The Gift of a Charm Read online

  Greg nodded, digging into a beet soup. It was stone cold and made absolutely no sense on such a frigid day. He had only ordered it because the old lady had barked, ‘Beet soup?’ at him and he had nodded, afraid to contradict her. He was hungry, but food was far from his mind.

  The men ate in an enjoyable silence for a while, until Greg finally broke it when the beers arrived. ‘I feel bad asking, seeing as you’ve already done so much, but do you think you could check something out for me?’

  Rob nodded uncertainly and listened as Greg outlined his request.

  When he’d finished, his friend looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘You’re sure about this?’

  Greg stiffened. ‘What – the proposal or the favour?’

  ‘Well … the favour of course. I’ve got to tell you, Christmas morning could be a little tricky, but I’ll certainly ask. Will’s a buddy – he might OK it.’

  ‘Thanks, man. I owe you a lot.’

  ‘You sure do.’ Rob took a swig of his beer. ‘So you really think Karen’s the one?’

  ‘I know it.’

  ‘How is she feeling about the big lifestyle change?’ he asked carefully. ‘Shit-hot broker to lowly shutterbug?’

  Greg let out a breath. ‘It’s been hard on her, I know that. But we’ll get through it. There are worse things,’ he added, thinking of what his poor dad had been dealing with.

  Definitely worse things.

  Chapter 16

  Outside the gallery, Holly fumbled with her phone for a moment as she juggled her handbag. She pulled her coat tighter around her as a brisk arctic blast of air hit her in the face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jessica, I’m here. Sorry, struggling a bit. This weather is pretty rough today.’ Holly smiled into the phone, just as another torrent of wind flung a strand of hair in her mouth. ‘Eek, OK, out of the wind now.’ She moved into a doorway that provided some level of shelter.

  ‘No problem,’ Margot Mead’s assistant said. ‘I’ve been in the penthouse since six a.m. Most times I can barely remember what sunlight is.’

  Holly bit her lip, thinking that working for a woman like that was probably no easy task. She was already picturing Jessica as one of those twenty-two-year-olds who wore black from head to toe, invested in spray tans and had bleached-blonde hair.

  She probably bought expensive Christian Louboutin heels with her below-average pay-cheque, and chose to eat ramen noodles in her tiny apartment. All just so she could keep up with appearances. But then again, that was the life of a young, trendy New Yorker who was probably desperate to break into the upper echelons of the city.

  ‘Well, I hope you get out soon. The winter weather is rather lovely, so long as the wind doesn’t blow you over. Days like today remind me of a snow globe. From the outside everything looks fine, then you shake it and it all gets jumbled up.’

  There was silence on the other end of the line, as if Jessica was thinking about the analogy. When she finally answered, she said, ‘Huh, I guess I’m more of a beach girl.’

  Of course she is, Holly thought with a smile. Quickly, she changed the subject.

  ‘So you were calling about the egg charm. What can you tell me?’

  ‘Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is when you sent over the photograph, I immediately recognised the charm as something that was earmarked as a prize for one of our bigger benefits. We kept records of the purchase, but unfortunately the bad news is, we don’t keep records as to who might have won it.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Holly said glumly, her mind racing to consider other options. ‘So, there is no record at all of the winner?’

  ‘Nothing,’ answered Jessica, reconfirming her own statement.

  A thought occurred to her. ‘You said it was used at a benefit?’

  ‘Yes, as I said, Ms Mead is involved with many charities.’

  ‘Great. So what was the purpose of this particular benefit – I mean, what charity was it in aid of?’ She was wondering again about the pink ribbon charm.

  ‘I’m not sure about that – we’re involved with lots of big events. It was bought in autumn last year, so it could have been one of many. There was a breast cancer event that would have been in October…’ Holly heard a shuffle of paper and a pause. ‘Then there was the environmental “thing” in November, and then the children’s benefit in December.’

  Holly thought quickly and some type of recognition of something played around the edges of her brain. She extracted the bracelet from her handbag and shuffled quickly through the charms, wondering if there was something that could be related to the environment – the one that looked like a flower, perhaps? The pink ribbon charm could also hypothetically connect the owner to the breast cancer benefit in October.

  ‘Could you by chance get me a list of the people who were at those events?’ Holly asked, thinking that if the gallery owner sent her the freelancer information in the meantime, she might be able to cross-reference this with the names of the people attending Margot Mead’s benefits.

  Once again she heard Jessica sigh. Clearly this sort of task was outside her pay grade.

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, I have a ton to do and with Christmas in a few days, I just don’t know if I can pull this sort of information. I have to finish up all Ms Mead’s shopping, and I’m still arranging for couriers for some of these other gifts for her friends, and then I am trying to get New Year’s Eve finalised. I don’t know when I am going to do my own Christmas shopping, and I have my parents coming to town tomorrow for the holidays. As it is, I’ll be lucky if I get to spend five minutes with them, let alone have any time off. Ms Mead already said how she was going to need me to deliver something on Christmas Eve, and I just know that this is going to carry over on to Christmas itself and, well,…’ Jessica stopped talking and Holly could practically feel the stress coming from the other end of the line. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for her; Holly was sure it was hard to do other people’s bidding all day, especially when it left you no time to do your own.

