Something from Tiffany’s Page 17

  Strange, but Stromboli was almost exactly how Ethan had pictured it. Warm and welcoming.

  A bit like Rachel, the thought came, unbidden.

  Stop it, he told himself, mentally smacking his forehead. He needed to stop thinking of this woman as a friend, and instead start treating her and her boyfriend as the foes they were, at least when it came to the matter at hand.

  Taking a deep breath, Ethan steeled himself to go inside, willing her to be there. Despite what he’d said about phoning beforehand, he didn’t want to give Rachel or her fiancé too much advance warning of his visit, just in case they decided to make themselves scarce.

  The bell above the front door of the restaurant jingled as Ethan walked inside, and he immediately saw that even though it was well past lunchtime, the dining room was still abuzz with customers. He was impressed. Rachel obviously did a booming business here. The feel of the place, in addition to the smell of fresh baking from the artisan bakery section, was enticing; it was rather old-fashioned and charming. To Ethan the atmosphere was almost like a mixture of cosy nights by the fireplace and breakfast in bed all wrapped into one, and he felt like he could stand all day there in the entrance, just breathing in the delicious aromas.

  ‘Hello there, can I help you?’ a pretty red-haired woman asked, and immediately he broke from his daydream and focused on her. She was dressed in jeans with a chef’s jacket over her top, and really was incredibly striking. It was the eyes, he realised. She had the biggest, widest green eyes he had ever seen.

  ‘Hello, yes. I’m here to see Rachel. Is she in?’ He sounded nervous, he realised, and once again he mentally smacked himself for being so hesitant.

  ‘She’s not due back until this evening, actually. Is there anything I can help you with?’ she asked warmly. ‘I’m co-owner of the bistro.’

  He saw that the name tag on her shirt read ‘Terri’.

  ‘Oh.’ Damn. Ethan had gambled on Rachel being here, what with it being a busy Saturday afternoon and all that. ‘Well, I suppose I should really have called first. You say she’ll be here later?’

  ‘Yes. She’s away catering an event.’ The woman was watching him with interest. ‘Can I take a message, maybe get her to give you a call when she arrives back?’

  ‘No need, thanks. Perhaps I’ll just pop back later.’ Again, Ethan was banking on the benefit of surprise.

  ‘Well, it shouldn’t be more than an hour or so till she gets in.’ The woman’s gaze dropped to the carry-on case Ethan held by his side, and she looked at him speculatively. ‘In the meantime, you look like you’ve been on the road. Fancy a bite to eat while you wait?’ she suggested.

  Ethan thought about it. He’d missed lunch and hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the food here really did smell awfully appetising . . .

  ‘If you have a free table, yes, I’d love that. Thank you.’

  ‘Not a problem. Just this way.’ Terri led him through to an empty table near the back of the dining room. ‘You’ll have to forgive me but this is all we’ve got left; we’re so busy at the moment. Usually the rush tapers off after lunch, but today is particularly busy,’ she said, motioning to the crowded room.

  ‘Well, if the food tastes anything like it smells, I can understand why,’ he replied, and Terri smiled as she handed him the menu.

  ‘Thank you. Now are you sure I can’t do anything for you myself? My name is Terri. As I said, I’m Rachel’s business partner.’ She held her hand out, and Ethan somehow got the impression that he was being railroaded into an introduction. Well, if he was going to wait around, he supposed it wouldn’t matter.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Terri. I’m Ethan Greene.’

  A flutter of recognition immediately dawned on her face. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yes, Rachel was expecting you.’

  He was slightly taken aback. ‘Really? Because I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to call—’

  ‘I’ve heard all about you.’ She smiled broadly. ‘I think what you did for Gary was wonderful.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Ethan looked up, momentarily wrong-footed.

  ‘Well, for helping him out in New York, of course.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course.’

  ‘And very nice of you to come by to check up on him too.’

  ‘Yes. Would he be here by any chance?’

