Chapter Six
Myles
Twelve days until Christmas
Myles was glad he’d stopped at the two neat bourbons last night, or his head wouldn’t be at all clear this morning. It was foggy anyway but he knew it had more to do with Darcy than it did the alcohol. Most women who crossed his path he either got involved with or he didn’t. They rarely hung around in his mind long enough to bother him.
There was a time when Myles hadn’t been able to touch alcohol, but once he’d left home and his mum finally got her act together, he’d gradually been able to enjoy a drink or two. He never had too many though; he couldn’t stand the thought of ending up anything like his mum had in those darker days. Seeing her completely wasted was the stuff of nightmares, and not something he ever intended to replicate. Many a time, mates had tried to cajole him into late-night drinking sessions and he managed them by seeming to go along with what they wanted but ensuring he drank very slowly. By the time he stopped drinking, they’d always been too wasted to notice he wasn’t downing the drinks at the rate they were.
His client meeting hadn’t gone well at all yesterday but Myles made up for it that morning. He impressed an existing client with a PowerPoint presentation that left them in no doubt of his expertise, he had a meeting with his manager that went well, and the seven deals he had on the go at the same time were all ticking over as expected. He looked at pricing tables for a loan for a client, he negotiated which banks would lead the transactions for another and the fees they intended to charge, and he read over a credit agreement before taking an afternoon meeting with one of his firm’s top clients.
‘Myles, do you have a moment?’ His manager, Neil, poked his head around the door long after most people had left the office for the day.
‘Sure, boss. Come in.’ He entered the figure he’d calculated into a spreadsheet, clicked save and turned his chair back to face the front of his desk. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘How are you settling in?’
‘Really well.’
‘And the Inn is good?’
‘It’s excellent, thank you.’ His boss reminded him of his father both in looks and his no-nonsense approach. Both of them had the same air of authority that came naturally, the hair that was more grey than silver, and the expensive suits and accessories. He had on an Alpina Startimer Pilot watch with a brown leather strap and blue dial. Myles should know. His dad had been wearing the same watch since his mum gave it as a Christmas gift last year.
‘My wife put me onto it. I shall let her know she did good.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Myles smiled, wondering what this chat was about. He was excelling in his role so he was confident it wasn’t any kind of reproof.
‘So, the Christmas party.’ Ah, now they were getting somewhere. ‘I do expect a full attendance.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll be there.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘I’m looking forward to seeing The Plaza.’
Neil grinned. ‘I’ve had it booked for quite some time – it’ll be a night to remember. It’ll be a chance for you to really get to know your co-workers, partners, clients.’
Myles didn’t need much convincing. Since he’d arrived in Manhattan he’d done little else apart from work, eat, sleep and run, so a night out sounded just what he needed.
‘We have some important clients coming along this time.’ Neil elaborated and Myles took all the information in, soaking up what he needed to. Neil also talked about a potential new client, a firm that would be represented by its CEO and General Manager. He regurgitated facts about other clients and firms they already had on their books.
Myles had done his research before starting this job and he knew the information already. He’d spent his flight over here reading up on the history of the company, many evenings at the Inn finding out about the firm’s range of clients, and he rarely switched off. So where was this going?
‘I’m keen to impress and get this new client on board,’ said Neil.
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour.’ Myles’s answer didn’t seem to have the desired effect and his boss, being the man Myles already knew he was, came straight to the point.
‘I’ve known these people for a while. They’re well respected. They’ll all be bringing their wives. You know the way it is. Wives go off in their little huddle and put the world to rights, we men kick back with a cigar and a whiskey and talk business.’
‘Right.’ Was he asking if Myles smoked? Or whether he drank whiskey? The latter he could manage and if he needed to have the odd cigar to chew the fat with potential clients, so be it. It wasn’t his favourite pastime but he could do it as a one-off.
‘It’s old-fashioned, I know,’ his boss went on. Still Myles wasn’t really sure what he was getting at. ‘These affairs are usually more balanced if the wives come along.’
‘Can’t magic one of those up, I’m afraid.’ Myles fidgeted in his seat. His eyes were sore from looking at the screen for too long and, as darkness had descended over Manhattan, he was ready to get out of here, but his boss was prolonging his escape.
