Chapter Twenty-Four
Myles
Myles couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his parents laugh so hard. It was cathartic, a tremendous relief from the tension over not only the last couple of days but all the years since he was a little boy.
At an ice rink on the east side of Central Park, with a city backdrop and the snow continuing to fall, they’d rented skates and gone from an unsteady, teetering Bambi-like trio to three reasonably competent skaters – unless you looked at some of the kids who were skating backwards, twisting this way and that, or even doing some kind of spin with one foot off the floor.
‘Come on, Myles!’ Martha wobbled on her ice-skates as she came round the rink again, holding on to Ian’s hand. ‘Show us oldies how it’s done!’
Myles had skated enough loops that he’d snuck off, not only for a rest but to allow his parents this time together. What they didn’t realise was that as well as enjoying their company, what he was revelling in was seeing their relationship so strong, so different from how he remembered. It was great to see, and he’d already texted Winston a photograph as evidence.
‘I’ll join you again soon,’ he called after them as his mum laughed away and his dad, a fierce concentration on his face, was the one to wobble this time. They’d stayed upright thankfully. The last thing he wanted was to have to take either of them back to the Inn with broken bones or kaput hips.
Darcy had texted Ian a couple of hours ago as they walked over to the rink, to say that the move to Brooklyn tomorrow was off because a couple had cancelled their stay at the Inn. Myles’ parents were welcome to stay for a few more nights. Ian and Martha had been ecstatic and Myles had felt an excitement he hadn’t experienced in years. Pre-Christmas was usually a time filled with dread, but, now, it was like being a child all over again.
The air was freezing standing here by the rink. Myles hadn’t quite known cold like it before, but it was part of the New York experience, and the only other thing he really wanted here, the only thing that could make it extra perfect, would be to have Darcy by his side. But she’d made a firm decision and he got the impression she wasn’t the type of woman to be easily swayed. His mum had tried to talk to him about her as they’d made their way towards Central Park, but although they’d sorted out a lot of things, he wasn’t quite ready for those kinds of discussions yet.
Myles joined his parents one last time and when their legs ached from the effort to balance, their faces were red and sore from the onslaught of the cold, it was time to recuperate with hot drinks at a café on their way back to the Inn.
‘I was impressed with you both today.’ Myles cradled a coffee as his mum unwrapped her scarf, took off her coat and his dad hung it on the back of the chair for her.
‘I haven’t done that in a very long time.’ The cold, still evident on Ian’s face by his red nose and cheeks, hadn’t driven away the look of delight that Myles had waited years to see. He looked relaxed, ready to take on whatever life threw at him.
‘I think the last time I went ice-skating was with Winston,’ said Myles, ‘when we took his kids to the rink in Richmond. Remember, they went through a craze of wanting to learn and take lessons?’
Martha smiled. ‘Didn’t last long, then it was onto indoor climbing, wasn’t it?’
‘And don’t forget diving – wasn’t that Lulu’s dream after watching the Olympics on television?’
‘I guess kids have their dreams, don’t they?’ Martha stirred a sachet of sugar through her coffee.
‘I always wanted to be a pilot,’ Myles confessed.
‘I never knew that.’ The happiness on Martha’s face wavered for a second.
He hadn’t meant her to feel guilty. They were chatting about inconsequential things, but he guessed it had been around the time she’d started drinking and his dad was away a lot. ‘I was fascinated. Actually, I still am.’ He’d make a joke, lighten the mood. ‘I mean, how do planes stay up in the sky?’
It worked. His mum smiled. ‘I sat looking out over the wing on the way here and found myself wondering the same thing.’
Conversation turned to flying, destinations, holidays, hopes and dreams they’d all had. Myles learned his dad had wanted to make cars once upon a time and that his mum had always dreamt of having her own wool shop.
‘You know, it’s called yarn here,’ Myles told her, glad they could talk about something she was comfortable with. He realised over the years he’d probably punished her, subtly, mostly without thinking about it, but now he was conscious to turn things around and make just as much effort as she was. He’d gone to sleep last night thinking what if she’d died and they’d never made peace, and the thought had had him tossing and turning until the small hours, because it was unbearable.
‘I haven’t knitted anything in years,’ Martha told them. ‘I saw Darcy knitting yesterday and almost asked her about it but she looked like she was finally having a few minutes to herself so I left her to it. I’ll have to ask her about it later.’
‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,’ said Ian. ‘I think she sees it as part of her job to make customers feel almost like they’re at home rather than away in a strange place. She’ll go far that one.’
