A Gift to Remember (15 page)

The blinds were pink, the sofa cushions were pink, the lights on the white plastic tree were pink, and from every branch hung pink-coloured decorations.

Bailey danced around her legs, whining and yowling, and Darcy was relieved that she finally had some decent food to feed him with.

‘Here you go, boy,’ she said, as she slipped him one of the rust-coloured dog biscuits she’d picked up for him at Aidan’s house. He jumped up and snatched it from her
hand, retreating to Mrs Henley’s satiny pink tree skirt to nibble it gently between his big paws.

The older woman emerged from the kitchenette, a tea tray in hand. A conspicuously white tray, Darcy saw, and not a sign of pink in sight but no, there it was . . . the cocktail napkins.

‘I am so sorry,’ she apologised for the sixth time since heading straight to the apartment after leaving Aidan’s house. ‘And thank you, but you really shouldn’t
have gone to so much trouble.’

The old woman set the tray on her coffee table, and settled onto her pink couch. ‘Don’t mention it – it’s no trouble at all,’ she purred, a truly different woman to
the one Darcy thought she knew. She turned her eyes to Bailey, curled beneath the blinking pink Christmas tree. ‘We had a lovely day, didn’t we, boy? I took him over to Hudson Park for
a nice long walk by the river, and on the way back we stopped off for a couple of hot dogs,’ she told Darcy. ‘My treat, but very definitely Bailey’s idea. He got very excited when
he came across the vendor’s cart, didn’t you, darling?’

Bailey looked up and lazily wagged his tail before resting his head on his white paws, looking from Mrs Henley to Darcy and back again.

‘Like I said, I really can’t thank you enough,’ Darcy enthused, as the older woman handed her a cup of coffee so black she could see her reflection in the rippling surface.
Thoughtfully, she had added several butter cookies to the saucer.

Darcy sipped the coffee, hiding a wince as the first taste of instant hit the back of her throat. Mrs Henley must have spooned in twice the recommended dosage for each cup. Darcy wasn’t a
huge coffee fan, more of a latte/cappuccino person if she had it at all, but at the same time it was hot and warming. And as Darcy still hadn’t had dinner and was starving, she quickly made
the four thick butter cookies disappear.

She sat back in the comfy chair across from her neighbour and sighed. It felt like the first time she’d sat down all day. ‘Are you all right, dear?’ Mrs Henley asked.

Darcy nodded serenely. ‘Just tired, I guess.’

The other woman leaned over and poured more coffee into her cup. ‘Then you need some more of my special brew.’

Darcy chuckled and leaned over to accept the top-up. ‘Nice tree,’ she said, trying to get a better look at the pastel decorations.

‘Thank you, don’t you just love it?’ Mrs Henley set the pot down on the tray and sat back, her pink housecoat soft, her pink slippers fluffy. She shivered to herself with
pleasure.

‘Er yes,’ Darcy hedged. ‘What’s hanging on them? Are those decorations . . . shoes?’ she asked, finally recognising the shapes.

Clearly shoes were to Mrs Henley what books were to her. Another revelation about her neighbour, who kept on surprising her.

The old woman wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. ‘Ballet slippers, of course. I was a ballerina a long, long time ago. I even danced at the Lincoln Centre once. What a rush it was . .
.’

‘Wow, that’s amazing, Mrs Henley. I had no idea.’ But how would Darcy know something like that about her neighbour when this was the first time she’d even been inside her
home? ‘It must have been wonderful.’

‘I keep telling you, call me Grace. Yes, it was – incredible actually, but like I said, it was a long time ago.’ Her eyes grew misty as she seemed to stare beyond the tree and
right into the past.

Her mood had turned contemplative, and still feeling as if she didn’t know the woman well enough to press for more details, Darcy stood up, gently patting her leg for Bailey to follow.
Time to go.

His head perked up, and having been nearly snoozing a moment earlier, he suddenly shot out from under the tree like a missile and stood by her side.

‘Leaving so soon?’ Grace asked, but her voice was tired and as she struggled to get up, Darcy shooed her back down.

