The Charm Bracelet (18 page)

‘Oh excuse me, sorry about that, are you OK?’ said Gregario in a very non-Italian-sounding
New York accent. His dark gaze met hers and he smiled kindly, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead.

Holly smiled absently. ‘Yes, I’m sure my nose will recover,’ she joked. Anyway, excuse me, I was just leaving.’ She turned to Gennaro. ‘Thanks again Gennaro. I look forward to hearing from
Sofia. You too.’

‘Ciao Holly,’ Gennaro called over her shoulder. ‘Until we meet again.’

Holly exited onto the street, just as her cell phone rang.

‘Hello, is that Holly?’ a crisp voice said on the other end of the line.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘It’s Jessica, Margot Mead’s assistant. I have some information for you regarding the
jewelled egg charm. Is this a good time?’

Yes
, Holly thought happily,
right now is a
great
time
.

‘Gregorio! What’s up my man!’ laughed Gennaro as he welcomed his friend to his gallery.

Greg smiled fondly at the nickname that Gennaro had given him, and continued to use, since they first met a year or so ago.

‘Hanging in there, man. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,’ he asked, looking back at the door through which the young woman had just exited. ‘She ran off pretty quick.’

Gennaro waved a hand. ‘Not a problem. It wasn’t that big of a deal.’ He took another glance at the business card he was holding and threw it on the reception desk. ‘Pretty little thing though.’

Greg shook his head; it was so like Gennaro to mix work and pleasure. He was the epitome of a ladies’ man.

‘Interested buyer?’ Greg asked.

‘No, no, nothing like that. Some great duck hunt that she was on, like a scavenger in my opinion. Looking to return a lost bracelet to some artist. She thinks the artist is a woman I might have done some business with.’

Greg laughed at Gennaro’s use of English colloquialisms. ‘It’s a wild goose chase, not a great duck hunt.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Never mind.’

‘Sadly, she wasn’t interested in a thing on these walls, can you believe that? Only interested in finding the owner of this bracelet that she had. I might have to give her a call to help her on her quest, you know? Maybe, just maybe, I can get her to dinner, and then maybe she will be interested in something else, yes?’ Gennaro wiggled his eyebrows, leaving little wonder about what the ‘something else’ could be. ‘Speaking of women, how is the beautiful Karen?’

‘Actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Your lovely girlfriend?
Fantastico
, I’m all ears. I would be happy to take her off your hands.’

‘No, not like that,’ Greg laughed. ‘Actually, I just popped by to let you know that I quit my job at the firm. I’m going full time with the photography. I’m hoping to sell some more of my work because I’m planning on proposing to Karen soon, and well, I feel I need to provide her with something that boosts her confidence in my decision, especially if she is going to say yes.’

Gennaro shook his head, seemingly not following how the two factors tied together.

‘I don’t understand. How does your proposal coincide with you selling your work?’

Greg quickly explained that he had sprung his decision to quit the firm and start up his own photography business on Karen. And that things had been a little tense around the old
casa
as of late.

‘I am planning on proposing very soon, but I just want to prove to her that I’m already making a go of things with my new career.’

Gennaro frowned again. ‘You know, my father, when he opened his store, he did so with very little money. He took a chance, but my mother always stood by him. To the very end she did.’ Gennaro seemed to cringe when he saw Greg’s face fall, and immediately realised his bad choice of words. ‘Ah, buddy, I’m so sorry. I heard about your mother … I’m so sorry.’

Greg smiled sadly. ‘Thanks,
I won’t deny it’s been hard but … , I guess you just need to come up with coping mechanisms.’

‘You Americans with your coping mechanisms,’ Gennaro smiled. ‘No, what I meant just then was that your parents had a wonderful love story. My parents had a wonderful love story. I hope that your love story with Karen isn’t just based on some photographs.’

‘I’m sure everything will be fine,’ Greg replied, feeling a little uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to find out if you were in the market for anything new?’ He indicated the walls of the gallery.

Gennaro shrugged despondently. ‘Ah Gregorio, my friend. I’m not buying anything right now. In this economy, it’s been slow, especially for the holidays. I have stockpiles of work in the backroom that I have yet to display.’

Greg sighed and looked around at the art that graced almost every surface of the gallery. ‘Of course I understand. But, hey, thanks for hearing me out – and if you do need anything along those lines, keep me in mind, won’t you?’

Gennaro seemed to be thinking. ‘Well, I can’t promise anything, but why don’t you email me some files and maybe we can do something together for the next gallery event in the New Year. Speaking of which, are you going to the benefit this year?’

He was referring to the annual New Year’s ball held in aid of St Jude’s Children’s Hospital, a big society event that Greg and his family usually supported with their attendance.

Greg sighed. He hadn’t really thought about it. ‘I’m not sure … maybe. We’ve had the tickets for ages of course so … I think it might feel odd going now, with everything. Will you be there?’

Gennaro nodded in confirmation. ‘Yes, although I need to get a date for the night.’

Greg laughed. ‘That’s not like you. Less than a couple of weeks before an event and no date? You’re slacking, man.’

‘Please, you know me better than that,’ Gennaro replied with a wink. ‘I have a waiting list.’ He looked towards the door. ‘Although perhaps I will overlook the list and aim for someone new, like my pretty friend who just left.’

Greg sighed indulgently at his friend’s antics, and felt grateful that he was no longer in the dating game. He knew Gennaro was telling the truth; the man regularly had several women hanging around, vying for his attention.

‘Well, good luck with it anyway. And thanks again for agreeing to check out my work. But now I’d better get going; I’m doing a few bits and pieces for the
NYT
and I have to follow through. I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Gennaro.’ He offered his hand and Gennaro took it, pulling him forward into a bear hug.