Myles didn’t miss the look from his dad but chose not to mention it. Instead, they talked about the gathering at the Inn tonight. He wondered whether Darcy would be there the whole time, or if guests would be left to their own devices. The other people staying under the same roof seemed pleasant enough, but it was Darcy who interested him the most. He had a while left staying at the Inn and hoped in that time she’d still be there too, although when the owner returned she was bound to move on to something different. And in a city the size of New York, he might never see her again.
‘I think it’ll be far nicer than finding a stuffy restaurant with hordes of other people and not being able to talk above the noise,’ said Ian.
‘You did well to find the Inglenook Inn, Myles.’ Martha put her teaspoon into her empty mug.
‘I’ve been happy with it. The apartment I’ll be moving into should be ready soon.’
‘Oh, you must take us to see it! Please, before I leave.’
‘I promise I will. There’s too much snow today to trudge over there but we’ll do it after Christmas, how does that sound?’
‘It sounds pretty good to me.’
And for the first time in forever, Myles felt like he was part of a fully functioning family.
*
When the skies outside grew dark, they congregated outside his parents’ apartment ready to head downstairs and join everyone else. His dad looked dapper in black trousers – although he supposed he should get with the New York lingo and call them pants – and a burgundy shirt. His mum had on a cream silk top with an indigo scarf tied in a loose knot at the front and the necklace with a single pearl drop at the end that she’d always worn. Myles wore jeans teamed with a white shirt beneath a charcoal sweater. He’d splashed on his usual aftershave, checked his reflection more than once, and he hoped he’d get to talk to Darcy at least a little bit tonight.
‘Merry Christmas!’ Holly greeted Martha the second she stepped off the bottom step. Myles grinned. She was clearly in the Christmas spirit and goodness knows how much champagne or eggnog she’d had.
He stopped his dad while his mum was otherwise occupied. ‘Is Mum going to be OK tonight?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The alcohol, Dad.’
‘The liquor?’
Myles’s head tipped back when he laughed at his dad trying to get in with the way New Yorkers spoke. He’d started saying he was nipping to the restroom instead of the bathroom, he’d filled a glass of water from the faucet rather than the tap, and now he was talking about liquor. ‘Very Manhattan.’ He patted his dad on the shoulder.
‘She’ll be fine, son.’ His face softened, despite the seriousness of the topic. ‘She is being incredible, strong, and you have a lot to do with that.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. If you hadn’t wanted to hear her apologies, if you’d chosen not to go some way to forgive her, then I’m not sure how she would’ve reacted. I like to think we could’ve handled it together, but I’m just glad we didn’t have to.’ He patted his son on the shoulder, just once, but firmly, before joining his wife as she sipped from a glass of orange juice, a strawberry pushed onto the side of the vessel.
Myles took a glass of champagne rather than eggnog, a drink he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to experiment with. He nodded hellos to the O’Sullivans as the father and sons admired the Christmas tree. He watched the young couple, Vanessa and Zach, twirl one another in time to the music, slowly in the compact space now filled with guests but enjoying the moment nonetheless, and when he finally battled his way through he found Darcy standing with a silver platter of canapés resting on one forearm.
She held out the platter to him. ‘Myles, Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas, Darcy.’ He didn’t take anything but when she pushed the platter closer he asked, ‘What do we have here? They look delicious.’
‘These are sausages covered in a hoisin sauce with sesame seeds. They’re good.’
He picked one up. ‘I don’t doubt they are.’
‘Try it.’
‘Are you trying to make me eat so I can’t talk and ask you any questions?’
Her cheeks coloured. ‘Of course not.’
‘You’re wearing the same dress,’ he said, his eyes not looking away, his fingers twiddling the cocktail stick and the sausage still in one piece on the end of it. ‘The dress you wore to The Plaza.’
‘I like to make the most of my clothes.’
‘I didn’t mean it as a criticism. You look beautiful.’
She went to move past him but Holly came up behind her and said, ‘Point me to the champagne, Darcy.’
Darcy tipped her head. ‘Over there. I left some fresh glasses lined up on the bar.’
When Holly left, Myles lowered his voice. ‘How many of those has she had?’
‘No idea, but she was first here tonight.’
‘She’s having fun.’
‘She is.’
‘Good for your write-up next year.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
Damn, he shouldn’t have made any reference to the editor’s write-up. Darcy had already turned with the platter to offer the sausages to Adele and her elder son. They both took a couple and when the youngest son helped himself and almost put a half-eaten one back after realising it wasn’t to his taste, Darcy leaned in and asked him very nicely to drop it in the trash near the bar. She had a way with everyone it seemed.
