Chapter Twenty-Three
Darcy
Christmas Eve
Darcy sat up in bed. It was still dark, but she knew exactly what day it was. Christmas Eve. Her favourite day of the year.
Last night she’d made s’mores for the O’Sullivan boys, who were still trying to convince their parents they should try it when they got home to Ireland. She’d also told Ian Cunningham he had accommodation in Brooklyn, for which he’d been eternally grateful. Vanessa and Zach had enjoyed cocktails at the bar, Holly had headed out to a show at Radio City Hall with the sister of her friend who passed away, and she’d not heard anything from Myles or Martha Cunningham, but Ian’s face had said it all. And when he’d taken delivery of a Chinese takeaway and finally made his way upstairs to where the sound of voices told Darcy the family must have made some headway, she hoped this Christmas was going to run smoothly for everyone.
She climbed into the shower. This Christmas needed to go without a hitch and she felt confident she could pull it off. Strong, independent, and without the tangles that came with a relationship, it was the way she had always worked best.
After her shower she pulled on her stockings, a French navy dress with a scooped neckline and knitted ribbed trim. She ran a brush through her hair and twisted it up into a chignon. She had plenty to do today and went over it all in her mind. She needed to run through the food list again with Rupert and ensure they left nothing out. She needed to go to the Chelsea Market and pick up her seafood order. Tomorrow’s entrée would be a choice of either prawn cocktail or baked mushrooms with a ricotta stuffing.
She laughed to herself when her tummy gurgled at the thought of the feast they had planned, and it stopped her insides plummeting at the prospect of sharing a Christmas lunch with Myles. She wasn’t angry about his email anymore – largely because Holly had been so lovely about it – but regardless of that, what had happened had only served to remind her that rather than playing games and trying to battle her way through a relationship, her career was her main focus, her independence meant everything to her. All she had to do was push out the niggling voice that said she could always have both.
The Inn was cloaked in the remaining fragments of night and it was quiet when Darcy went down to the lounge. She loved this time of the morning before anyone else woke up, the start of Christmas Eve, the feeling of magic that hung in the air. She pushed the socket into the wall to switch on the tree lights and gazed into them. The smell of last night’s fire hovered in the air, reminding her she’d need to clean out the grate once again and lay another. When she’d seen Sofia doing it all the time she’d thought it a pain, but she knew now exactly why her friend’s mum had made the effort. The Inglenook Inn was at its absolute best in winter, with a roaring fire, and decorations all around with the promise of Christmas.
The sound of the front door opening brought her out of her trance. She turned to see Rupert. ‘You’re early.’ She kept her voice low even though once they were tucked away in their apartments guests probably enjoyed a relatively quiet night. Or at least as quiet as you could in Manhattan. There was always some level of noise, but living here you grew accustomed to it. The sound of traffic going back and forth as though it was still daytime, voices from people who wanted to become like the city and not sleep themselves, the blare of a car alarm, the distant hum from the bakery on the next street that started its day in the small hours with deliveries and noisy machinery to get the day’s baking underway.
‘Lots to do,’ he said with a cheer that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘First up, the gingerbread cookies.’
‘You’ll have everyone awake in seconds when the smell of those wafts through the hallway.’ She once again noticed how he didn’t seem quite himself. ‘You look shattered, Rupert.’
‘’Tis the season. Another early night for me again tonight I think. I’m getting old.’
‘Rubbish. You’re in your mid-forties, that’s nowhere near old.’
‘Thanks, I’ll try to bear that in mind.’ A broad smile spread across his face deepening the creases at his temples. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, Darcy.’
‘It’s Christmas Eve.’ Like a small child she felt all lit up inside.
‘And you’ll be doubly pleased of course.’ He hung his coat up, looped the scarf from his neck onto the hook, pushing it in so it wouldn’t fall off. ‘You’ll want to get a lot of photos. It’s almost light so you should do it while there’s not too much traffic around.’
‘What are you talking about?’
He grinned. ‘The snow!’
‘It’s snowing?’
He let out a laugh but then covered his mouth when she waved her hands to remind him people were still sleeping. ‘Sorry, forgot I’m on a different timeframe,’ he whispered. ‘But seriously, it’s lucky I only live three blocks away.’
