’
‘Myles and I are both guilty of being very career-driven. I’m so glad you like it here, but I can’t take all the credit.’
‘I bet you could take quite a bit.’
‘Thank you. I do love working here, even when it’s crazy busy.’
When her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes he got back to talking markets. ‘I think we’ll give these a try.’ He indicated the leaflet.
‘You’ll enjoy them; they’re only a twenty-five minute stroll away.’
‘Sounds good to me. And there’s no ice rink by the sounds of it, so I won’t be forced to try balancing on ridiculously thin blades again.
‘Heard that,’ Scarlett called from her position by the window. She was mesmerised by the tree, admiring the decorations. She turned to Darcy. ‘Where are all these from?’
‘Some are new, some go way back. This one is from Sofia’s daughter, who lived in Switzerland for a long time until she came back to New York a few weeks ago.’ Beneath her fingers was a cow bell, gold, with the Swiss flag on its front. ‘These nutcracker ornaments are from my sister, then there’s a ballet shoe somewhere.’
‘Here, found it.’ Scarlett pointed to one of the upper branches. ‘Were you a dancer?’
‘Hardly, but I love the Nutcracker ballet and try to go every year. It always reminds me of the start of Christmas and I like having ornaments that remind me of places.’
‘We’re the same, at home we have things I made when I was little – some are a bit embarrassing – and whenever we go somewhere new Dad and I collect another couple if we can.’
‘It’s true,’ Nathan admitted. ‘Last year she had a school trip to Edinburgh and came back with a dancing Scotsman playing a pipe, the year before I was at a conference in Miami and brought back a Miami Dolphins snow globe. He
y, I didn’t say they were tasteful ornaments,’ he added when Darcy pulled a face.
‘You know, I worked in London for a time,’ she told Scarlett. ‘See if you can spot the five London icon tree decorations.’ She excused herself to go see to a couple who’d just come in the door and were hanging their coats in the hallway, their banter debating whether it was cold enough to snow yet.
‘Whoever finds them first has to eat whatever the other one wants tonight,’ Nathan declared.
‘You’re on.’ Scarlett scanned the tree, counting at the same time, and was already at five before he’d even found his second. There was a big red London bus, a Beefeater guard, a London taxi, a Royal Mail postbox and a traditional red telephone box.
Looked like they were having floppy pizza.
*
Bundled up against the cold, Nathan found the walk to be a nice way to get the spring back in his step. As lovely as it was back at the Inglenook Inn, he would’ve fallen asleep if he’d sat in front of the fire much longer.
‘I think this is it.’ They arrived at the corner of a block and Nathan pointed ahead to the chalets.
‘Pizza first, browse after.’
‘Never thought I’d hear you say that when shopping was an option.’
‘Darcy said there’s a pizza vendor right on the end and it’s proper New York pizza.’
He followed her, negotiating tourists rushing this way and that as the wind picked up and a light drizzle seemed to turn to crystal and give them the first taste of snow in the city.
‘What do you think?’ They stood on the pavement attempting to eat the pizza, which was as floppy as they saw on television, as difficult to pick up as he’d imagined but surprisingly tasty with its herbs and stringy cheese. He folded it in half lengthways to stop his toppings sliding off and enable him to eat it much faster. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was – their snatched lunch after touring various sites and the amount of walking today had left his appetite wanting.
‘Next time we’ll try a hot dog,’ Scarlett declared. ‘And pretzels. And bagels.’
‘I’ll have to get you out running when we’re home if we’re going to eat everything in sight.’
‘We’ll see.’
The potential assent was enough to give him hope. They perused the stalls – an impressive array given the size of the market – with pastries galore, chocolate creations, cheeses laid out tantalisingly ready to tempt, gingerbread enticing youngsters and grown-ups with its rich, buttery aroma, preserves, soaps, roasted chestnuts and a cider cart.
Scarlett pointed ahead. ‘There’s the knitting stall Darcy told us about, let’s check it out.’
‘I might grab some roasted chestnuts first.’
‘The pizza wasn’t enough?’
‘You’re about half my size.’
‘True.’
While his daughter went to wade through clothing and accessories he waited for a portion of roasted chestnuts, which never failed to remind him of home. His dad had always adored them – they’d been his favourite festive treat and he’d always insisted on using the fire pit they had out back. The first Christmas without Robbie, Nathan hadn’t expected the fire pit to get any use, he thought it might bring back too many painful memories, but his dad had been outside doing his thing as though it brought him solace. Which was more than could be said of the Christmas dinner. His mum was still in pieces, Nathan and his dad had cooked it between them and held her up in the absence of the missing member of their family.
His dad had won Dawn over with the roasted chestnuts the year she was heavily pregnant with Scarlett, and right after Dawn died and Nathan had struggled through his and Scarlett’s grief and their first Christmas without her, with a sense of déjà vu set fast in his mind from having once before had to deal with a missing person at a key time of the year, they’d gone to his parents. When they arrived, without uttering a word his dad had taken out the cast-iron pan, tarnished from years of use above the flames, looked over at Nathan and he’d followed his dad outside while he lit the coals in the fire pit. Once it was going, Nathan showed Scarlett how to rinse and score the shells of the nuts, then they’d taken the morsels out to her grandad, who’d put them all into the frying pan and held them over glowing coals, the ritual like a balm for their pain. The chestnuts never took long to release the potent yet comforting smell and the family had sat there beneath blankets, thankful for each other, drawing strength from the people in the present, reflecting with sadness on all that they had lost.