‘How about you ask Rhonda,’ Neil suggested.
‘My secretary, Rhonda? I suppose I could, but is it really necessary? I mean, if I was asked I’d have to say I was single.’
‘These clients slipped through the net last time, Myles. I really want to secure their trust. I’m not saying you absolutely have to bring someone, but last time we landed a client of their stature and size it was following a friendship struck up between the wives, one that landed the women in Martha’s Vineyard, costing me more money than I care to think about,’ he guffawed, ‘but here at the firm I believe business and pleasure can be mixed to make for really good prospects.’
Myles had experienced this before. Five years ago his sister-in-law had set him up with a friend of hers to attend a business function. His date had impressed everyone he worked with, apart from him. Not that she wasn’t pleasant company, a half-decent conversationalist and reasonably attractive. It’s just that he didn’t want to get involved. Not until he was really sure about someone. When you’d grown up in a family like his you saw what marriage could do to people, what it could do to kids. Myles had spent the whole evening becoming more and more uncomfortable as he realised she was looking for a lot more than he could offer. And when the evening was over and he had to say he wasn’t looking for a relationship, he knew he’d hurt her. He hadn’t wanted to do that, she didn’t deserve it. But taking Rhonda or anyone else to this Christmas function was going to be like history repeating itself. And besides, he liked Rhonda in a purely platonic way. Thirteen years his junior, she had a pleasant manner and was a damn fine secretary, and he didn’t want to ruin that.
‘I’ll find someone to bring along,’ said Myles. It wasn’t a suggestion from Neil but a requirement and he wanted to secure this client as much as his boss did, especially if they’d slipped through the net last time. This would be another chance to prove himself and he was always up for the challenge.
‘Great.’ His boss stood, satisfied with the outcome. ‘Talking of other halves, I’d better get home or my wife will be sending out the search party.’
After Neil left, Myles turned his chair to face his computer but when the figures swam in front of his eyes he admitted defeat, tidied the papers on his desk and left everything ready to face again in the morning.
*
Outside, on the stoop of the Inglenook Inn, Myles passed the family who were staying in the apartment on the floor below his. They bustled past and out the door and he nodded a friendly hello. He’d wondered whether they were going to be too noisy during their stay, but so far they were model guests. He hadn’t heard a sound apart from the usual street noise and he was usually so exhausted that he slept soundly whatever was going on around him.
He wiped his feet on the mat and shut the heavy door behind him. Already he could smell the scent from the fireplace and knew it would be lit, hypnotic in its presence. The thought comforted him until he got a waft of a different smell mingled with the woodsmoke: pine. And it conjured up memories he’d rather forget. He wondered, would it be too impolite to walk right past the lounge and totally ignore it? If he didn’t see it at all over the festive period it would be fine by him. Bad enough there was already a tree in the dining room in his opinion.
He set down his briefcase, took off his coat – unnecessary now he was wrapped in the warmth of the brownstone – and from the hallway could see Darcy busying herself at the desk, typing on the computer. He watched for a moment, surprised at how different she looked with her hair falling about her shoulders. Soft waves shimmered in the light of the desk lamp and she took on a softer appearance now she looked less businesslike. She was standing as though she’d been in the middle of something else and he wondered how many hours she put in running the Inn. Probably more than even he did, but he supposed they both loved their jobs. His mum had never worked, not that he would’ve minded. Perhaps it would’ve stopped her becoming so lost along the way and things could’ve turned out very differently. She’d always been there for her boys physically but that was as far as it went. And when they reached their teen years and didn’t long for her company as much, he hadn’t missed the regret on her face at what had gone before.
The doors to the lounge were permanently open in a doorway that was much wider than you’d expect of a brownstone, and they were all the more welcoming now the tree was in position. He could see how it would draw guests to the communal area, perhaps lure people in from the street to enquire about bookings. Darcy had a good head on her shoulders. He expected her hotel career would go far.
He smiled at Darcy when she looked up, then turned his gaze to the tree, psyching himself up to show at least some enthusiasm. ‘It’s huge!’