  Terri chuckled. ‘No, no, Gary doesn’t work here. Actually, he doesn’t spend a whole lot of time here at all, unless it’s to be fed or watered,’ she added, her tone wry as she fussed over the table setting. ‘But I’m sure he’d love to see you, so he could thank you again and you two could catch up. After all, if it weren’t for you, he might not be with us at all.’

  Ethan noticed something in Terri’s voice, something that sounded like sarcasm, but he wasn’t sure if it was directed towards him or Gary.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Well, I haven’t met Mr Knowles at all as it happens.’

  ‘Not at all?’ she repeated, coming to an abrupt stop.

  ‘Well, no, not officially. He was unconscious when I reached him, and I didn’t manage to speak with him at the hospital either.’

  ‘You’ve never even spoken to him?’ Terri narrowed those expressive green eyes slightly, and for some reason Ethan almost felt like he was under a microscope.

  ‘Well, no. As I said, he was unconscious.’

  He wasn’t sure where this was going and was reluctant to say too much just in case this woman was in on Gary Knowles’s scam. ‘I tried, of course . . . because my daughter was anxious to see if he was OK in the end. She’s only eight, you see, and was a little shaken by it all.’

  ‘I see.’ Terri smiled then and there was definitely something behind it, Ethan was sure of it. He felt awkward. The conversation was rather strange and it certainly seemed like Terri was fishing for something. Was it possible that she knew about the mix-up and was in on the deception? He wanted to ask her point-blank if she knew about the ring, but realised he couldn’t realistically divulge such information, not yet anyway, and especially not to anyone other than Gary or Rachel.

  ‘So, seeing as I’m here on a spot of business this weekend, I thought I’d call by on the off chance—’

  ‘Oh I almost forgot, let me get you our wine menu,’ Terri said, interrupting him.

  All of a sudden, she rushed off and Ethan watched her go. Near the entrance to the kitchen, he saw her tap an older man, who looked to be some sort of chef, on the shoulder. She whispered something in his ear, and then both of them turned back to look at Ethan.

  Immediately, he felt himself blush and turn away. He had no idea what was going on here, but hoped that Rachel would appear soon, so he could do his business and leave.

  Seconds later Terri was back with another menu, and for some reason also with the man she had been speaking to. ‘This is Justin, he’s our chef. Justin, this is Ethan Greene, the man responsible for saving Gary’s life on Christmas Eve.’ This time there was no mistaking that undercurrent to her tone, he was certain of it.

  Justin nodded and smiled at Ethan. ‘Ah, our famous New York hero. It’s so nice to meet you.’

  By now, Ethan wasn’t sure who the butt of the joke was, but he sorely hoped it wasn’t him. He nodded briefly at the chef. ‘Yes, nice to meet you too.’

  ‘So Ethan was just telling me that he and his daughter took care of Gary after the accident. Wasn’t that good of him?’

  ‘Very good of him,’ Justin agreed sagely.

  Ethan looked up. Something was going on here; these two knew something, didn’t they? But what to say or do? Should he admit to these strangers the real reason he was here, or just wait until Rachel arrived and speak to her? The problem was that Ethan had no idea which, if either, party would be on his side.

  ‘I’m sorry, but is there any chance I could order some food?’ he asked pointedly. ‘I’m actually quite hungry.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Terri soothed. With that, the chef duly headed back towards the kitchen and Ethan breathed a
momentary sigh of relief.

  ‘So what can I get you, Mr Greene?’ she asked, her tone now all sweetness and light. So much so that Ethan wondered if he’d been imagining that she and her colleague had been interrogating him.

  Feeling rather light-headed and more than a little stupid, he looked down the menu.

  Clearly this entire thing was messing with his mind and driving him crazy.

  Chapter 20

  Daisy was worried, although she tried to tell herself there was little reason to be. According to her best friend, Tanya, her dad had a greater chance of being stampeded by a herd of donkeys than he did of being killed in an airline crash, but still she didn’t like the idea of him being so many miles up above the ground like that, and especially not without her.