‘Please, no need to see me out. We’ve taken up enough of your time as it is and I’m sure Bailey has you worn out.’

Grace sat back down and smiled. Bailey, tail wagging happily, shuffled over once more and licked her hand before darting back to Darcy. ‘We did have a nice day, didn’t we, boy? Same
time tomorrow?’ she asked, eyes glinting and hopeful as she looked up at Darcy.

‘Seriously?’ Darcy was taken aback. She was on the late shift at Chaucer’s the following day, which meant she didn’t need to be in until midday, but she was anxious to
head back to the hospital to give Aidan his things as soon as possible; if Grace was willing, she would be able to do so in the morning. Her neighbour’s surprising kindness was turning out to
be the answer to her prayers.

‘That would be great, thank you. I really appreciate it.’

She picked up the red leather leash on the way out and made sure to fasten Bailey to it before letting herself out – otherwise he could go skittering down the stairs and at this point
Darcy definitely didn’t have the energy for a game of chase. ‘You really are a lifesaver. I don’t know how to thank you . . .’ she continued, saying goodbye, but the rest of
her sentence trailed off when Grace’s snores met her in reply.

Waking early the next morning, Darcy realised that even though she still felt sore from the accident, she also felt properly rested and refreshed. And for the first time in a
while, she’d woken up without an alarm clock interrupting her dreams.

Instead, she was greeted with a kiss by the male with whom she was sharing a bed. The first member of the opposite gender who had shared her bed in quite some time, she thought wryly, opening
her eyes.

OK, so what if it was a dog.

Katherine was right; her current dating dry spell was lasting a little longer than she’d thought. It wasn’t for the lack of trying – on both Darcy’s and her aunt’s
part – and there were a few guys who’d initially set her pulse racing, but she had yet to meet a man with whom she connected –
really
connected – on an intellectual
as well as emotional level. So much so that he could occupy her thoughts night and day and she would count the hours until they were together again. Ultimately, if you didn’t have that, what
was the point? Darcy had long since decided that she wasn’t going to settle for second best. She supposed she and her aunt were alike in that way at least. Katherine had never married, and
while Darcy recalled her aunt bringing home the occasional suitor to the Brooklyn condo for dinner over the years, she’d got the impression that these guys were always somewhat taken aback by
her presence there, and the revelation that Katherine was to all intents and purposes a single mother. Darcy often worried that she was the reason her aunt had never settled down, and this was why
she had resolved to get out from beneath her aunt’s feet as soon as she possibly could.

She turned over to find Bailey breathing doggie fumes in her face. She let out a giggle as he licked her cheek and she scratched behind his ears. ‘Did you know that you are kind of a bed
hog?’

Bailey sighed, as if to say, ‘Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Tell me something I don’t know.’

‘Well, unfortunately, I don’t have a California King like your owner; therefore until we get you back home, you are going to have to learn how to share a little better.
OK?’

She sat up in bed and allowed Bailey to lay his heavy head in her lap as she rubbed him under his chin, thinking she could easily get used to having a housemate like this.

‘You know, Bailey, I haven’t been around a dog like this since I was a kid.’

He looked up at her with his big blue eyes as if suddenly interested in what she was saying and she smiled. ‘Having you here makes me realise how much I miss it.’

Darcy allowed herself to reminisce about the black and white Cocker Spaniel that she’d had as a child. Timmy (named after the canine star in the
Famous Five
books) had been a
great dog, and Darcy used to devotedly follow the little animal around the family house in Brooklyn.

Having Bailey here brought all of this back – but in a good way.

Darcy quickly ate breakfast, this time giving Bailey a huge helping of his fancy dog food. In truth, it looked and smelled so appetising that Darcy was almost tempted to give it a go herself.
But she wasn’t quite that desperate.

Having brought him outside to do his business, she dropped Bailey off at Grace’s apartment once again, then got back on the bike and headed straight to Roosevelt General.

Entering the hospital room, she once again felt hesitant, unsure of the specifics of Aidan’s condition and wondering for a moment if he might since have forgotten her. But those worries
were assuaged when he looked up, immediately brightened by her arrival, and greeted her with a smile that made her stomach do a tiny somersault. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she
asked him. She could see that half the tubes and vials and dials and plugs that had been attached to him the night before were gone.