  An idea popped into Holly’s head, and she prayed that this level of bribery would work.

  ‘Jessica, you don’t know how much this would mean to me if you could pull those lists for me. I know it is just a few days before Christmas, and I know just how hard you must work. If there is any way that you can get the names of the people who attended the benefits, and possibly email them to me, I would truly appreciate it. And just to show my gratitude, if you wanted to swing by the store I work at sometime, maybe when you are out running some errands, I would be happy to let you use my staff discount on anything you might like. We have some really fantastic party dresses in stock right now, and you sound like the type of girl who probably has big plans for New Year’s Eve.’

  There was a pause, and Holly held her breath.

  ‘I have to work New Year’s Eve,’ Jessica said tartly. ‘Like I said, there’s a benefit. I mean, I love my job, but I’m still working.’

  Holly couldn’t help but think that while it might be glamorous to be an attendee at some of these benefits, it was probably a different story when you were handling guest lists and juggling the desires of your employer.

  ‘I see,’ Holly said, trying to figure out how she could spin this. ‘Well, I bet you still need a new dress for it, though? I’d imagine dealing with wardrobe changes for all of Ms Mead’s events can get expensive. I bet it also gets tiresome when you have to wear the same dress over and over…’

  Holly heard Jessica take a sharp breath on the other end of the line and knew she had struck a nerve. No would-be Manhattan fashionista would deign to be seen in the same ensemble multiple times, even if it was for an event associated with work.

  ‘So maybe you could come into the store, pick something out and oh, I don’t know, wow your employer and her friends at this benefit? We have some divine flapper dresses, or some really great gowns from the fifties. That era is so hot at the moment. In fact, we have something very similar to what Reese Witherspoon wore at t
he In Style awards last week.’

  ‘Really?’ Jessica squeaked. ‘I love Reese. Anyway, OK, fine. I’ll try and pull those lists for you. And I will stop by, maybe tomorrow or the next day. Will you be at the store?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Fantastic. Maybe I owe myself a reward. Fat chance of getting one from her,’ she added, referring to her errant boss. ‘I’ll try to pull up the lists and bring them with me. Is that cool?’

  Holly grinned. ‘Jessica, that is the coolest thing I have heard all day.’

  * * *

  Later that evening, she filled Danny in on the progress that she had made that day. She toyed with her own bracelet, finally taking it off and laying it next to the mystery one. She had far fewer charms than the other, which led her to suspect that perhaps the bracelet belonged to an older woman.

  So many charms from so many different stages of life – the flower, horseshoe, handbag, Tiffany key, corno, the wedding bells, Eiffel Tower, baby carriage, a carousel … all milestones, important moments in someone’s life.

  Looking at the two bracelets side by side, Holly was struck by how much more living she had to do.

  ‘So the guy from the gallery says the horn charm is from Italy?’ Danny was saying. ‘So now you know that this person was in Italy. On vacation or something.’

  ‘I would think so.’ Holly pulled her son close. ‘I bet it’s a magical place, don’t you?’ she said dreamily. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Italy, Florence especially. It seems awfully romantic. Think of all that history, all that art. It gives me goose bumps to think about the people through the ages who must have walked those streets.’

  He looked at her. ‘Why haven’t you ever gone?’

  Holly smiled, considered the innocence of childhood, of being Danny’s age. He still existed in a world where responsibilities, work and commitments were a far-off thing, and while Holly was a firm believer in whimsy, she also knew that exotic vacations became less important (or indeed realistic) when you had bills to pay, children to take care of and a job to attend to. But she still knew it was important to keep such mystique open to him.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Danny. I guess I need to win the lottery. Or put you out to work.’ She smiled cheerily, but tilted her head in question when a frown appeared on his face. ‘What’s that look for?’

  ‘Mom, maybe if you had someone else around, like my dad or something, then maybe you could travel, because it wouldn’t be just you.’

  Holly felt a familiar trepidation at this line of conversation.

  ‘Now, Danny, even families who have two parents around can’t always afford to take extravagant vacations. You shouldn’t think that way.’

  He shook his head and Holly could see that they were rounding to the familiar discussion of how a dad around here might make things easier. Her mind raced, trying to think of a way to avoid it.

  ‘Anyway, who needs a vacation when we’ve got so much going on these days? Our first Christmas dinner at home: that’s a big deal. Maybe tomorrow after school, we can go out and pick up a Christmas tree?’ she suggested.

  ‘Yeah, that would be cool!’

  Holly exhaled, relieved. Problem temporarily averted. She held up the bracelet and jangled it. ‘And of course, in the meantime, we still have this great big mystery to solve.’

  Chapter 17

  An oak door loomed in front of me, and it was with excitement and trepidation that I looked to my husband as he placed a hand on my lower back to guide me forward.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  I nodded my head, feeling slightly dazed. Were we really considering this?

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  He smiled happily and propelled me through the open door. I must be honest – the moment that I stepped over the threshold, I felt as if I was walking on air.

