The Gift of a Charm Page 27

  Jeff laughed heartily. ‘Amen to that. So then, what do you say for Christmas dinner? Chinese or pizza?’

  * * *

  The following day, Holly listened to Carole outline down the phone all the reasons she should stay home with Danny and not worry about coming back to work for a few more days.

  Even though she was still a little concerned about him, she felt guilty for rushing out on her boss a few days before, leaving her short-staffed for the Christmas rush.

  ‘Honestly, don’t worry your pretty little head about it – it’s already all taken care of,’ Carole assured her. ‘I’m going to have my niece come in and help me. She’s looking to earn a little extra pocket money over the school break. You stay home and look after your budding hockey player, OK?’

  ‘So what you are telling me is that I am easily replaced by a seventeen-year-old, is that it?’

  ‘Not quite. I certainly won’t be letting Tasha loose on the deliveries or we’d be seeing lots of haute couture on Father Mike’s crew,’ Carole laughed jovially. ‘But she’s competent enough to man the cash register, answer the phone and clean up the dressing rooms, which is more than enough for the moment. It will be fine, Holly, and besides, you need to be with Danny. If you’re here, you’ll just be worried about him. Anyway, I suspect you don’t have a whole lot of options for a sitter over the holidays. Unless you and Nick are really back on good terms.’

  ‘Not that good,’ Holly told her, although Nick had phoned on Christmas night and talked to Danny, much to her son’s delight. Maybe her ex really was dedicated to being a better father from now on. She hoped that this time he truly meant it, unlike after 9/11, when he’d come back from California full of promises and great intentions to be there for Holly and the baby. That day had given him a huge shock – had brought him to senses and reminded him of what truly mattered, he’d said.

  And for a while Nick had been true to his word, until eventually life got in the way of good intentions …

  Nonetheless, she was a long way from calling on him to take care of Danny while she went to work.

  ‘Well, I’d certainly appreciate it while he’s still off school, but I promise I’ll be back before the end of the week, OK? You are bound to be busy with last-minute crowds coming in for stuff for New Year’s Eve. Speaking of which, did Jessica end up buying any of the dresses?’ she asked, referring to Margot Mead’s assistant, who’d been in the store when Holly had had to rush off to the hospital.

  ‘Yes, she ended up buying a couple actually.’

  ‘Great. The red one and the Givenchy?’ Holly felt a little sad, knowing that she would never see Anna Bowery’s stunning dress again. It had been so wonderful to admire and daydream about it in the short time it had been at the store. ‘Good for her. It looked amazing on her, and she’ll have lots of occasion to wear it. I think I might miss it, though,’ she chuckled.

  ‘Speaking of Jessica, any more progress on the bracelet?’ Carole asked.

  ‘Well…’ She wasn’t sure whether or not to mention to Carole her theory about the ‘Date to Remember’ charm and a supposed meeting place on New Year’s Eve. It was just that – a theory and a bit of a long shot when she thought about it.

  ‘I’m going to start cross-referencing those lists she gave me,’ she told Carole. ‘See if there’s anything that jumps out from there. And I might give that gallery owner a call too, see if he’s found anything out in the meantime.’

  She reached for her bag and pulled out the masses of paper she had thrown in there a few days before. The lists were by now in complete disarray, and she picked out Danny’s hospital discharge and treatment papers, which she had shoved in there as well. She tried to organise the lists as she spoke to Carole, realising everything was by now hopelessly out of order.

  ‘I think I’ve made a mess of it already, though. I don’t even know which list is which. Damn…’ Holly said, shuffling through the paper before casting the lot aside. ‘It’s like every time I turn around there is more information to consider, not less. Given what I’ve already discovered, I would have thought that the possibilities would have started to narrow themselves down now.’

  ‘Well, good luck with it anyway. I’m sure you’ll work something out,’ Carole said. ‘On the plus side, it’ll give you something to do while you’re playing nursemaid,’ she teased.

