Chapter Thirteen
Darcy
Seven days until Christmas
Darcy struggled when her alarm went off to start another day. She loved what she did, loved the newly appointed role at the helm of the Inn, but she wasn’t immune to the morning blues, especially after a fitful night’s sleep.
Darcy wasn’t used to her feelings yo-yoing up and down at their own will. First the gift from Myles had taken her by surprise, and as soon as she’d made peace with that and accepted it as a nice gesture from someone she would like to get to know better – if she could forget her misgivings about relationships and dependence – her new guest had shown up and toppled the world on its axis. At least that’s what it had done for Myles, and he was back to being the same man she’d always assumed he was: aloof and unreachable, with a harder side that she hadn’t seen for a while.
Her latest guest had been a last-minute booking, secured with a credit card in the name of Martha King. As it turned out, the man’s wife had booked the accommodation for him and his surname wasn’t King, but Cunningham – a name that was, by now, familiar.
Myles’s father had travelled all the way over from England to talk to his son and when the two men met in the hallway last night Darcy could’ve cut the tension with the knife Rupert had sharpened that morning as she’d stood talking to her chef about what needed to be added to the list of groceries to replenish the apartments upstairs.
Darcy savoured the solitude of Sofia’s apartment a while longer. She loved it here, cocooned in her own four walls. Sofia was a minimalist, or at least that’s what she would have you believe – she claimed it was the way she needed to be if she wanted guests to stay here. She only had this small section of the Manhattan brownstone now, with a modest kitchen, a nice sized bedroom, a newly fitted bathroom and a lounge area with a small dining table and two sofas sitting at right angles. Heavy drapes framed all the windows but when pulled back they let the light of the day spill into the room whenever the seasons allowed.
Darcy cradled a hot mug of tea and perched on the window seat in the bedroom. She drew her legs up, leaned against the wall and sipped the steaming liquid. The city hadn’t gone to sleep last night but rather dozed as fitfully as she had, with the odd siren, the odd yell from someone out either too late or far too early, and the sound of trucks getting around before the rush hour commenced, delivering to local delis, stores, restaurants, and keeping the city operating as though those things never really happened. She’d seen a programme about it once, about how the city operated, and it was true. You did forget everything that went on behind the scenes. Only the finished product mattered. Standing in Grand Central Terminal you never considered the computer systems on a level beneath you that kept trains on time and screens updated; sitting in a restaurant you didn’t think about the buyers out at the markets in the early hours while everyone else was tucked up in bed, ensuring only the freshest and best produce made it to their tables.
Darcy had always wanted to be a part of the service industry and she’d loved her studies as well as her travel. And now, the Inn was giving her everything she wanted, and when situations arose she felt ready to adapt to them and change accordingly. Last night had been the perfect example.
‘I apologise,’ her latest guest had said when she took his credit card and realised the difference in surnames. ‘My wife booked the accommodation, but here’s my card to secure the room for any additional charges.’
Darcy was back to being the host. None of this was her business. But the tension hovered in the air as Myles appeared in the lounge doorway, hands deep in his pockets, waiting for this man who Darcy could only assume was his father.
The man was very polite. He’d insisted on being called Ian – much like Myles had insisted on his Christian name being used when they first met – and he said thank you for the offer of food but he’d already eaten. Myles had waited in the wings the entire time and Darcy had been at odds over what to do. Usually she would take new guests up to their rooms, show them in, list the supplies they’d included for their stay.
In the end she’d decided to continue as though nothing was out of the ordinary. It could possibly give Myles some breathing space, both men the time to think before they spoke. ‘Mr Cunningham…sorry, Ian.’ She smiled at this man who had every ounce of his son’s charm. ‘Let me show you to your apartment.’ She picked up his small suitcase from where it stood in the hallway.
‘No, no, no.’ Ian grabbed it right back. ‘I couldn’t possibly allow a lady to carry this. I’ll manage.’
‘There are a few stairs.’
‘Are you saying I’m too old?’ He pretended to look put out but she shared the joke, smiled, and then at Myles’s discomfort got on with the job intended. She showed Ian upstairs but Myles didn’t follow. She ran through the basics: the kitchen area, where the smoke alarm was, the leaflets of attractions in the city, the complimentary food items, how the safe worked.
Eventually she left him to it and as she passed Myles on the stairwell she put a hand to his arm. He looked at it touching his sleeve and nodded that he was OK. Both men had gone up to the top floor and she hadn’t heard from them again.
From her position on the window seat now, Darcy wiped the back of her hand across the glass. It was still dark but she could see with the help of the glow from the streetlamps that the roofs opposite were tipped with frost, the odd light was dotted at a window on the same level as hers, a couple more on the levels above, but most of the city’s residents were probably still tucked up in bed. She sipped her tea and wondered how long the men had talked for last night. What had been said? Were both her guests still here this morning or had there been a huge fight she’d not heard? Her understanding from Myles was that Christmas hadn’t exactly been a happy affair in his household, which suggested there were other problems besides.
