The Gift of a Charm Read online

  ‘Not long. A real winter wonderland out there today, isn’t it?’ he commented in a thick Brooklyn accent.

  ‘I know, isn’t it beautiful? The perfect start to the season,’ Holly said dreamily, completely missing the sardonic undertone.

  ‘Yeah. Ho-ho-ho,’ Harold replied dully. ‘You might change your tune if you had to drive that monster around the streets of Manhattan all day.’ He motioned to the brown UPS truck that idled by the kerb, turning the snow under its wheels to a dull grey sludge.

  ‘Oh, Harold, stop. Surely you can still appreciate the holiday spirit,’ Holly smiled. ‘New York is especially magical around this time of year.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’d appreciate some holiday magic in the form of a signature. Park an extra minute longer than necessary in the Village and I’m cited for blocking traffic. Corporate just loves when that happens, and I need my bonus this year, so if you don’t mind…’

  ‘Of course. We wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.’ Holly took the electronic signature pad from him and scribbled her name with loops and swirls. ‘Here you go.’

  Carole emerged from the backroom of the store, looking completely on task and focused, and well put-together in an Yves St Laurent suit. She held a variety of clothes on hangers, all ready to be displayed out front. Holly’s boss was in her sixties and had been living and working downtown since the 1970s. She had held on to the Secret Closet all that time, transforming it from a dowdy thrift store that once sold mismatched tea cups and old toasters next to used pea coats into what it was today, a streamlined and chic designer vintage clothing store.

  Plump with a short pixie cut, Carole dyed her hair a deep red and always wore dramatic eye makeup. ‘It’s my signature,’ she had told Holly once, and Holly could see why. Her eyes were huge and almond-shaped, stunning. Her boss was typically brusque by nature, but Holly knew she appreciated her work. The two women had become close over the years, each knowing they could depend on the other to do whatever needed to get done.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Harold. I thought I heard the front door open. I was up to my elbows trying to get this stuff out before we opened,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Carole. Holly was here to help me,’ Harold said. ‘She was just telling me all about the magic of the season,’ he added mischievously.

  ‘Ah yes, I should have figured,’ Carole said drolly. ‘As if you couldn’t already tell from her name, our Holly just loves Christmas.’ She turned to her employee. ‘I’m sure you were skipping through the streets singing “Jingle Bells”?’

  Holly shrugged off the teasing; they knew her well. ‘Well, if I thought I was going to be facing the Ghost of Christmas Past and Ebenezer Scrooge, I would have taken my time getting here.’

  Carole chuckled. ‘So what do we have, Harold? How many boxes?’ No aspect of operations slipped through without Carole noticing. Her organisational skills and attention to detail were two of the reasons the store was so successful.

  ‘Looks like there are about three or four,’ he told her. ‘You want me to carry them out to the backroom?’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Carole agreed.

  Holly relieved her boss of the clothes that she had been carrying and quickly went to work getting the store set up for the day’s business. There was no denying it, she was in an energetic mood, and she knew that the weather outside would only help custom today. While it might be normal human inclination to stay bundled up inside when the weather got messy, conversely New Yorkers tended to be driven out, filling the streets with holiday shopping treks and other festive wanderings. She knew that they would have a busy day.

  ‘Ready to do some psychic sorting?’ Carole reappeared from the backroom and plopped a big box on the counter between her and Holly.

  She grinned. ‘Yep!’

  Carole detached the packing slip and ripped open the box. She pulled out the first piece, a big beautiful beige leather bag. Holly could immediately tell it was a Kelly original, still in almost mint condition. Most of their stock came from upscale clients who thoroughly inspected and cleaned what they wanted sold.

  ‘Well?’ Carole enquired, eyeing her.

  ‘Kelly original for sure, immaculate as far as I can see.’

  ‘Well, I know that much…’

  Holly closed her eyes and dramatically held the bag out in front of her. ‘Tall, beautiful, in her twenties, no children, adored Grace Kelly, in a secretary pool at –’ she peered through one eye to see Carole smiling – ‘the New Yorker maybe? Wound up marrying her boss, who was much shorter, but that didn’t matter. He was wealthy beyond her wildest dreams.’