  Holly thanked her again and the two women said their goodbyes.

  When she hung up, Holly checked on Danny, who was happily engrossed in his trusty iPad, before turning her attention to the bracelet once again.

  Part of the paperwork Jessica had given her was a list of attendees at a charity benefit that took place yearly on 31 December.

  Following her revelation during the movie on Christmas Day, Holly wondered if it were as simple as that – that the owner of the lost bracelet was somewhere on the list and might turn up at the same event on New Year’s Eve this year.

  Same Time, Same Place?

  And, even if this was the case, what was she supposed to do – turn up at the benefit on New Year’s Eve and just stand outside asking people on the way in if they’d lost a bracelet? She’d probably be chased away by security.

  No, Holly thought, deflated, in truth it was highly unlikely she’d be able to figure everything out by New Year’s Eve – which was now only days away.

  Chapter 31

  I lay my head back against the mass of pillows that Maria has so expertly arranged on the bed. I feel restless, and that ‘cool spot’ that I so eagerly search for proves to be elusive. I decide to think of cold things – maybe it would help. The feel of the ocean in the Hamptons; some delicious ice-cream treat from Serendipity; snow. Like the snow that yearly flutters down onto Central Park just outside my window.

  What I wouldn’t give to go lie in the snow! The thought is so fleeting, it makes me wonder about the last time I voluntarily lay down to make a snow angel, or felt gentle snowflakes on my skin. I look longingly at the window across from my bed; it is my one companion in this room.

  Just feet away, on the other side of the glass, is New York, and I imagine the wind that rushes down Fifth Avenue right at this moment, the smell of hot chocolate as it cascades out of a café, and the ice skaters at Rockefeller. I imagine myself in those places; at the very least I wish that I could press my cheek against the cold glass that presents all of the city to me. A city I have known so intimately my whole life.

  I shake my head, thinking of times past, before everything happened. I wish I could take back all of the times I complained about being too hot, or too cold, or being bored, or too busy. I wish I could have all those times back, and just be happy to be in the moment. All of my little complaints seem so silly, so trite, especially now.

  I sleep and wake again, not sure if it is the same day or another day.

  I feel confused sometimes, and I’m not always sure if my pain is real or just imagined. Or how much of it is due to the battle raging in my body or the fear that seems to have settled upon my heart.

  I don’t want to think this way, about that. I really want to believe, just like any challenge of my life, that this, too, will be something that I will eventually conquer, overcome. That I have the opportunity to go on. Yes, I’ve had a good life – an amazing life – but when does one ever stop wanting more? Dreaming of what is yet to come? It just isn’t fair.

  But no one ever said life was fair.

  I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyes and I struggle to keep them at bay. Those tears seem to come all too easily these days, and it is even harder to keep trying to hide them.

  I move my left hand and cover my right wrist. It’s funny to think that such a little charm bracelet can offer such feelings of protection. But that’s what I need these days, some level of hope that will ultimately assist me in enduring.

  This little trinket never fails to remind me of the happy times; it is proof that I have lived.

  So this is what it feel
s like to hold your life in your hands.

  I gently caress each charm, briefly recounting the memories, the significance, the joy and the happiness associated with it. Who will remember my story when I am no longer here? Who will know what these little things mean?

  I don’t need to look at the individual charms any more; I have committed all of them to memory over the years. Each little addition is so special, so important to me. Every charm contains a host of memories, and all of them – if not completely happy – still make me who I am.

  I remember when Jeff presented it to me. Right back at the beginning, the year before we married.

  I feel the little pickle with a diamond chip on it: the first charm, a salute to the pickle barrel and his version of an engagement ring. Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly and I catch my breath. It all went by so fast.

  I ball my fists around the bracelet so I won’t cry, feel the little Italian corno dig into my palm and start to breathe again.