‘Dad,’ Scarlett frowned at him now, at the markets, as she grabbed his sleeve. ‘I’ve been calling you for ages.’
‘Sorry, miles away.’
She nicked a chestnut and popped it in her mouth, the heat coming out in puffs when she realised how hot it still was.
‘Serves you right for taking it without asking,’ he grinned.
She managed to chew it eventually and pointed to the end of the row of chalets. ‘What do you say?’
‘What are we looking at?’
‘You need glasses, I’m telling you.’
‘No I don’t.’ Actually, he probably did. In all their traipsing of New York streets it was Scarlett who spotted the names high up on their signs first, he took longer to focus.
‘It’s a Christmas tree stall.’
‘And…?’
‘Why don’t we get one for our suite at the inn?’
‘Darcy offered us a tree, remember, and we agreed to just appreciate the trees all around the city – we wouldn’t have our decorations anyway.’
‘I know what I said, but I didn’t realise how much I’d miss that smell when I woke up in the morning. I want it so bad.’ Her hands were together against her chest in prayer.
‘You sound about four years old.’
‘It’s not Christmas without a tree when I wake up.’
‘Go downstairs to the communal lounge in your PJs, Darcy won’t mind.’
She nicked another chestnut. ‘It’s not the same, and you know it. Come on, you love a tree as much as I do. And who knows how many Christmases we might have left, what with me growing up and possibly flying the nest?’
He clutched his hand to his heart. ‘You know how to get me. OK then, suppose we get a tree, how are we going to get it back to the inn? It’s a twenty-five-minute walk and I can’t see you helping to carry it.’
‘I’m no weakling.’
‘Ask if they deliver. If they do, you’re on. If they don’t, forget it.’
She clapped her hands together, stole his last roasted chestnut and skipped off towards the tree chalet. He had to admit, he’d missed having a tree too, but without the ornaments it seemed a bit pointless. Darcy had already told them that she had a whole stash if they changed their mind about a tree and so he fired off a text to check and the reply he got back told him that the man, Mitch, running the stall was actually her supplier when it came to trees anyway, and that she was sure he’d deliver it for them if they were desperate to choose one tonight.
He thought he recognised the girl at the knitting stall as he walked past, carried along in a wave by the crowd, but he was in a city where he knew nobody, it was impossible. When he reached the tree stall, its chalet with a garland on the door, he spotted a young lad with his back to them, taking payment, flanked by two trees bedecked with white lights. There had to be at least twenty trees on display and the debris on the street that a man was sweeping up showed plenty had been here before but were already sold.
‘Found anything?’ he asked Scarlett, who was admiring a tree in the middle of a big bunch.
‘How about this one?’ she suggested.
‘Can’t really tell when it’s leaning against all the others.’
She squeezed in closer. ‘Looks about the right height, taller than me, probably slightly smaller than you.’
‘Is that your accurate method for measuring a tree?’ he mused.
‘May I help you?’ It was the man who’d been sweeping the ground when Na
than arrived. ‘You interested in this tree?’ When Scarlett nodded he tugged it up tall and held on to the trunk so they could see it in its full glory.
‘It’s taller than me,’ Nathan pointed out to Scarlett.
‘Do you deliver?’ she asked the man.
‘Sorry, afraid I don’t.’
Scarlett’s face fell. Time for Nathan to come in and save the day. ‘I had a sneaky feeling you’d say that, but I messaged the manager, the wife of a friend of mine, at the accommodation where we’re staying and she said you might be able to help me out as a special favour.’
‘And who is this manager?’ His breath came out white on the wintry Manhattan air.
‘Darcy, she runs the Inglenook Inn.’
‘You should’ve led with that.’ A smile spread across the man’s face. He’d looked serious when Nathan first clapped eyes on him but was much friendlier now. He extended a hand for Nathan to shake. ‘I’m Mitch, good to meet you. And Darcy is a good friend, she knows my wife well – long story – so I’d be happy to do you a favour. My truck is parked down the street so I can bring the tree to you when I finish up here.’
‘Great, how much for this one?’
They dealt with the preliminaries, Scarlett not able to stop herself leaning in to smell the tree, and Mitch asked the lad who’d been lurking earlier to come net the tree to make it easier to transport.
The lad kept his head down and only really looked at Scarlett, a hushed conversation exchanged between them as she watched him operate the netting machine to pull the tree tightly closed, his back still to Nathan. At least the tree wouldn’t be like the one he’d bought last year from outside a local pub that had left so many pine needles in his car that it was like the floor of a forest until he’d taken the vacuum to it. He pushed his wallet back in his pocket after he’d paid and looked around for a drinks cart. All that pizza with its salty cheese and then the nuts had made him thirsty. Scarlett was still talking away to her new-found friend and he was about to wave to her to move on when the moonlight caught the lad’s face and Nathan saw exactly who it was. He was the boy who’d stolen the money from the ground that evening in Madison Square Park, the same lad who’d stolen his wallet in Cornwall.
Christmas Promises at the Garland Street Markets: A feel good Christmas romance (New York Ever After, Book 5) Page 9