  ‘So that made her happy?’ Carole asked, trying to hide a grin.

  Holly stroked the leather bag, kept in such perfect condition by its owner, probably on a high shelf in a protective pouch, with other bags lined up military style next to it.

  ‘The bag definitely did.’

  ‘And would money make you happy?’

  Holly laughed. ‘No way: love only for me. I need to feel it like a ton of bricks.’

  Carole shook her head. ‘Such a softie … Good luck with that.’

  Holly delved further into the box. She loved new deliveries – the thrill of finding something unique always gave her a rush, and there was truly something bittersweet about going through the discarded remains of someone’s life, of bygone times.

  She marvelled as she pulled out one designer piece of clothing after another, hanging each on an empty rack as she worked. There were some fun party tops, two sequinned dresses – good pieces, but a little flashy.

  Holly smiled as she admired each piece in her arms. Her breath caught as she noticed a particularly gorgeous fifties Givenchy party dress. She hung it on the rack for a better look, certain that this dress would not be around for long. She stroked the rich, black silken material and gazed longingly at the tiny delicate crystals that graced the full tulle skirt. It really was a special dress.

  She closed her eyes, wondering where it had come from and the kind of person who had worn it … what parties it had actually experienced in its past life, the fun and romance it had inevitably inspired when it was worn by some young, beautiful woman of another era. A dress like this had surely seen some good times, and she was positive the fun to be had wasn’t over yet. Holly smiled, realising that destiny would soon deem someone else suitable to meet this dress … that the next chapter of this beautiful garment’s life was about to begin, right here.

  ‘It’s just so beautiful, don’t you think?’ she said to Carole. ‘Can you imagine the life it’s had?’

  ‘I’m sure it’s had a very interesting existence,’ Carole noted dryly, reading the delivery record. ‘Seems this lot came directly from Anna Bowery’s collection.’

  Holly’s eyes widened at the mention of the well-known, elderly New York socialite. Anna Bowery had been famous during the 1950s and 1960s for rubbing shoulders with people like Frank Sinatra, the Kennedys, Clark Gable even. Truly this dress must have seen some incredible times.

  ‘Wow … can you imagine? She might have danced with Marlon Brando in this dress, or talked about books with J.D. Salinger while wearing it…’ Holly felt goose bumps. ‘Such an amazing life already. Whoever buys this is genuinely getting a piece of history,’ she said reverently. ‘It’s a dress that is made for magic. What girl wouldn’t want to be kissed in this? It’s simply meant for falling in love.’

  ‘Sounds like someone else has actually fallen in lust,’ Carole smiled. ‘I bet it would fit you,’ she ventured.

  Holly laughed and shook her head ruefully.

  ‘Nope, not even with my store discount could I afford that. Besides, where would I wear it? This dress needs to be danced in – on a big occasion, like New Year’s Eve or something. My New Year’s Eve consists of popcorn on the couch with Danny, watching the ball drop on TV.’

  Carole raised her eyebrows. ‘Spoken like a true spinster. Go on, Holly, try it on. Just to see. It will be fun.’ />
  Holly smiled, and for a moment the urge to try on the dress was so strong that she was sure she would cave. But there was no point. Even if it did look good on her, the reality was that she had nowhere to wear something this lovely. It didn’t deserve to live out its days going unworn in her closet.

  Of course, she wished she had somewhere to wear it, and, more to the point, she wished it were that easy just to hand over her Visa and think only of her own desires. But it wasn’t how things were in her life – she had Danny to think about, and every year she was more and more determined to make his Christmas magical, even if it meant forgoing the parties or events to which she was occasionally invited. While sometimes she felt it might be nice to go out on the town, she didn’t resent Danny for preventing her. She was happy with how things were.

  Which meant playing Santa instead of splurging on Givenchy.

  Her sudden melancholy mood didn’t escape Carole.

  ‘Is everything OK, honey? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about the dress.’