  We were on our honeymoon, and I was wearing … a red and white print dress cinched at the waist with a wide red belt. I just wanted to look like Jackie O back then. Jeff was in a suit with no tie, just a little blue neckscarf. Oh, we thought we were so European – we were so silly! My hand hurts so I release the bracelet a little bit, and with my fingers I find our wedding bells, white gold this time.

  My fingers keep circling the bracelet. Next the quill; Jeff always used to tease me about being a compulsive list-maker. The handbag, an obvious one and a true homage to an unfortunate addiction. I have always had a particular weakness for Chanel.

  Then Greg’s baby carriage, the happiest day of my life. Lost in the memory, I smile and stare at the ceiling – there is a pretty pattern of light playing on it. I feel like a baby staring at a mobile. Is this what it was like? Not for me as a baby, no crib mobiles back then, just the tin ceiling of my parents’ deli to keep me entertained. Greg had a mobile themed Curious George; it was from a little toyshop on East Eighty-Sixth street.

  When I was a girl, I wanted brothers and sisters so badly, it was awful. I ached for them. I had to help at the deli, so I was not allowed to stay and play with any of my schoolmates after school, or on the weekends. It was books on the deli counter and get cracking. My dad would have me make the egg salad, and later let me work the slicer. Think about it, letting a child work a meat slicer – we were so crazy back then. This brings a smile to my mouth as I think of buying Greg’s first car-seat straps, unheard of in my day, when you just got tossed around in the back seat. Or how I cut up his meat until he was eleven. Eleven! I was so afraid he’d cut himself with a knife. Jeff used to scold me that I was babying him, but I wasn’t. I was just being his mom, a good mom, because I could. I had no deli to run, no other obligations. I could devote all my time and attention to my beloved boy. I was unable to have any more children, and Greg himself was nothing short of a miracle. I could not get pregnant for the life of me after Jeff and I got married. I remember talking to Father Mike about it, who told me that God was good and that I shouldn’t worry too much about it.

  Jeff and I took his advice and simply decided not to obsess about it from then on; after all, as Doris Day sings, ‘Que sera sera.’ Do young people watch old movies any more? I must ask Greg. He used to park himself in front of the TV with me now and then to catch an old movie. Cary Grant was my favourite, of course. Jeff always reminded me of him a little bit. I must ask Greg when he comes again. Maybe we can watch one together … if I have time. I have to laugh. If I have time? I sound like I’m getting ready to catch a flight.

  It’s strange how I worry more for Jeff than I do for Greg. Parents are supposed to go before children, it’s the natural order of things, and though I know Greg will grieve, he’ll move on.

  Jeff, he’s the one I get so nervous about. I wonder if I should arrange a full-time girl to help him. Maybe Maria could use more work, to help him out full time – I should ask her, although she’s already assumed that role.

  I can’t help it; I have visions of Jeff eating old yoghurt and getting botulism. He never thinks of those naturally life-preserving things like I did, like if something smells funny, don’t eat it.

  I hate the fact that my illness and all its accoutrements have prevented us from sleeping in the same bed any more – in the same room even. I miss my husband’s strong arms around me at night, the time I am most scared and oddly most awake.

  But I don’t want to think about that just now. It is too depressing.

  Where was I? Oh yes, I had just traced the outline of a tiny snowflake, one of the first charms I received from my son. Christmas was always my favourite time of year and we used to take Greg to see the Rockefeller Center tree lighting every year, even through high school.

  I smile at the thought of my tall, handsome son, still humouring his silly old parents as time and time again they bring him to see the tree.

  The lights go on and he claps along with the crowd, just to make us happy.

  We had since stopped taking him skating, though – that I couldn’t subject him to. After the lighting, we would ‘release him’, and let him go off to find his friends and go sledding on garbage-can tops in the park. I wonder if Greg will bring his own children to the tree lighting some day. I sure hope so.