Darcy dashed to the front door of the brownstone, pulled it open, and peeped out. There it was. A winter wonderland.
The whole neighbourhood was blanketed in white. The sidewalk was inches deep, the cars parked on either side of the street were like part of a painting, their colours hidden and shapes only outlined in white as snow spread across bonnets, up over the roofs and along the sides, allowing the odd wing mirror to stick out. Snow balanced on the top of streetlamps, on railings opposite, on bare trees that had long since shed their leaves. Down the middle of the street were grey tracks where cars must have cut through the white, and the pine trees in pots on either side of the front door had a dusting of snow to make them all the more Christmassy.
Darcy shut the door when she finally felt the cold. Dressed minimally and for inside temperatures only, she briskly rubbed her hands together and then rubbed her palms against her arms. She was still smiling when the door opened again behind her, and this time she was surprised to see it was Myles.
Clearly he hadn’t expected to see either of them standing there either.
‘Good morning,’ he said, looking quickly to Rupert and then focusing his attention on Darcy.
‘Good morning, Myles.’ Rupert scarpered off towards the kitchen.
Uneasy in his presence, Darcy offered her greeting and then said, ‘You’re up very early. Been for a run?’ She indicated the gear he was wearing.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
She took the dustpan and brush out from the cupboard. Sometimes she felt as though she may as well have the tools tied to a belt round her waist she used them so much. ‘Isn’t it hard to run in the snow?’
He shrugged, still panting slightly from the exertion. ‘It’s not so bad.’
‘Well that’s dedication.’
‘I’m afraid if I stop I’ll never get going again. I make sure I go a few times a week.’
She smiled, the light conversation a relief. ‘Are you working today?’
‘I’m taking the day off.’
For some reason it pleased her to hear. ‘I’m assuming that doesn’t happen very often.’
‘You are exactly right. I was all set to work, especially with Dad leaving, but now both my parents are here we’re going to have family time.’ He pulled a face. ‘It feels weird saying that.’
‘How’s it all going?’ She could tell by his expression that something had changed. He no longer looked harried. He looked open, receptive, and it unnerved her.
‘It’s going better than I expected. When Mum showed up I just thought there would be tension, a big shouting match, and then we’d all go our separate ways. I think I was so shocked she and Dad are both here that it forced me to make the effort to really listen for a change.’
‘I’m glad it’s all working out.’
‘Mum thought I’d come to New York to get away from her.’ He seemed to want to talk more and she couldn’t ignore him. He followed her into the lounge, where she bent down to clean out the grate. ‘The job came first, but she was right. I was trying to get away rather than face up to everything.’
Darcy carried on sweeping, making non-committal grunts along the way. She willed the smell of gingerbread to waft from the kitchen so she could rave about the Christmas cookies that would be served, the plans they had for tonight’s Christmas Eve menu, what was on the list for tomorrow.
‘Darcy, please look at me.’
She did, but only on her way to take the bag she’d filled with ashes down to the basement to throw in the trash.
He stopped her before she could pass him, his hand settling on her arm. He smelled of the outside, of the cold air and the icy blast, a subtle hint of laundry detergent on his clothes even though he’d been out running. ‘Darcy, please.’
‘Myles, I don’t think we need to say anything else. I’ve cleared it with Holly and she isn’t going to use the email information, so the Inn should get a good review and write-up – providing I can pull Christmas off.’ She added the last bit to try to inject a bit of humour, light-heartedness, in the hope he’d just let this go.
‘I don’t think there’s any doubt is there?’ His voice had a nervous edge to it, a vulnerability usually disguised beneath a well-cut, expensive suit.
‘We should be fine. But I need to get on, there’s so much to do.’
He accepted it for now, and didn’t try to push her on the issue of them. ‘I wanted to thank you for finding somewhere for my parents to stay,’ he said.
‘It was my pleasure. I’ve found them a room in a delightful hotel over in Brooklyn so not too far. I did suggest you all stay in your apartment.’ He pulled a face that made Darcy laugh. ‘Your dad reacted in pretty much the same way.’
‘Us three, all under one roof, in such close proximity?’ Myles shook his head and she noticed a snowflake, which had hovered on the surface as long as it could, disperse as it gave up resistance to the ambient temperature. ‘Now that’s a recipe for disaster.’