  Holly shrugged and waved her hand airily. ‘Oh no, it’s nothing. Sorry, just have some stuff on my mind. Danny started talking about dads again this morning. Apparently, he has taken note that some of his friends’ fathers pick up their kids at school.’

  ‘I’m sure he just thinks that you could use someone else around,’ Carole offered. Holly looked up to protest, but Carole cut her off. ‘I know, I know. You are Superwoman and you can do it all. But I’m sure that Danny’s just thinking about your happiness, not his.’

  ‘But I am happy,’ Holly insisted.

  ‘I know you are,’ Carole continued. ‘That’s plain to see. You are one of the most optimistic people I know. You see romance and joy around every corner and infect everyone you meet with all that positivity. Do you think Danny doesn’t see that? All I am saying is that you, too, deserve a little magic. You’re too young to take yourself out of the game completely. You don’t want to end up like me, all by myself,’ Carole said with a self-deprecating smile.

  ‘Oh, Carole, I’m sure I could do much worse than end up like you,’ Holly teased, referring to her boss’s whirlwind social life.

  ‘Well then, you need to get your diary filled. No way are you going to add more charms to that bracelet if all you do is sit at home in your pyjamas.’ Carole patted Holly’s arm knowingly, aware that she had a tradition of adding charms that signified important life events and experiences to her charm bracelet. She also knew that Holly hadn’t added a charm in several years.

  ‘Thank you, you’re right. I’ll make a start on filling up my social calendar.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Just as soon as I unpack all those boxes out back,’ she added with a wink, skilfully evading the topic.

  Carole shook her head as Holly headed towards the back of the store. ‘Well, it’s your life, but do you think Anna Bowery waited for Sinatra to ask her to dance? Absolutely not. I bet she took the bull by the horns. Especially in that dress!’

  Holly pushed open the stockroom door with her hip. ‘I believe it,’ she called back. ‘In that dress, a girl could do anything.’ She quickly brushed through the doorframe, hoping to avoid any further discussion of her social life, the dress or her lack of either. That simply was not reality. She knew where her responsibilities lay: firmly with Danny and what was best for him.

  She shook her head as if to rid herself of the cobwebs of gloom that had now descended upon her. Determined to recapture the optimism with which she had begun the day, she picked up a box cutter that lay on a folding table and turned to the boxes that Harold had delivered. Who knew what treasures were waiting to be discovered within?

  She applied the box cutter to the top of the first one, slicing it open quickly and expertly, realising that it was a true garment box. Some of their stock came in anything: garbage bags, cardboard boxes, milk crates even. This box was beautifully packed, as if the owner understood well the worth of the clothes. There were a few gorgeous leather handbags on top and then some suits, all carefully wrapped in tissue paper. Three suits, to be exact. Holly pulled them out and lined them up on a rack in front of her. Three perfectly kept Gucci suits: one pink, one brown plaid and one in black. She gave a low whistle.

  ‘Wow, this is good stuff,’ she whispered under her breath. Why would anyone want to part with it? Then she smiled as she answered her own question. Someone with lots of money, of course. It was typical for the time of year, actually, especially among New York’s wealthy, who routinely purged their closets, readying themselves for the onslaught of holiday shopping. Nice …

  She went about the business of inspecting them for tears and blemishes and going through the pockets. People rarely used the pockets in designer pieces and most times they were sewn up to keep the lines of the garment smooth.

  Then, going back to the box, she pulled the flaps wider to reveal a red velvet jacket … a very expensive, classic red velvet jacket. Chanel, no less.

  ‘Oh my, this is beautiful … just beautiful,’ Holly gasped, pulling the jacket from its packaging and shaking it out gently. She smiled as she examined the workmanship; the quality the Chanel brand put into their individual pieces was truly exquisite.

  As she admired it, she couldn’t resist wondering what it would look like on. ‘Oh what the hell.’ Holly peeled off her own jacket and placed it aside. Unlike the dress, she just might be able to afford this – plus it was practical and she could wear it anywhere, no special occasion required. Slipping into the jacket, and buttoning it up, she ran her hands over the delicate fabric, checking the way it fitted.