  When I was told that there was nothing more they could do for me and hospice might be the best thing, I was angry. I was frustrated, too, and almost cleaned out our checking account donating money to breast cancer foundations.

  It’s why Dr Chang bought me the little cancer ribbon charm. She really is sweet, though young. She sits on the board of one of the foundations – they told her we were donating a large sum. She didn’t get all emotional on me, thank God, even though I know it’s what her own mother died of. She simply sent me something she knew I’d love. A little pink ribbon charm for my bracelet. A symbol of the now that was happening to me.

  She was the one who agreed to let me come home to our apartment, and let Maria and Jeff do my checks. When she had me settled in the first week, I complained about the morphine, the way it made me always so sleepy and gave me strange dreams, and how it ruined my appetite. What I hate the most is being apart from my husband, though.

  I move on to the next charm. It’s … the carousel! One of my favourites. Jeff gave it to me after Greg turned three. We had just taken him to Coney Island and Jeff sat on a horse with him, the two of them leaning out as far as they could to try and catch the brass ring. Afterwards we walked on the boardwalk and ate Nathan’s hot dogs … I am missing it acutely now, so I let go of the charm.

  I feel in a dreamlike state all the time now. Jeff and Greg come in and out of the room and try to talk to me, but their voices are mostly a fog.

  I am not afraid of dying. When I was first diagnosed, I was – it haunted me all the time. I wasn’t ready, I was afraid for what was on the other side, but now I just don’t think about it.

  It’s like sleep to me now. Someday soon, I will slip into unconscious sleep and I won’t wake up, that’s all. No big deal. Except I have to leave all earthly pleasures behind, and earthly people. That’s the hard part. Is there anything more to say? Or do? How many times can I tell my family that I love them before they let me go? I feel Jeff holding on to me with every bit of force he can. I know he prays constantly for a miracle. But he’s just keeping me here, not letting me go.

  I think of my parents and how they died young. They had worked hard, seven days a week and holidays, at that deli. My father had been so proud of it when he had finally purchased it. They had seemed bewildered but pleased when I married Jeff. It had just been the three of us for so long. I knew there was always sadness at my leaving behind my mother’s smiles. Jeff and I had offered to have them live with us but they had refused, instead opting to keep the small rooms above the deli as they had for years. They died soon after I left, Father of a heart attack and Mother of … they were never quite sure what – loneliness? I had tried to get her to sell the deli after Father
died, and again she had refused. When it was all over, I didn’t go back down there for a few years, not until after Greg was born. The change in the old neighbourhood was so shocking to me that I made a promise to myself that I would be faithful to the places in New York that I knew and loved. I wouldn’t neglect them and I would go and visit them on a regular basis.

  It became like a game when Greg got into photography, fun to look through the lens and try and catch the small, subtle changes. A building going up over a period of months, the signs on a movie marquee changing.

  Oh, how I love this city, how I have always loved it. I wonder if this will be my last year here, or if I might be able to keep our yearly appointment, the promise we made.

  Chapter 32

  Greg was on a mission. After waking up late that morning he’d got a text from Karen telling him that she’d be stopping by to pick up some of her things.

  As a result, he’d decided to head over to Park Avenue; he didn’t want to be there when she came back. He understood that he would have to face her eventually, and even have an adult conversation with her, considering they would have to figure out what to do with many of their shared possessions in the townhouse.

  He replied saying that she should feel free to let herself in, and that he wouldn’t be there.

  Greg wondered briefly where Karen was going to live or where she was going to stay until she was able to figure out something more permanent. And then he realised that he didn’t care. She could hole up at the Plaza with ‘Jack’ for the rest of her life. At this point, Karen and her affairs were no longer his business.

  Still, he couldn’t believe that his entire world had changed in barely forty-eight hours. Karen had been such a big part of his life and now she was gone – just like that. And all because of money, it seemed. Because she was afraid he wouldn’t be able to support them in the way she had been accustomed to.