A Gift to Remember (23 page)

I scrolled aimlessly through the recent posts of friends and some family, and immediately spotted the recent check-in at Hong Kong International. Then I smiled when I saw a check-in at
Macy’s from Mel with the comment
Shopping till I drop
. Feeling like an idiot, I gave both statuses a thumbs-up and signed off.

Maybe some time away from this desk and the house would do me good.

Maybe I could meet up with Mel for a coffee, or a late lunch? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sent her a text. She quickly replied, reporting that she was with a friend but that lunch
would be great.

Excellent. I sighed and reached under the desk.

‘Come on, boy,’ I said to Bailey. ‘Time for a walk. I need to stretch my legs and I am sure you do, too. How does a ramble to midtown sound?’

Bailey certainly didn’t need to be asked twice. He jumped up from under the desk and left the room ahead of me in a hurry. Like any semi-literate dog, he knew the word ‘walk’
– probably even knew how to spell it.

I shut my laptop and opened the desk drawer, putting George’s list in its folder and placed it inside. Then reaching under the desk blotter I extracted the key and locked the drawer.

Slightly over-cautious perhaps, but at the same time, I was respecting Nate Jr’s request to be careful with such information.

I replaced the key under the blotter, thinking that if I truly felt there was anything to worry about I should just take the key with me. But a person would have to be really searching to look
under the blotter and I had a feeling if this place was going to be burgled, the culprit was undoubtedly much more likely to go for the Rothko by the front door instead of dillydallying around a
boring office, looking for a key to a desk drawer.

So off Bailey and I headed to Thirty-Fourth Street. Fitting perhaps, as I was definitely in need of a miracle.

The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.
Socrates

Darcy closed her eyes as the wind swirled around her skirts and birds sang overhead. It was as if all of nature understood that
this
was a magic moment and was
required to set the scene appropriately. The smell of lavender filled her nose.

Yes
, she realised. This time it really was going to happen.

She took a deep breath and hoped secretly that her face was elegantly flushed in a ladylike way, rather than looking like she was suffering from an extended bout of heat rash. Despite her
somewhat olive complexion, at times she could seem downright ruddy. Especially during moments like this.

Don’t think about that now
, her subconscious chided her.
Think about the man in front of you
.

Darcy opened her eyes briefly to see him leaning forward. There was something different about the way he looked today, but for some reason she couldn’t place exactly what it was. Before
she could ponder the difference any further, he leaned in closer to her. They were so close now, the kiss was inevitable. She just knew it. Her lips moved to meet his and as they did so she heard a
sound come from his mouth. Some kind of amorous murmur or passionate sigh or . . . wait a minute, was that a
growl
?

Waking suddenly, Darcy sat up in bed and strained her ears, listening for the sound again. After a beat, she heard it a second time and decided that yes, it was very definitely a growl, but not
a hostile or threatening one. She got out of bed and went to look for Bailey, wondering why he wasn’t sprawled in his usual spot at the bottom of her bed. What was he up to?

Going into the living room, she saw the big dog lying flat on the ground in front of the TV, his attention fixed on something between his paws. Something, Darcy realised with a sinking heart,
that he seemed to be munching on.

While Aidan’s dog was for the most part dignified and well-behaved, in the few days Bailey had been her house-guest she’d come to learn that when bored, his breed liked to entertain
themselves by chewing on whatever random item came their way. He’d tried on numerous occasions to snatch Darcy’s little homemade books down from the Christmas tree, to say nothing of
their real-life counterparts on the shelves, and she’d had to move her book piles to loftier locations like the top of her closet or stuff them inside so as to keep them out of reach of
prying paws. And as it was no longer safe to leave a book on her nightstand, she’d taken to placing them under her pillow for ‘safe-keeping’.

But what had he managed to purloin this time?

Creeping up slowly behind him in her bare feet, Darcy got a glimpse of something long and metallic between his paws, and relaxed a little, since whatever he was gnawing on, at least it
wasn’t one of her treasured books. But what
was
it? Bailey gave another growl of satisfaction and she bent down, trying to get a better look at what was keeping him so happily
engrossed.