Darcy excused herself and Myles headed on up to his apartment. She went down to the basement and threw the remnants of last night’s fire into the trash, wondering how many more times he’d mention what had happened between them, how many times he’d try to make up for his mistake. On the one hand she longed for him to do so; on the other, the thought terrified her. When she stuck with work and her career, she knew what was what. When relationships came along, her mind got muddled and it was all too much.
By the time the scent of the gingerbread cookies made its way through the downstairs of the brownstone, the O’Sullivans were up and about, Vanessa and Zach were seated in the dining room, and Darcy had taken Ian and Martha a breakfast tray upstairs with freshly baked croissants, a fruit salad and squeezed orange juice.
The snow continued to fall and Darcy managed to get outside and take plenty of photos of the Inn, capturing the way the snow lined the outsides of the window panes, settled over the little arch on the front door, with the pine trees standing tall and proud and the railings bordering the stoop. She emailed them to Holly for inclusion in the article and sent a few photographs to Dylan to add to the website. He responded less than an hour later to say he’d added them, and suggested she write some short, snappy paragraphs about Christmas at the Inglenook Inn to explain the pictures, what customers could expect. Darcy got straight to it and, lo and behold, the changes had not even been live an hour when they generated a couple of very speedy emails from people enquiring about bookings for next Christmas. Giddy with excitement, Darcy took their details and said she’d talk with the owner and be sure to get in touch. She forwarded everything to Sofia and hoped she would see it as the opportunity Darcy believed it was.
With Christmas music in the background, a tray of gingerbread cookies on the side table for guests to help themselves, and the intense concentration she needed to place an order for some items on her inventory and ensure she didn’t order a ridiculous number of light bulbs or ten times too many miniature soaps, Darcy didn’t hear Myles come into the lounge until he was standing in front of the desk.
He smiled and it reminded her of the way he’d looked at her when he met her outside her apartment the night they’d been to The Plaza. She cleared her throat, thinking of something to say. ‘Have you been out again?’ He was freshly shaven, his hair neater than it had been this morning after his run. He had on jeans, a Canada Goose jacket different from the long, tailored coat he wore when he went out to work. It was almost like a different Myles standing here now.
‘I have. I love walking around when it’s snowing. It seems especially fitting at Christmas. Am I disturbing you?’
‘Myles, it’s not like you can’t talk to me. I run the Inn, you stay at the Inn. Our paths will inevitably cross.’
‘I’m glad you feel that way.’ From the cardboard tray he was holding he took out one cup. ‘My folks are having some time together and I needed a really good cup of coffee. This other one is for you.’
She stood up from behind the desk. She’d thought the two coffees were for his parents and he’d drunk his on the way. It was one of Darcy’s favourite things to do – grab a coffee while out and about on the streets of Manhattan and let its warmth slide right through her as she battled the weather to find her way home.
‘Thank you, Myles.’ It was a gift from a guest. A festive gesture. Nothing more. She took a grateful sip and, surprised, said, ‘It’s a caramel macchiato. How did you know?’
‘Lucky guess,’ he shrugged.
How had he known? ‘Well, thank you very much.’ She shut her eyes and, although unnerved, sipped again. ‘You’ve no idea how much I need this today. I might even treat myself to another when I go out later.’
‘Venturing anywhere nice?’
She could do this. He was just another person out of the many staying at the Inn. And she wasn’t thinking about kissing him, not at all. She gulped and did her best to keep the conversation platonic, at least out loud. ‘Not likely. I’ve got to get to the Chelsea Market to collect a seafood order for tomorrow. Rupert did mention that he’d go after he’d finished with breakfasts but some guests have ordered lunch, he’ll have this evening’s food to prepare and then there’s tomorrow. And he looks exhausted.’
‘I guess full capacity means more work for him.’
‘It does. He’s juggling this and another job. Hopefully this will eventually become his sole focus, but it’s something the boss herself needs to make plans for.’
The music shifted and soothing sounds of Michael Bublé’s ‘White Christmas’ played out on the speaker in the corner.
‘Kind of appropriate,’ Myles commented. ‘White Christmases were rare in England.’
‘It’s funny. I’d always expected one when I went there. I blame the movies. Name one Christmas movie that doesn’t feature snow.’
He laughed. ‘You know, I can’t think of any. Wow, I haven’t seen a Christmas movie in ages.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘I never usually have the time.’