Myles chatted with Zach about ice-skating in Central Park. They’d been earlier too and Vanessa had come off the worst with a bruised hip and a graze up her arm that was irritated by the bangles she was wearing.
Myles talked with his dad some more, he spoke to Holly about anything other than the Inn and his email, and he exchanged pleasantries with Rupert when he came out to deliver another platter of food to Darcy and take away the one that had been emptied in a few short minutes.
Christmas music played softly in the background and the ambience tonight was so right that Myles was glad to be a part of it.
When he got another orange juice for his mum, he happened to be right next to Darcy, who was greeting two newcomers who weren’t staying at the Inn. Darcy kissed each of them on the cheek and asked after someone called Grandpa Joe, as well as asking about the kids and sympathising at tales of sleepless nights while the couple’s baby was teething. She thanked the man for updating the website and told him she’d already had further enquiries about booking in for Christmas next year.
‘Myles, these are two very good friends of mine,’ Darcy explained as she held a platter of pumpernickel bites with a beetroot and cream cheese topping. ‘This is Dylan and this is Cleo, and they have a much-needed night off from the kids. Now, I’m really sorry, but I have to circulate and feed the masses. Cleo, don’t leave until I’ve shown you my progress with the sweater. Promise?’ When Cleo agreed Darcy was off again and Myles watched after her, unable to avoid admiring her figure in the dress that hugged every curve of her body.
Myles turned and shook Dylan’s hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you both.’ He did the same with Cleo, unsure of the etiquette. He never knew whether it was better to kiss a woman on the cheek or go with the handshake, but she didn’t seem to mind the avenue he’d chosen. ‘And you look like you’re enjoying a night out.’
‘Oh, we are,’ Cleo replied, her cheeks still rosy from the cold outside. ‘We don’t get much free time, but when we do, it’s all the more special.’
He could tell these two were completely in love and felt a pang of regret that he’d never found that. ‘So where are you guys from? Here in Manhattan?’
‘Actually,’ said Dylan, ‘we were both living in Manhattan but now we live out in Inglenook Falls, Connecticut. And Cleo is from England.’
‘You are?’
They talked some more about the Cotswolds, a region he was familiar with and where Cleo had lived too.
‘Are you liking New York?’ Cleo wanted to know.
‘I’m liking it more than I thought. I had a suspicion the city would be too manic for me, but it kind of works if you know what I mean. Do you miss being here?’
‘I don’t,’ Dylan admitted, a bottle of low-alcohol beer in his hand. ‘I moved out a while before Cleo because I got to the point where I needed to. I still love coming back here, like tonight. It’s a real treat now, especially when we come here kid-free.’
‘You sound like my brother. He has kids and on the rare occasion he gets his wife to himself he says it’s as though he’s living a different life.’
Dylan chuckled. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘I haven’t had much of a chance to miss Manhattan either,’ Cleo admitted. ‘Family life is a bit crazy and then my knitting store keeps me busy whenever I dare to think I might have a free moment. But I’m the same as Dylan, I like coming to the city occasionally and I remember it for all the fabulous things it offers.’
When Darcy walked by, Dylan told her to send on any more photos and he’d update the website as soon as he could. ‘Sorry – I promise, no more work talk,’ he told Cleo.
Cleo turned to Myles with a frown. ‘He loves web design a bit too much sometimes. Careful or he’ll start talking about it with you.’
‘I’m not that bad,’ Dylan admonished. ‘And I know you want to tell Darcy all the latest about your work.’
Cleo smiled. ‘Actually he’s right, I’d be a hypocrite if I told him off for talking about websites.’ She linked her arm through Dylan’s and told Myles, ‘I run a store and a Christmas market stall and next year I have a much bigger plot at the Inglenook Markets, so I’m already a bit over-excited.’
‘That’s an understatement,’ said Dylan.
‘How do you manage both?’ Myles asked.
‘This year it hasn’t been too bad as the stall is quite small. My former assistant, Kaisha, went travelling around Europe when she finished college – Paris, London, Milan – but she’s back in New York in the spring and has promised me she’ll help out next Christmas.’ She crossed her fingers. ‘She’s a godsend.’
‘Work is always better if you have a team you can rely on,’ said Myles. ‘And don’t apologise for talking work, I get it. I usually eat, breathe and sleep work, but took the day off today.’
‘I wish Darcy would do that.’ Cleo watched after her friend, laughing with a couple of the guests. ‘Sorry,’ she said to Dylan and Myles, ‘just thinking out loud. You know’ – she leaned closer – ‘the girl is all work and no play.’