  Once her dad had left for the airport, Vanessa had suggested that after returning from Daisy’s piano class after lunch they should load up on popcorn and junk food and watch movies on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. Daisy thought this was a great idea; normally, she always tried her best to eat healthy food as a good example to her dad. It would be nice to just gorge out on ice cream and crisps without having to worry about being a bad influence. As far as she knew, eight-year-old girls didn’t have to worry about cholesterol or heart problems, not yet anyway.

  About halfway through the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie, Vanessa put her hands in the air and yawned. ‘I wonder how your dad will get on in Dublin?’ she said casually.

  Daisy shrugged and spooned out some ice cream. ‘Fine, as long as he gets the ring from Rach—’ Too late, she paused, immediately realising she’d forgotten herself and spoken out of turn.

  Vanessa sat up ramrod straight and turned to stare at her. ‘What did you say?’

  Daisy reddened furiously, and looked hard at the Ben & Jerry’s carton she was eating from. ‘I mean, as long as he gets to do his research for Rachel.’

  ‘That’s not what you said, Daisy.’ Vanessa’s voice took on an edge that Daisy didn’t like. ‘What’s going on here? I thought Rachel was supposed to be an agent in New York. Why would he be seeing her in Dublin?’ She paused slightly. ‘And what’s all this about a ring?’

  Daisy wouldn’t meet her gaze. ‘Nothing. That’s not what I meant. I meant that Dad just has to do loads of research for his book . . . so he can get it ready for Rachel,’ she mumbled, but inside she was panicking like mad.

  Oh no, her dad would kill her!

  Although not if his girlfriend did first, and from the way Vanessa was looking at her, Daisy was worried that this was a real possibility.

  Vanessa was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. ‘Daisy, there’s something going on here that I don’t know about, isn’t there?’

  Daisy’s eyes were glued to the TV, where Johnny Depp was doing something silly. ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, you can tell me, I promise. I’m thinking your dad hasn’t gone to Ireland to do research like he said. We both know that, don’t we?’

  ‘He has, honestly.’ Daisy’s lip trembled. ‘Look, I don’t know why I said that . . . about Rachel, I mean. I just got confused because we were talking about Dad’s book, and she was talking about it when we met her in New York . . .’ She really wished Vanessa would stop going on about it. Why did she have to be so suspicious about what her dad was doing? It wasn’t as if they were married or anything.

  Yet.

  ‘So this Rachel, she’s the agent from New York?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The one in your drawing? The pretty woman?’ Vanessa asked and Daisy looked at her. Why did she have to go and put Rachel in her drawing? Now it seemed like Vanessa was suspicious about that too.

  She nodded vigorously, trying to make it all look innocent and normal, and hoped that it would be enough to make Vanessa stop talking and just watch the movie. There was this big fight scene between Johnny and Orlando Bloom going on, and she tried her best to concentrate on it.

  ‘So she’s definitely an agent from New York – not from Ireland?’

  ‘I think so.’ Daisy was deliberately non-committal while she thought like crazy, trying to remember what her dad had told Vanessa about Rachel being an agent.

  Oh this was all her dad’s fault for not telling Rachel everything that day at the hospital. She was so nice and she would have understood. Daisy was certain of it. And maybe then Vanessa wouldn’t be pestering her with all these questions now.

  ‘Honey, what were you and your dad really doing in New York?’ Vanessa asked.

  ‘What?’ Daisy mumbled, feeling decidedly cornered now.

  ‘All of those times you two kept disappearing, where were you really going?’

  ‘Erm . . .’ She was now staring intently into the bottom of the ice-cream carton again, willing herself not to say another word.

  ‘Daisy, you can tell me. Honestly, it’s OK.’

  ‘No. My dad said—’

  Vanessa went very still all of a sudden. ‘Your dad said what?’

  Her heart pounded in her chest. ‘My dad said not to tell,’ she replied in a very small voice. Oh God, Dad was seriously going to kill her!

  ‘Not to tell me what?’ Vanessa’s voice was stern, sort of the way Daisy’s piano teacher sounded when she got the notes wrong. ‘Daisy, look at me. I asked you a question.’

  Tears filled her eyes. ‘I can’t!’ she cried. ‘I really can’t! It was supposed to be a surprise.’