  ‘Oh my God, look at this place!’ I exclaimed, and he shot me a look that said, ‘Remember what I said? Don’t get overly excited or we will lose our ability to negotiate.’ But I couldn’t help it. This place was … amazing. It was a Classic Six penthouse, one of the six-room pre-war apartments that are much sought-after in Manhattan – and already I could feel the history from each of those rooms.

  I put my hand on the wall, stroking the crown moulding that ran down the middle of the hallway, then entered the living room – or maybe this might be called a ‘sitting room’, a place where society types ended up greeting and receiving guests. I had to stifle a giggle. Right now I ‘received guests’ in a cramped living room that was the size of the foyer in this place.

  My daydream was interrupted as the real-estate agent, Theodore, turned round to face us. I wondered if he ever went by the name Ted.

  Probably not in this part of town, I decided.

  ‘And this is the sitting room,’ he confirmed. ‘This room was actually just redone by the previous owner. The interior is attributed to Donghia Associates, under the direction of the extraordinary Angelo Donghia.’

  I nodded knowingly, even though I had no idea who he was talking about.

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ I said somewhat vaguely, looking around at the ornate woodwork. Obviously, Ted saw through my bluff, because he felt the need to clarify just who Angelo Donghia was.

  ‘Mr Donghia is a visionary. He designed the Opera Club at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center, which met with superb acclaim.’

  I had never been to either, but I smiled just the same. I knew he wanted me to feel like some sort of hick, but to be honest, I didn’t know anything about opera, and I certainly wasn’t going to pretend that I did. However, I was far too used to New York snobbery to be upset by this guy. It took a lot more to shake me up.

  I might want this apartment with every bone in my body, but only because it was beautiful and the house of my dreams. Social climber, I was not.

  ‘Can we see more?’ I asked, wanting to get past the sitting room and on to the rest of the place.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. I knew he was holding back a sneer. I’m not sure if he was put off by our age, still being relatively young, or if he was just upset that he pegged me as someone who might not be as cultured as his other clients.

  Whatever it was, it was water off a duck’s back.

  Ted led us on and I had to do my best not to start skipping. Every room we entered was even more beautiful than the one before, and in my mind, I’d already started decorating.

  I could envision that green velvet settee that I spied at an antique shop in the West Side right over in that corner, next to the fireplace. And I had this great idea about a brass headboard that I saw just last week at Bloomingdale’s for the spare guestroom. I knew it would be a perfect fit.

  And then there was the fact that there was also this other room, a space that looked out onto Central Park, where lofty clouds seemed to float by and the sunshine gleamed into the room happily. Currently painted in a neutral ivory colour, it would be a perfect room for a baby’s nursery.

  I found myself separated from the others and walked across the hardwood floors, the heels of my slouched boots clicking merrily and echoing across the empty rooms.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed myself to feel the air move around me. This was a very old and classic building, and had probably seen many tenants in its lifetime.

  It had been a home several times over, and had a history, had probably known its share of happy times, as well as sad.

  The people who had lived within these walls had loved and lost, laughed and cried, been born and possibly also died. And right now, all of them were talking to me.

  They were telling me this is where I would live my life, where my marriage would bloom and blossom, where our children would be born, where we would experience joy as well as sorrow. They told me that all of those things, those experiences, would colour my life.

  At that moment, I knew. We had come home.

  I heard footsteps behind me and turned round quickly. There stood my husband with a small smile on his f
ace. I opened my mouth to speak and he put a finger over my lips.

  ‘You don’t have to say a word, your face says it all. This is it, isn’t it?’ he whispered.

  I nodded my head.

  Pulling me close, he kissed me and I closed my eyes. At that moment, I saw the years stretching out before us. I imagined what our life would be like here. I dreamed about the memories we would make and I honestly felt like crying with happiness. This was all too good to be true. Someone needed to pinch me, because I had to be dreaming.

  And well … Ted did that for me. Not pinched me exactly, but he ‘ahemmed’ loudly enough to indicate that he had walked into the room and was slightly uncomfortable with our public display of affection. I quickly opened my eyes and grinned.

  ‘You’re absolutely sure?’

  I nodded again. ‘Outside of marrying you, I have never been so sure about anything in my entire life.’

  ‘OK, then.’ He stepped away from me and clapped his hands together once, his indicator that now it was time to do business.

  Moments later I was left alone as the two men went to make use of the kitchen counters to discuss offers. When I was finally by myself, I did a quick little jig and tapped my heels in a makeshift sort of dance on the wood floors. I opened the patio doors and walked out onto a private terrace that was attached to the space. Oh my God! We were going to have a private terrace.

  Resting my arms on the thick decorative stonework that lined the terrace and protected me from falling, I let the wind whip my hair around my face as I thought about everything that had led us to this point in our lives.

  We were so lucky, to even be able to consider living in a place like this. But then again, I have to admit that my husband was also a talented and forward-thinking businessman. I’d always known he was going places, and apparently so did his boss, seeing that he was promoted to a management position after only two years with the firm.

  There was no denying that I was wildly proud of him. I couldn’t believe that he had already accomplished so much. How many couples at this stage in their lives could afford to live in a Classic Six? I certainly didn’t know of many.