And then, when Darcy caught sight of the object’s goldcoloured twin, tossed carelessly beside him on the rug, she understood. ‘Bailey!’ she gasped, her heart going to her mouth
as she wrenched a shoe from his grasp. But not just any old shoe, oh no – it had to be from the most expensive pair in her closet or indeed, the priciest items in her entire apartment –
the Jimmy Choos!

He must have swiped them from the closet earlier. Darcy realised she’d stupidly left it open last night. The Neiman Marcus sticker was still attached to the sole, or what was left of it,
she thought, horrified by the piercing toothmarks all over the metallic gold leather. The four inch heel was almost completely gnawed through and the ankle strap was in pieces. And as for the dust
bag . . .

Darcy stared at the ruined designer shoe, but when she looked back at Bailey, tail wagging, blue eyes shining innocently and tongue lolling happily, she couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I suppose I should be glad somebody’s getting pleasure out of them,’ she giggled, knowing that she was unlikely to have ever had occasion to wear the shoes in any case.
‘But it’s probably best to keep this between ourselves for now, OK?’ she whispered conspiratorially. ‘I have an inkling Katherine wouldn’t appreciate her generous gift
being used as a doggie toy.’

The Husky gave another joyous wag of his tail, and as Darcy cleaned up the mess she couldn’t help but muse that you could take the dog out of the Upper West Side, but evidently
couldn’t take the Upper West Side out of the dog. The mutt had taste.

Afterwards, having made sure there was nothing else in range for Bailey to turn his attentions to, she stepped into the shower, readying herself for the day ahead and thinking about how she was
going to spend her time. First up she needed to pay Aidan a visit at the hospital, she mused. Putting her head under the spray, she ran her fingers through her hair and allowed her thoughts to
revert to that morning’s dream.

She recalled the moment she had run her fingers through Mr Rochester’s hair as he bent low to kiss her and how something had been confusing.

Over the years, Darcy had had countless dreams that featured Edward Fairfax Rochester, and during that time, he had always looked the way her mind’s eye had pictured him and had always
spoken with a clipped English accent. Tall, dark, handsome and absolutely polished . . . he looked the way that a Regency gentleman should – clad in a distinguished cravat, waistcoat and
breeches. However, this dream had been different.
He
had been different.

‘Oh,’ she said, reddening a little, as understanding dawned. She bit her lip and stood limply in the shower as she worked to come to terms with what her subconscious had done to her
dream.

It seemed her subconscious thought it would be interesting to give Mr Rochester a faint Irish accent. And have him bear a rather close resemblance to the man she was about to visit in
hospital.

‘Thrill Seeker Holdings means nothing to you at all? Are you sure?’

Darcy was back at the hospital by Aidan’s bedside. She couldn’t help but remember Katherine’s reference to her last night as a ‘nursemaid’ and felt slightly
embarrassed by the notion. To say nothing of that morning’s dream.

She was still a little confused by that and certainly hoped Aidan Harris didn’t think she had any designs on him, or was helping him out of anything other than the goodness of her heart.
That and guilt, of course – and no small measure of curiosity.

Especially about the gift.

He was sitting up when she walked in, flipping through the usual Christmas movies,
A Wonderful Life
,
Holiday Inn and A Christmas Story
on nearly every channel at this time of
year. When he saw her, he turned the set off.

‘Hey there.’ His voice was still hoarse, but not as much as last time.

‘Me again,’ Darcy greeted him shyly. ‘I hope you still remember me?’

He chuckled, laying his hands on top of the blanket. ‘Of course I do.’

Tiny butterflies danced in her stomach. ‘So how are you feeling today?’ she asked. ‘Any improvement at all?’

He thought for a moment. ‘No, it’s all still a blank. But the doctor says it should improve as time goes on.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Not really,’ he replied, throwing the remote control across the bed in frustration. ‘It’s been three days already. How long do I have to wait? It could be weeks –
months even, until things get straightened out. In the meantime, I’m still stuck in this dump.’

Darcy looked at the ground. ‘I’m sorry – I really wish there was more I could do.’ She sensed that he was used to being on the go all the time. The thought reminded her
of the company, and its thus-far elusive information.