‘Cleo,’ Dylan warned.
‘What? I’m not being mean. Believe me. I’ve been there before, hid behind my work rather than putting myself out there, I know all the signs. She says she’s happy, but she deserves more, you know?’
Myles nodded but she hadn’t finished.
‘Do you know, she had her first proper date in years the other night, and it was a disaster?’
‘Really?’ Should he admit it was him?
‘It sounds as though she was really smitten but for reasons I won’t go into, it was the only date they’ll ever have. Shame really.’
His heart sank. He looked over at Darcy, her lips glossy and teeth white when she smiled, oozing a confidence he knew hid a softer side, one she built a wall around so she could focus on her independence, what she knew she could rely on.
As his eyes roamed the room he noticed his mum hovering awkwardly by the Christmas tree as Ian talked with Mr O’Sullivan. She seemed to be having a good time, but she was also a little lost. ‘Mum, over here.’
She gladly came over and he introduced her to Dylan and Cleo. ‘Mum, Cleo owns a knitting store out in Inglenook Falls. It’s not too far from here, is it?’ He was sure Connecticut was reachable from Manhattan.
‘That’s right, not far on a train,’ Cleo confirmed.
Martha moved closer to Cleo, and Myles made room for them. ‘I was saying to Myles earlier today that it’s been far too long since I picked up any knitting. I loved it.’
‘You’ll have to come by the store. It’ll be open again after New Year’s.’
‘That’s a shame, we’ll be home in England by then.’
‘Not to worry,’ said Cleo, her eyes twinkling, ‘come by next time you’re in New York.’
When his mum glanced nervously his way, Myles nodded to her. Rather than wishing he could put more distance between them, he now welcomed ways of bringing his family back together again. ‘I’ll make sure she does,’ he said.
The rest of the evening went well. The champagne flowed in the right direction – he couldn’t help checking his mum wasn’t drinking anything alcoholic and he sensed she knew, but didn’t mind this time – and over in one corner near the tree a few of the guests played a game of charades. Even Ian and Martha joined in. Canapés came and went. Darcy flitted to and fro relishing the ambience that came from the party she’d hosted and the warmth she’d created, and by the time the last guests filtered off to their rooms Myles was left saying goodbye to Dylan and Cleo in the hallway. Cleo had passed him the details of her knitting store in Inglenook Falls and he’d promised to have his mum call her when she was next in New York so they could sort out a visit. Cleo told him she ran workshops for all levels if his mum wanted to attend one and he knew she’d leap at the chance, if only to get involved in something new.
Myles gathered glasses to take through to the kitchen. He was wired rather than exhausted and there was no way he’d be able to sleep yet.
‘You don’t need to help,’ said Darcy, although not ungratefully.
‘Have you seen this place?’ Glasses and napkins everywhere, the trash can overflowing and spills on several surfaces, it had been a successful but messy party. ‘It’s the least I can do. And remember I’m not used to taking it easy. This is a day off for me.’
‘Well I appreciate it.’ Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders, across smooth skin he remembered what it felt like to touch in those fleeting moments at The Plaza, where they’d been closer than they’d been since.
‘It sounds as though Cleo’s store is a real success,’ he said as he followed her through to the kitchen.
‘The Little Knitting Box?’
‘It even sounds a winner by its name.’
‘It’s a lovely store. And Cleo knows a thing or two about knitting. I’m still surprised she was impressed with the sweater I’m knitting. I showed her and I thought she’d think it was terrible. Did you know the Little Knitting Box was originally in the West Village?’
‘Really?’
She set down the cluster of glasses she’d brought out, tapped Rupert on the shoulder and thanked him for all his hard work tonight. ‘You go home, Rupert, I’ve got this. And I’ve got a helper too.’ She looked to Myles. ‘You’re not going to rescind your offer are you?’
He shook his head.
Rupert gratefully dried his hands, bid them both goodnight, said he was going home to collapse into bed and he’d see them in the morning.
The two of them alone again, Darcy got busy stacking the dishwasher. ‘Cleo’s shop was in the West Village for years.’
‘What happened?’ Myles began washing up some of the larger platters.
‘Dylan put her out of business.’ Smiling at the look on his face, she added, ‘Long story but it ended happily. She now owns and runs the Little Knitting Box out in Inglenook Falls. You should go some time. Now you know Dylan and Cleo, go say hello. They have a wonderful Christmas market every year, which we’re too late for this time, but next year. And it’s not all about shopping. It’s also about the mulled cider, gingerbread and roasted chestnuts.’
‘You’re inviting me?’