Darcy finished her tea as the brownstone woke up around her. The pipes creaked and groaned as they prepared for another day, warming from their low-set temperature to something that would offer more come the time people were forced to shed their covers and brave the world. The streets outside became noisier and with the time still not yet seven she had a shower before the sun dared to show its face.
Darcy hadn’t been in the lounge for long when Isabella stopped in on her way to work that morning.
‘His dad? Wow.’ Isabella had come baring bagels and coffees for both of them.
‘I don’t know what’s gone on between them, but the tension.’ She raised her eyebrows as she sipped her caramel macchiato and led Isabella through to the kitchen. The hot liquid trickled welcomingly down through her insides. ‘This is so good. I had a cup of tea this morning but this is so much better.’
‘Of course it is. Tea was for England, coffee is for New York.’
‘Where’s yours?’ Darcy took out a knife and the butter from the refrigerator.
‘It’s damn cold outside, I drank it on my way over.’ Isabella buttered both bagels, Darcy found two plates and they leaned against the countertop to enjoy them.
Darcy bit into the bagel, shutting her eyes at the winter taste, the melted butter and the sweetness of the raisins. ‘Thanks for this.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’m really hoping it snows soon.’ Darcy looked out of the kitchen window to see what the weather was doing, but there was no sign yet.
‘No, don’t let it come down before I finish work. I’ve got three more days. Then it can dump the biggest load on the entire city and I can stay in my jammies all day.’
‘But who will bring me bagels and coffee?’
‘I’m sure you can think of someone,’ Isabella grinned.
Rupert appeared and they finished their bagels, chatted with him and then went back through to the lounge.
‘I’d better go soon.’ Isabella checked her watch. ‘I’m lucky to be getting away with a late start today as my boss wants me to stay behind tonight, take minutes at some meeting or other.’
Darcy loved how Isabella pretended to brush off her job as though it was an annoyance. She knew her friend too well. She’d put in one hundred and ten per cent in that office, but whenever she was out of it, she was as relaxed as she could be. Darcy wished she could be more like that sometimes.
‘Keep me posted on Myles,’ Isabella whispered as she plucked her coat from the hook in the hallway. ‘The party at The Plaza is still on, right?’
‘I’m sure it is.’ She hooked a finger in a come-here motion and when Isabella followed her to the desk in the lounge, she unlocked the top drawer and took out the earrings she’d put in there for safe keeping. She’d done it discreetly when Ian Cunningham was slotting his credit card back into his wallet.
Isabella whistled through her front teeth. ‘Darcy.’ She couldn’t stop staring at the earrings. ‘Where…’ She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘From Myles?’
Darcy nodded and flipped the box shut, stowed it in the drawer again. ‘It’s too much, isn’t it? I mean, we haven’t even been on a date yet. I’m not used to this.’
‘Darcy, go with it. You haven’t dated for a long time. I know how independent you are, how dedicated you are to your work. But I’m here to tell you that sometimes it’s OK to let someone else be a part of all that.’ She squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘It’ll all work out, I can feel it.’
‘I tried to give them back,’ she confessed.
‘What did he say?’
‘He told me the store won’t accept returns or give refunds for earrings.’
‘He has a point, they don’t. Have you tried them on?’ she asked in the next breath, her coat now on and gloves poised at the ready.
‘Not yet.’
‘They’ll go perfectly with your clutch and shoes. You’re going to look amazing. Oh, promise me you’ll get plenty of photos.’
‘I’ll get one, how does that sound?’
‘Like it’s not enough.’ She smiled. ‘Now I’d better go but I’ll see you soon.’
‘Thanks for the breakfast.’
After her friend left Darcy had plenty to do. Unfortunately one of the O’Sullivan children had come down with a heavy cold but she’d managed to find a hot water bottle amongst the bits and pieces in a cupboard in the basement. She even went to the pharmacy for Adele when her husband took their other son out for the day and she didn’t want to leave her child. All Darcy was doing now was keeping everything crossed that the head cold didn’t turn out to be the flu, because the last thing they needed was an outbreak over the holiday season. It could get the Inn into the media for all the wrong reasons.
Vanessa and Zach came in chatting away about the Empire State Building, which had been fantastic apart from the low-lying mist hanging around Manhattan obscuring their view. Darcy appreciated the positive spin and was glad to see they were making the most of their vacation.
Just after lunch Myles turned up, puffed after a run.
‘Not working today?’ She bent her head down to push another tiny bulb onto a twinkle light on the bannister. She’d noticed it wasn’t working this morning but it was easy enough to replace.
‘I’ll go in later,’ he answered.
Ah, a man of few words. She inspected the rest of the lights, found another that needed replacing and took a second new bulb from the small cardboard box she’d placed on the stairs. ‘Am I in your way?’ She shuffled close to the bannister so he could come up the stairs.
‘Not at all.’
He didn’t seem to want to talk, or go past. Darcy decided the best thing she could do was to carry on and let him do whatever he needed to do in his own time.
She took the box of bulbs back down to the basement and with one load of laundry finished, she took out the clean set of sheets, bundled in a load of towels and set the wash to go again. She put the sheets into the dryer, set the timer and headed back up the stairs.