‘I’m sorry. Ah shit, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,’ Aidan added then, looking chagrined. ‘God knows, you’ve done more than enough, and gone miles out of
your way already to help me.’ He gave her a broad smile, and his eyes twinkled. ‘I’ve been trying to think of a way to thank you, actually. I’m not sure if you’re a
ballet fan, but . . .’ He took his wallet out of the bedside locker and opened it. ‘Remember I told you I had these?’ Aidan held up two tickets and she recalled him mentioning
something about tickets for the theatre before. ‘Well, I had a proper look and they’re actually for the New York City Ballet.’ He shrugged. ‘Again, it beats me why I’d
have them, but seeing as I do and the performance is tomorrow night . . .’ He looked at her, and for one brief moment Darcy’s heart almost stopped as she thought he was about to ask her
out. Then she remembered where they were. Or more to the point, where Aidan needed to stay. ‘Like I said,’ he continued, ‘I’m not sure if the ballet is your thing, but maybe
you’d like to give these to a friend?’

All of sudden, Darcy pictured Mrs Henley’s pink and white Christmas tree. She didn’t know the first thing about ballet, so probably wasn’t the best person to appreciate the
gesture, but was sure that Grace would. And wouldn’t it be the perfect way to thank her for all her help in taking care of Bailey over the last few days?

‘Thank you, that’s really very kind of you.’ Taking the tickets from Aidan, she glanced down at the details. ‘The Koch Theater. I’m never been there; I’ve
heard it’s beautiful though.’

‘I guess so, I couldn’t tell you.’ Aidan shrugged again, as if such cluelessness was becoming the norm for him. Which of course it was. ‘You’ll take them
then?’ he urged and she nodded. ‘Good. Like I said, I really appreciate all you’ve been doing. You’re a lifesaver, Darcy.’

Well, at least he seemed calmer and a little less frustrated than he had been, Darcy thought. Granted, she might not have been able to find something or someone to help him just yet, but she was
sure it was only a matter of time before she did.

In the meantime, she had to admit that she was enjoying the journey. It was a long time since she’d been on an adventure – a quest of her own instead of vicariously experiencing such
escapades through the pages of a story – and she wanted to make the most of this opportunity to take a brief glimpse into another person’s considerably more exciting life.

‘I also found this in my wallet – I forgot to show you the other day.’ He held out a small photograph, creased from being folded, and Darcy wondered if the person in it might
be the same as one of the others at his house. But it was soon obvious that this was different altogether.

Shot in black and white, it was a picture of a young woman obviously taken a long time ago – possibly during the 1960s, to judge by the fashion. Darcy smiled at the classic beauty of the
woman and the way she posed so elegantly, sitting with a full skirt laid out around her that would likely have been a light pastel colour, her bow-shaped lips sharing a secret smile with the
camera.

‘It’s my mother,’ Aidan said, and Darcy looked at him, heartened.

‘Well, that’s wonderful!’ she exclaimed happily. ‘If you remember her, it means that things are starting to come back, doesn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily. I know it’s my mother and I also know she’s dead, but that’s about it.’ His tone was glum once again. How awful that this sad memory was the only
thing that stood out for him. And she wondered then if he had perhaps lost his father too, and if so, then clearly they had that much in common, if nothing else. Both were all alone in the
world.

The fact that Aidan carried such a beautiful picture of his mother around with him merely made her like him all the more. She watched him closely as he put it back into the wallet, a strange
expression on his face.

Hoping to move on to happier things, she picked up her messenger bag and carefully withdrew the gift box, as well as a shopping bag from Verizon. ‘I just picked you up a prepaid phone on
the way, and this is the package I was talking about before, the one you were carrying before I hit you.’

Aidan studied it for a moment, but the package, much like the company name, clearly meant absolutely nothing to him, and he seemed much more interested in the phone.

‘Maybe you should open it?’ she suggested, trying not to betray her anticipation. But perhaps he wanted to do that in private. Darcy hoped not, as she really wanted to know what was
inside. What had he intended to give to the person he was supposed to meet that day?