‘Or you never usually make the time.’ She hid behind another sip of coffee in case her comment cut too deep.
He took the remark well. ‘You’re right, and I can’t guarantee my work ethic will change, but I will try from now on to remember that there are other things that are just as important.’
Maybe they weren’t so different from one another after all.
The words hung between them until Adele appeared, ready to get going with the wrapping.
‘They’re on their way out now,’ Adele whispered, ‘over to Central Park to enjoy the snow. I’ll join them later.’
Darcy tapped the side of her nose as footsteps pounded down the stairs announcing the arrival of both boys.
Myles leaned in and Darcy didn’t miss his glance to her lips before he lifted his focus. ‘What’s going on?’
She drew her lips inwards in case she had coffee froth lingering anywhere. ‘Operation Santa,’ she said with a wink.
When the family bustled out of the door Darcy grabbed the wrapping paper, Sellotape, scissors and labelling accessories and went into the dining room with Adele. She’d cleared it with Rupert that they could use the big dining table. Lunch wasn’t for a while so they could spread everything out here.
Adele retrieved gifts from wherever she’d hidden them and they got to work. It took far longer than Darcy had estimated and by the time they were wrapping the final few pieces for the stockings, she remembered she had an errand to run.
‘The seafood.’ She got up from the table, flustered. ‘Damn, you’ll have to excuse me, Adele, or else we won’t have a key ingredient for tomorrow.’
‘Don’t apologise. I could never have wrapped these so quickly without your help. I’ll do these last few, then bag them all up before I head out to meet my family. Is there anywhere I can hide them?’
‘In the basement, it’s perfect. But it’s locked right now as I don’t want guests going down there. The staircase is ridiculously steep.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’ Holly stepped into the room. ‘Whoa, that’s a lot of gifts.’
‘Santa has been crazy generous this year,’ Adele admitted. ‘Lucky we were under the limit with our luggage weight or this would send us over the edge on the return trip.’
Holly gestured to a chair. ‘May I?’
‘Of course. You any good at wrapping?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am. I’m one of those weird people that finds it soothing.’
Darcy grinned. Soothing wasn’t exactly the description she’d use. ‘I’ll leave you two to it,’ she said, but they were already deep in discussion about gift tags and what made the best ribbons, impossible shapes to wrap, what Adele had bought for her boys. Holly even offered to stash all of the presents in her apartment out of the way of prying eyes until very late tonight. The place was too big for just her anyway, she’d said.
Darcy bundled up warm and stepped out onto the snowy Manhattan streets. She couldn’t stop smiling. It was almost Christmas, magic was in the air, and everything was going perfectly. She headed straight for the Chelsea Market complex, where she first collected their pre-ordered prawns. Then she went to the fruit and vegetable markets with her list from Rupert and picked up anything else they needed, and less than an hour and a half later bustled through the doors to the Inglenook Inn and the ringing telephone.
She dropped the bags to the floor, rushed to get it and found it was Mr and Mrs Pendleton, who were stranded in Toronto. Their flight had been cancelled and they wouldn’t make it to New York for Christmas after all. Darcy was apologetic on behalf of the weather even though there was nothing she could’ve done about it, but as soon as she hung up, she called through to the hotel in Brooklyn and cancelled the emergency booking she’d made for the Cunninghams. Myles and his family could all have Christmas under the same roof and for some reason it lifted her spirits to an impossible high.
She unbuttoned her coat, hung it up, took the food through to the kitchen where Rupert was in full flow preparing for that evening.
‘How did the gingerbread cookies go down?’ he asked as he perused the food she’d bought to check he’d be working with the best ingredients.
‘Well, there’s an empty tray upstairs – that should tell you something,’ she smiled.
She helped unload the food, emptied the dishwasher so Rupert could focus on preparations for tonight, when guests would be served canapés and champagne over the course of a few hours as and when they wanted to indulge. It was what Christmas Eve was all about for Darcy. A chance to sparkle, dress up and talk with guests, feel that small-town spirit even here in the big city.
She only hoped she could manage to think of Myles as she would any other guest. But she knew that wasn’t going to be easy. Making a decision not to take her feelings any further and to be professional was one thing, but actually going through with it and keeping her distance was something else entirely.