She hid her face by stacking cutlery in the dedicated section inside the dishwasher. ‘We’ve talked about this, Myles.’
‘I don’t get it.’
She looked at him. ‘Get what?’
‘Why you won’t give me another chance.’
‘Because I’ve spent a long time building my career. I like my independence, I value it. I want to keep it. Surely you must know how that feels.’
Before she had a chance to end the conversation he said, ‘Cleo thinks you’re doing what she once did.’
‘You spoke about me?’
He shrugged. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Depends what was said.’
‘She thinks you work too hard.’
She bristled. ‘Yeah, well if we’d had this conversation when she was first building up the Little Knitting Box a few years ago, I suspect she would’ve understood exactly where I was coming from.’ She went through to the lounge again and wiped down the bar top, the ring mark on the desk where someone had placed a cold glass of champagne.
He followed her. ‘Thank you for this evening. Mum, Dad and I all had a brilliant time.’
‘It was my pleasure.’
He watched her as she plucked crumbs from one of the armchairs, a discarded napkin from the floor. ‘It means a lot that we can have Christmas together.’
She still didn’t fully engage.
‘Darcy.’ When she stood to take out the trash she’d picked up he put a hand on her arm to stop her. And then he smiled. He reached up and hooked her hair behind her ear. ‘You’re wearing the earrings I gave you.’ The diamonds sparkled as much as her smile had tonight.
‘Myles, I—’
‘Can we talk? I mean properly.’ He nodded to the sofa. ‘Over there, sit down together.’
‘Myles, I’ve too much to do. And I’m exhausted. It’s going to be a big day tomorrow. A day that means a lot, personally and career-wise.’
He placed his hands against each of her cheeks, looking down into ice-blue eyes that shone as they focused on his, her lips still coated with gloss he wanted to kiss away. ‘Cinderella, all this won’t disappear or turn into a pumpkin if you stay up past midnight.’
Her eyes held his a split second longer before she pulled away and picked up the garbage bag in the corner and tied it at the top.
‘Darcy?’
‘Go to bed, Myles.’
‘What the hell have I done now?’
‘Cinderella?’
‘It was a joke!’ He’d done it again, but all he’d wanted to do was lighten the tension between them, get this girl to open up to him.
‘That’s the whole problem though, isn’t it?’ The garbage was heavy and she used a second hand to steady it. ‘It’s all a joke to you. You go out in your expensive suit, dine at fancy restaurants, flatter women with gifts like earrings, but I’ve known men like you. They want the dream, the woman who’ll be by their side and support them. Don’t get me wrong, that’s fine for so many, but I can’t ever be one of those women. I don’t have a longing to be spoilt, a wish that I didn’t have to work the hours I do. I like the way I’ve built my life and I won’t ever give it up.’ Her eyes darted to his as she tried to reiterate how serious she was with everything she said. And then her hands went to one ear lobe and then the other.
‘What are you doing?’
She handed him the earrings she’d removed, the one thing he’d given her.
‘They won’t take them back, remember?’
‘Myles, take them.’
‘They were a gift.’
‘And it wasn’t appropriate.’ Her hand hovered, earrings ready to drop into his.
He put his hands behind his back, a cheeky smile forming on his lips. ‘I won’t take them.’
He almost thought she’d relent and put them back in but he should’ve known by now that backing down wasn’t something Darcy did. ‘Fine,’ she said. She put them down on the side table. ‘But I can’t keep them.’
‘Darcy, please.’
She moved towards the door leading to the basement just as they were joined by footsteps on the stairs.
‘Adele.’ Darcy was shocked to see the other guest this late. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘It’s a disaster. Holly hid all the boys’ gifts from Santa in her apartment and I’ve knocked on her door over and over, but I think she had so much champagne she must be comatose in there. If I don’t get those presents under the tree tonight, Christmas will be a catastrophe.’
Darcy left the garbage bag, went back to the desk and called Holly’s mobile. Mrs O’Sullivan was fretting, telling Myles how the elder boy was beginning to doubt Santa Claus existed and that if the presents weren’t there tomorrow morning, that would be it for good.
Darcy finally got an answer. ‘Holly, it’s Darcy. Yes, from downstairs. I’m sorry to wake you.’ She went on to explain the predicament and Myles had no choice but to leave them to it.
He watched the snow fall outside the window in the lounge, standing inside in the room where he wished the fire was roaring and Darcy was by his side so they could sort through this. He’d tried to make jokes to ease the atmosphere between them but it had backfired, and now he really didn’t know what he could possibly do.
He picked up the diamond earrings from the side table, pushed them into his pocket and went upstairs to bed.