  Then Vanessa’s face changed, as did her voice. ‘A surprise?’ she repeated, sounding much more like the old Vanessa. ‘What kind of a surprise, darling? For you, for your dad . . . or for me, even? And who is Rachel really . . . how does she come into it? Daisy, you have to tell me. Please.’

  But by then Daisy had had more than enough of the questions. She tossed the carton of ice cream aside and stood up, tears stinging her eyes. ‘I don’t want to watch movies any more.’ She headed towards her bedroom but Vanessa stopped her.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to upset you . . . I just—’

  ‘Leave me alone,’ she said, shrugging her off. ‘I don’t feel like talking any more either.’

  ‘Of course, of course, whatever you want.’ Vanessa ran a hand through her long hair, as Daisy stomped past.

  In the safety of her bedroom, Daisy fretted about what had happened and a knot of worry settled into the pit of her stomach. She’d ruined everything, hadn’t she? She’d said something very stupid, and even though she’d tried to cover up the part about the ring, she knew Vanessa would be even more suspicious now and would probably be able to guess.

  She stood by the window and looked out across the park in front of their house. Why, oh why did that stupid man have to get knocked down in New York? And why did her dad have to help him? If they hadn’t done that then he would have given Vanessa the ring on Christmas morning, and everything would have happened the way it was supposed to.

  Instead, he had to go and try to get it back off that woman they’d met at the hospital, who seemed really nice.

  Of course, if she’d taken better care of the Tiffany’s bag . . .

  Then Daisy thought of something. She pictured her mother showing her the various necklaces and bracelets she’d collected over the years, and remembered what her mum used to say about Tiffany’s being a special, magical place.

  Daisy had always been fascinated by her mum’s jewellery collection as well as all her lovely clothes and shoes, which she vaguely remembered playing with when she was small and her mum was still here. She knew her dad had kept some things in storage for her when she was old enough to wear them, and she couldn’t wait. Her mum had the nicest things.

  But she thought again about her mum’s exact words.

  ‘A little bit of Tiffany’s magic sprinkles happiness on everything, Daisy,’ she’d said, and the man Daisy and her dad had spoken to in the store had agreed.

  Which meant that maybe the things that came from Tiffany’s were magical too – enchanted . . . kind of like the enc
hanted forest in Sleeping Beauty.

  So maybe everything that happened in New York happened for a reason, like in a fairy tale. Maybe the bags getting mixed up hadn’t been her fault at all? Maybe it was magic that had made it happen so that really it was Rachel and not Vanessa who was supposed to get the ring?

  After all, if the ring fitted Rachel’s finger, then maybe she was the one her dad was supposed to marry, like in Cinderella, when the glass slipper would only fit the right girl for the prince?

  Daisy’s heart raced with excitement. She would get her dad to find out if the ring fitted Rachel’s finger, and if it did then . . .

  Suddenly realising she was being silly, she shook her head, trying to make the stupid thoughts go away. Chances were the ring didn’t fit Rachel at all. Daisy might only be eight, but she really should be old enough to realise that life wasn’t quite like it was in the storybooks.

  Instead, her dad would straighten things out with Rachel in Dublin, and come back with the ring. Then he would ask Vanessa to marry him, she would accept and they would all be a family, like her dad always wanted. That’s the way it would work out, Daisy told herself.

  That was real life.

  ‘Ethan – hello!’ exclaimed a voice behind him, and Ethan turned his head to see Rachel standing in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at him. ‘Terri and Justin told me you were here. Delighted you had time to call in and see us.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t mind my arriving unannounced. My meeting ended earlier than expected, you see, and . . .’ He trailed off, not wanting to get into too many details.

  ‘Not at all; it’s lovely to see you again. And I hope Terri and Justin have been taking good care of you?’

  Ethan looked down at his near-empty plate. The paella he’d chosen was one of the most delicious he’d ever eaten, and the accompanying sourdough was almost literally out of this world. ‘Yes, they’ve been great. This is magnificent.’ He wasn’t about to add that her colleagues had also played twenty questions upon his arrival.