  But as Holly turned to a mirror to admire the effect while smoothing the jacket along her torso, she felt something. Something hard inside the jacket, beneath the material.

  ‘What in the world…?’ Holly unbuttoned the jacket and pulled open the lapels, wondering if something from the box had got snagged on it. But there was nothing immediately apparent against the interior lining.

  Her hand returned to the spot where she had first felt the hard bulge. It was still there.

  She turned the Chanel jacket inside out and was examining the lining when Carole came into the stockroom. ‘Holly, have you seen that beaded purse we had on display last week? Has it sold? Someone is asking about it … Oh wow, that’s beautiful.’

  Holly shook her head. ‘There’s something wrong with it, though. I tried it on and there’s something … hard inside.’

  Carole stepped closer. ‘Something hard?’

  ‘Yes … right here … Oh, there’s a pocket!’ Holly ran her hands along the seam and pointed out a small, barely concealed zipper that was secreted away in the lining.

  ‘Let me see.’ Carole peered over her shoulder. ‘Well, Chanel certainly never put inner pockets in these. This must have been altered by the original owner – or for her, at least.’

  Holly gently tugged at the zipper and it opened easily. ‘There’s definitely something in here.’ She put her hand in the secret pocket, and her fingers sought out an object cool to the touch.

  Taking it out, she revealed a silver chain. Actually no, she realised quickly, it was a silver bracelet – full of dangling trinkets and pretty objects.

  The room seemed eerily quiet as Holly held the bracelet in her open palm and the morning light, leaking through the windows, illuminated the dust particles around the charms, giving them a slight luminescence.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaimed to Carole, ‘a charm bracelet.’

  ‘It’s just like yours.’

  Holly inspected the piece of jewellery, running her gaze over the individual charms. She noted a horseshoe, a baby carriage, a heart-shaped key, a building of some kind, a carousel … there were so many. Yes, it was indeed just like her own bracelet, but with many more charms.

  ‘So many of them,’ she whispered almost to herself. Then she looked at Carole. ‘Obviously it was left in the jacket by accident. Someone is missing it.’

  Carole turned back to the boxes. �
��Well, I’m sure we can send it back. Where’s the docket?’ She duly picked up the UPS delivery documentation and read through it. ‘No name or address that I can see, just the UPS branch it was shipped from. I’m sure they’ll have some record of it.’ She frowned. ‘And according to this it’s a straight donation – no commission required.’

  Which meant that the sender of these clothes intended that their percentage of the proceeds earned on any sales should go directly to charity. While this wasn’t unusual in the business, it was becoming rarer and rarer due to the downturn in the economy.

  Holly nodded absently, her eyes not leaving the bracelet. ‘But why on earth would you put a bracelet in that little pocket in the first place? You’d think the owner would have missed it and remembered that they’d put it there. I know I rarely leave the house without mine.’

  As she took in the variety of charms, she knew that this bracelet had to be of great value and importance – to the owner, or indeed to anyone who had chosen the charms and perhaps given them as a gift, helping the owner build up so many significant memories. It was so full that Holly could tell that whoever owned this bracelet had really lived. Her spine tingled with anticipation as she started imagining the stories that accompanied each trinket.

  She instinctively glanced at her own bracelet, sitting prettily on her wrist, and ran her fingers over the individual charms. It was her talisman and each charm was a special reminder of the most important times in her life. She’d had it for what…? Goodness, it was going on eighteen years now. Where did the time go?

  Holly gazed down at the charms. There might be many now, yet once upon a time there had been only one …

  Queens, New York, 1994

  Holly looked down at the frumpy black dress her mom had bought her for the funeral.

  She felt tears well up and she pulled the skirt of the dress to her face, hastily wiping it. She was broken-hearted, miserable, and she didn’t care if her appearance justified it. Besides, the service was over, they’d returned from the cemetery ages ago and no one had to see her. She just had to try and get through the endless stream of people that flowed in and out of her house, commiserating with her and her mother over her father.