‘Right as rain, apart from the obvious.’ He knocked pointedly on the top of his head. ‘Thanks for coming in, I really appreciate it. How’s Bailey? I hope you found the
dog food OK?’

She guessed he was forcing himself to make small talk, and was no doubt much more anxious to hear what else she might have found at his house the night before.

Darcy was still thinking about his home and all the treasures within, and had spent hours last night analysing the kind of person he must be. In truth, Aidan Harris’s life – or at
least the way he lived it – was as intriguing as the first few pages of a good novel, and Darcy knew she wanted to read on in the hope of finding out more. The fact that he also looked like
he could have walked out of the pages of such a novel helped too.

But like all heroes in fiction, his perfect other half was also out there somewhere. Darcy just had to try and put the pieces together and help him find her.

Giving him a brief description of the layout and contents of his house, she waited for a reaction, some spark of recognition. But there was nothing.

She then handed him the framed photo of him and the redhead on the ski slope, as well as the picture of the blonde she’d found in his bedside drawer.

‘Ring any bells?’

He studied both pictures for a long time, but by his expression she knew that he was still drawing a blank. ‘Sorry, no. I don’t recognise anyone in these.’

‘No need to apologise to me.’ Still, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Clearly, shaking off the memory loss might not be as straightforward as they’d first
thought.

Darcy then took out the holiday photographs she’d brought with her; the scuba diving and sky-diving shots. Again he studied them both closely, but after a while shook his head once again.
‘Nothing. It’s like I’m looking at somebody else’s photographs. I really don’t remember doing anything like this ever.’ His expression was strained, the
disappointment painfully evident, and Darcy tried to cheer him up by telling him how amazing his house was and what he had to look forward to when he did go home. ‘You have a Rothko in your
hallway – a
Rothko
,’ she repeated reverently. ‘Can you maybe remember where or even why you got that? A landmark occasion maybe? Something major in relation to your job,
or your work? A big promotion or securing a major account or . . .’

She had no idea what sort of promotion would enable someone to suddenly decide to buy such an expensive painting but this was his world, not hers, so she had to try and put herself in his
shoes.

And what a world it must be. The kind of wonderful, privileged New York society lifestyle that so many people dreamed about when first coming to the city. Where the streets really were paved
with gold. Darcy had tasted just a fraction of it last night in Aidan’s house, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like from day to day. To think that you could
afford to dine in the best restaurants, were likely to be known by name in the fanciest hotels, and invited to incredible parties held in the most prestigious buildings . . .

It reminded her of one time when she’d met up with Katherine in the Plaza for impromptu drinks. It was a foggy evening around Christmastime and the two of them had sat in the opulent
lounge by the window in ornate brocade chairs looking out at the horse-drawn carriages waiting outside a snow-covered Central Park while a white-gloved waiter had served them the finest champagne
beneath crystal chandeliers. From that vantage point, it was as if modern life had retreated, and for Darcy it was almost like going back in time, straight into the pages of an Edith Wharton novel,
witnessing what old New York might have looked like, back in the early 1800s.

But once she’d explained about the painting, again Aidan heaved a sigh, telling her, ‘I really have no idea.’

The poor guy looked so lost and dejected that Darcy wanted to reach over and give him a hug. But of course it wasn’t her place to do so, and this immediately reminded her of the message on
the answering machine. She then went on to recount the message word for word from her notes, watching carefully as he listened to the words.

Nothing.

‘Someone is definitely missing you in any case, which is good to know,’ she assured him, going on to explain about the other missed call and accompanying number. ‘I guess
it’s only a matter of time before your girlfriend, or whoever she is, shows up here. But in the meantime, do you want to call that 212 number, just in case that too might be someone
important?’

Aidan looked even more frustrated. ‘Well, I would if I had a bloody phone.’ He reached towards his bedside locker and took out an iPhone. Even at this distance Darcy could tell that
the screen had been smashed to pieces. Ah, so at least that answered her query about why he hadn’t been picking up messages on his cell phone.