She smiled and came round to the front of the desk. ‘I’m glad you like it.’ She went over to the tree, which was yet to be decorated, and he noticed she’d already begun stringing lights from the top all the way down to the bottom. The wires were still protruding and she crouched down beneath the tree to push in the pieces that were on the floor so it looked neat.
She tried to reverse out gracefully but stopped when her hair got caught on one of the lower branches. He watched her attempt to free herself but she couldn’t do it without the benefit of being able to see where the tangles were.
‘Here, let me.’ He bent down and gradually pulled each silky strand from the needled branch, the air a mixture of pine and a more pleasant zesty shampoo.
‘Thanks.’ She brushed at her hair with her hand. He loved that his touch had made her uneasy enough that she couldn’t look at him. She seemed so in control most of the time, but the gesture showed she was as human as everyone else. ‘Now all I need to do is decorate it.’ She pushed the plug into the socket and the white lights dazzled him momentarily.
‘Is your chef still here?’ asked Myles, feeling the need to escape.
She’d obviously become lost in the task of decorating a Christmas tree – only for a split second, but her expression told him enough to know she was snapping back to hostess mode. ‘He isn’t, but I can make you a simple snack if you’d like.’
‘Thanks, just a basic ham, cheese and tomato sandwich would be really good. And I’ll eat in my apartment this evening.’
‘Sure.’ She shifted a big box of decorations aside so nobody would trip over it. ‘Coming right up.’ And off she went to the kitchen.
The smile she’d given him was brighter than those lights she’d turned on and it was a little unnerving as he made his way up the stairs. He wasn’t going to do any work this evening but he needed to gather his thoughts about the idea that had struck him on his walk from the subway station to the Inn. Darcy wasn’t too much younger than him and she was bound to have friends who would be happy to go to a work function with him. If he explained the predicament he was in, that he needed a platonic escort, hopefully Darcy could help him out. She seemed an astute businesswoman, and the incentive for anyone coming along would be a top-notch menu, an all-you-can-drink liquor supply – none of it cheap – and an evening at The Plaza.
Myles let himself into his apartment but the second he did, he knew something was different. There was a smell. Not shower gel from his morning routine, not polish from the cleaner who sneaked in and out so seamlessly he would never have known had it not been for the bed being so professionally made, and it was only when he took another step so his view wasn’t obscured by the small piece of wall that jutted out with coat hooks lined up in a row that he found the source.
‘What the hell’s this?’ He glared at the Christmas tree standing there in all its glory, its towering height and majesty filling the space. A symbol of Christmas, white lights fading in and out as though mocking him and his reaction, fading to nothing but then coming back to remind him that they were very much there. An angel gloated from the top of the tree, crafted ornaments in wood, silver and white danced between candy canes dangling from branches, and there was a card tied on with a piece of silver ribbon like a decoration.
Myles stalked over to the tree, snatched the card from the branch so hard that pine needles scattered in fear all over the floor. He tore open the envelope and pulled out a card with a picture of Central Park on the front. The park was covered in snow, a winter wonderland, and when he opened it the handwritten message said, ‘May all your Christmas wishes come true.’ It was signed ‘Darcy, The Inglenook Inn’.
The frown was still on his face when a knock came from the other side of the door. Exhausted and deflated, he opened it to see Darcy herself, beaming in delight and clearly waiting for him to return the reaction. Instead he reached out, took the tray with the sandwich, muttered a thank you and said a terse goodnight.
She put a hand against the door before he had the chance to shut it properly. ‘Is everything OK?’
He glared at her. ‘I don’t need you jumping in and trying to be some kind of Cinderella.’ His tone didn’t hide his feelings. He was mad. Mad as hell.
‘Cinderella?’
‘All this.’ He cast his eye around the apartment, targeting the tree and everything littering its branches. ‘I didn’t tick the box, remember. So I don’t need you fussing around me like Cinderella, clearing up after me, making sure everything is shiny in my world.’
She looked taken aback and he knew he’d gone too far. But rather than try to sort it out and perhaps reason with her that he’d had a long day and didn’t intend to be so rude, he did what he did best and avoided trying to rectify the situation.
With a swift kick he shut the door a lot more firmly than he’d intended.
He wished it was just as easy to shut the door on the past.