He was still there, hovering, letting himself recover after his exertion. ‘Snow’s forecast tonight,’ he offered, following her when she walked past and into the lounge.
‘You’ll love your first New York snow. The whole city stops.’ She opened the mail that had sat patiently in a pile on the edge of the desk ready to be dealt with.
‘That would be nice.’
She sensed this man needed his world to stop, if only for a time. ‘Well, it doesn’t really stop, but it makes everyone take pause. It’s beautiful, everything is muffled and white. Then people kind of realise they can’t actually stop, life has to go on.’
‘Back on the treadmill,’ he muttered, looking out of the window now as though willing those flakes to fall from the sky.
A creak on the stairs implied someone was about to join them and Adele poked her head around the door as she rounded the bottom of the bannisters.
‘How’s Saul?’ Darcy put down the mail. Myles was staring at the Christmas tree, not talking, barely moving. But if Adele noticed anything odd, she was kind enough not to mention it.
‘He’s watching TV and feeling a bit better after some soup.’
‘Rupert is an expert at chicken soup,’ Darcy smiled. ‘And chicken soup always helps when you have a cold.’
Mrs O’Sullivan crossed the fingers on both hands. ‘Let’s pray it goes as quickly as it came and that the rest of us don’t get it. I really want to thank you for all your help.’
‘It was my pleasure, and do please let me know if there’s anything else you need.’
‘I think I have everything. A lifetime’s supply of tissues should do it.’
When Adele left, Myles looked relaxed, as though the simple exchange had made him forget everything else around him. ‘What did you do?’
‘I only went to the pharmacy for her.’ She shrugged and picked up the mail again. ‘No biggie.’
‘Rubbish. It’s those little touches that’ll make the Inn stand out in the crowd.’
She was conscious of him watching her. ‘I hope so.’
She opened a couple of bills that made her wince but their due date wasn’t for another few weeks so they had time on their hands, and she opened a Christmas card from her parents and put it up on the desk. She’d put it in her apartment later. And when Myles still hadn’t gone upstairs she wondered whether he really did want to talk but just didn’t know how to start the conversation.
She joined him by the window. He was far too much of an English gentleman to sit down all sweaty after a run, which she appreciated. Sofia had once told her about a guest who’d run in Central Park each day and every time he returned to the Inn dripping with sweat at the height of summer in Manhattan, when it’s so hot you can barely breathe on some days, he’d order a juice, sit down with the newspaper in the lounge and stay there for an hour. ‘All I kept thinking about was my poor sofa,’ Sofia had told Darcy and Gabriella. She’d upgraded the furniture soon after, bought leather sofas so they were easy to wipe down, but they hadn’t had another guest like that as far as Darcy knew.
Standing next to Myles, he didn’t smell bad. He had on running skins that clung to every defined part of his legs, a long-sleeved top that showed off biceps worthy of someone who had a physical job rather than his position on Wall Street, and was holding a dark blue hat that he’d peeled off the second he came through the hallway. The beads of sweat that had clung to him at first had dried now and he smelled kind of sweet but not unpleasant.
‘So,’ she began. They were standing side by side, looking out across the street. A man wobbled past on a bicycle singing at the top of his voice and although Darcy wasn’t looking at Myles, she knew he was smiling. ‘Your dad’s here.’
‘My dad’s here.’
‘I had no idea who he was.’
‘His secretary always booked his business trips. Obviously my mum did it this time. I think she has an account in her maiden name.’ He seemed to snap out of his train of thought. ‘I’ll be working from my apartment for a few hours this afternoon.’
‘Would you like me to send up a late lunch?’ Darcy switched back into hostess mode rather than trying to be a friend. The surface of this man seemed as brittle as the first layer of ice on a lake in the winter, and with too much weight, it would break.
The door to the brownstone opened and a gush of icy air rushed into the lounge, prompting Darcy to think about lighting the fire soon. She’d checked the wood supplies that morning and ordered more to arrive in the New Year. They were getting through a lot and it wasn’t cheap to order the special wood with low moisture content and low emissions.
When Darcy saw Myles’s dad standing in the doorway to the lounge she greeted him and then went over to her desk, leaving both men to it. But rather than stay and talk, Myles simply left the room and Ian hovered awkwardly.
Darcy offered him a menu for the lunch options. ‘Our chef is still here and soup of the day is chicken, which I can highly recommend. It comes with a lovely crusty bread roll too.’
Ian smiled at her, his warmth reaching eyes that showed fear. He looked like a man with a lot on his mind. His long, black woollen coat was so clean it looked new, he had on tailored pants even though he was unlikely to go near an office during his stay, and his grey hair was trimmed neatly so it sat just above his collar. A rich, chocolate scarf completed the ensemble and Darcy wondered if he ever looked any different, or any more relaxed.
Ian had his lunch in the dining room while Darcy got the fire going and when he was finished he came in to sit beside it. He requested a bourbon and without a newspaper in front of him or an electronic device to distract him, he just sat there as the Inn operated around him. And when he was done with his whiskey, he got up, nodded over at Darcy and went on his way.
She knew he was about to brave things with his son.