‘You too Gregorio. And good luck with Karen. She’s a beautiful woman. And I’ll bet she has been hinting about a ring for quite some time, eh?’

Greg shook his head. Actually Karen wasn’t in the least bit pressurising in that regard. While she adored jewellery, she didn’t get sappy about engagement rings, and he’d never once heard her use the words ‘princess cut’.

‘Really? Then she clearly isn’t Italian,’ Gennaro chuckled. ‘Italian women like to know your intentions on date number one. No messing around wasting time, you know? That’s why I adore Italian women, but I do not date them.’ He smiled wickedly. ‘At least, not after the first night.’ He clapped Greg on the back. ‘You are a lucky man to have such a level-headed woman.’

Greg smiled and said goodbye to his friend, but Gennaro’s words had struck a chord.

It was true; Karen really wasn’t the type of woman to buy pre-emptive bridal magazines or squeal over the news of a friend’s engagement.

He thought about his mother, and how Cristina always rejoiced over weddings, baby showers and occasions like that. Sure, he understood that all women weren’t the same, and he certainly wasn’t trying to compare Karen to his mom, but he was struggling to remember if he had ever seen Karen show excitement over the life events of her friends. There was no denying his girlfriend had passion, of course, but the things she got excited about were often holidays they were taking, or a deal she had just closed at work, or even her ability to score some in-demand purse at Louise Vuitton.

In any case, Greg hoped she’d be suitably passionate about how he was planning to propose. The idea had struck him out of the blue that morning, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised it was absolutely perfect for Karen.

              Getting back on the bike, he made his way back uptown to put the early stages of his plan in place.

A few minutes later, as he walked to the elevator in the
New York Times
building, he made eye contact with every single person and smiled. He'd have to start memorising faces and names soon.

When he got to Rob’s office, his friend high-fived him before saying anything else.

‘Way to go, man, Billy told me the good news. Lunch – and maybe with a celebratory beer?’

‘Sound good.’

‘Have you got an assignment already?’

Greg nodded.

‘Who's the writer?’

‘Suzanne Lee.’

Rob made a face ‘OK, you'll need definitely a beer. She's a little … demanding.’

Greg laughed. ‘Tell me about it.’

The two men strolled out of the office and out onto the street.

‘Wanna go where all the
NYT
people go?’ Rob asked.

‘That would be cool,’ he replied enthusiastically.

‘Then go back inside and order out,’ he joked, before leading Greg down the street to a diner where half the menu was in Russian.

Their elderly waitress took a long time to take their orders, but Rob and Greg didn't care, they were marvelling over the fact that after knowing each other for so long they would now be working for the same company.

‘I can request you, you know.’ Rob told him. ‘So if things get light, let me know.’

Greg nodded, digging into a beet soup. It was stone cold and made absolutely no sense on such a frigid day. He had only ordered it because the old lady had barked ‘beet soup?’ at him and he had nodded, afraid to contradict her. He was hungry, but food was far from his mind.

The men ate in an enjoyable silence for a while, until Greg finally broke it when the beers arrived. ‘I feel bad asking, seeing as you’ve already done so much, but do you think you could check something out for me?’

Rob nodded uncertainly and listened as Greg outlined his request.

When he’d finished, his friend looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘You’re sure about this?’

Greg stiffened. ‘What – the proposal or the favour?’

‘Well … the favour of course. I’ve got to tell you, Christmas morning could be a little tricky, but I’ll certainly ask. Will’s a buddy – he might OK it.’

‘Thanks man, I owe you a lot.’

‘You sure do.’ Rob took a swig of his coffee. ‘So you really think Karen’s the one?’

‘I know it.’

‘How is she feeling about the big lifestyle change?’ he asked carefully. ‘Shit-hot broker to lowly shutterbug?’

Greg let out a breath. ‘It’s been hard on her, I know that. But we'll get through it. There are worse things,’ he added, thinking of what his poor dad had been dealing with.

Definitely worse things.

Outside the gallery, Holly fumbled with her phone for a moment as she juggled her handbag. She pulled her coat tighter around her as a brisk arctic blast of air hit her in the face.

‘I’m sorry, Jessica, I’m here. Sorry, juggling a bit, this weather is pretty rough today.’ Holly smiled into the phone, just as another torrent of wind flung a strand of hair in her mouth. ‘
Eck, OK, out of the wind now.’ She moved into a doorway that provided a small bit of shelter.

‘No problem,’ Margot Mead’s assistant said. ‘I’ve been in the penthouse since six a.m. Most times I can barely remember what sunlight is.’

Holly bit her lip, thinking that working for a woman like that was probably no easy task. She was already picturing Jessica as one of those twenty-two year olds who wore black from head to toe, invested in spray tans and had bleach-blonde hair.

She probably bought expensive Christian Louboutin heels with her below-average pay-cheque, and chose to eat Ramen noodles in her tiny apartment. All just so she could keep up with appearances. But then again, that was the life of a young, trendy New Yorker who was probably desperate to break into the upper echelons of the city.

‘Well, I hope you get out soon. The winter weather is rather lovely, so long as the wind doesn’t blow you over. Days like today remind me of a snow globe. From the outside everything looks fine, then you shake it and it all gets jumbled up.’

There was silence on the other end of the line, as if Jessica was thinking about the analogy. When she finally answered, she said, ‘Huh, I guess I’m more of a beach girl.’

Of course she was
, Holly thought with a smile. Quickly, she changed the subject.

‘So you were calling about the egg charm. What can you tell me?’