A Gift to Remember (33 page)

Of course, the reason the driver accepted us was obvious as soon as we sat inside. The cab smelled like a mixture of falafel, sweaty gym socks, curry and quite possibly ferret, and appeared as
if it had not received a good cleaning in about a year and a half.

Nonetheless, beggars, choosers and all that . . .

We reached the address that Stephanie Everly had given me in just under thirty-five minutes; it was a sprawling country estate upon which sat a steep-roofed three-storey stone Beaux Arts mansion
with a view of the city skyline twenty-five miles to the south.

It immediately brought to mind the Pemberley Estate in
Pride and Prejudice
. I paid the driver and helped Bailey out of the car. Damn, I thought, looking from the Husky to the house and
back again. Definitely not a good combination. But maybe they were dog-lovers here? Estates like this usually had a couple of resident dogs ambling around somewhere.

Holding tight to Bailey’s lead, I walked up the stone steps towards the front entrance, whereupon one of a pair of heavy wooden doors opened and there, waiting for us was a woman I assumed
to be Stephanie Everly.

She wore a black pant suit that looked specifically tailored for her petite size two frame, and her shocking red hair was pulled expertly back into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck.

‘Aidan Harris?’ she asked.

‘That’s me.’

Stephanie’s gaze flickered to Bailey and she looked as if she was calculating the approximate amount of dog hair that would be left behind in the house after his departure.

Uh-oh.

‘And this is Bailey,’ I offered lamely. ‘Sorry, I came here immediately after your call and didn’t have time to—’

‘Great name.’ Much to my surprise, she gave a broad smile. ‘I grew up with Huskies. They are dreadful shedders though.’

‘Should I ask him not to do that while he’s here?’ I joked.

Stephanie gave a small laugh. ‘Between you and me, I’m a total dog person,’ she said, ‘but the lady of the house is not. Do you think he could possibly wait here in the
foyer?’ Before I could say anything, she offered further explanation. ‘It’s not that she doesn’t like dogs. She is just allergic. Terribly so. I apologise.’

I held up a hand. ‘No worries, I’m not offended, I completely understand and I don’t plan on taking up too much of your time in any case. Bailey can certainly hang back,
can’t you, boy?’ I asked my four-legged friend, who looked up at me and seeming to acquiesce, promptly took a seat on his haunches.

‘Smart,’ said Stephanie with raised eyebrows. ‘Well-trained too.’

‘Smarter than me most days,’ I said, giving him a last pat on the head.

I followed Stephanie deeper into the bowels of the luxurious home, taking in the décor. While I was used to nice surroundings, this place put the townhouse to shame.

Though many of the people I mixed with in New York these days had come into money, I could tell that the people who lived in this place had been born with it and had certifiable blue blood
coursing through their veins.

As I walked, my heels clicked on the marble floors, echoing off the walls around me. My eyes met with antique after antique. Sterling-silver frames littered tables and could be seen within the
built-in bookcases. I was able to catch a quick look at some of the pictures, and it appeared that Stephanie’s employers were definitely well-travelled, and also knew some very important
people. The proof was displayed everywhere.

However, as she guided me through a sitting room, past a formal dining room containing a table which could easily fit thirty people, and onwards into a formal library that had floor-to-ceiling
mahogany shelves and countless displays with what had to be rare manuscripts held under glass, I discovered something else.

This entire place was like a museum. It was a house, but not a home.

I thought back to the brownstone and recognised a couple of startling similarities between the two – and then I thought back to my family home in Dublin, my old house, and even some of the
apartments that I had lived in over the years. Those were homes. Those were all places where you could hang your hat, put your feet up and let your dog roam around without worrying about making a
mess.

Stephanie looked at me evenly. ‘Just to say that when it comes to such dealings it’s usually the prospective buyer who throws out a number initially. Especially when they reach out
to us first, and we haven’t advertised our intent to sell through the auction houses or some other resource.’

Ah, so that’s how this was going to go. They wanted to see just how serious I was by what I was willing to offer right off the bat.

No matter.

I nodded. ‘Understood.’

‘Nate didn’t tell me why your timeline was so tight but I can only assume delivery needs to be imminent.’ She looked sideways at me. ‘I’m aware of your company.
Thrill Seeker Holdings has an interesting reputation.’

Ah, so she was going to take this route. Call me out on the fact that she knew my needs were urgent and that the company had the tendency to splash the cash.

‘I must also admit that I’m a fan,’ she added with a quiet smile, and I glanced at her, surprised and proud of how far and wide the franchise had reached.

‘Delighted to hear it, thank you.’ I nodded. ‘But, you are right. I do need this wrapped up soon for various reasons – today, if possible.’

Stephanie considered what I had said.

‘I see. Well, I will convey any offer you might have to Miller when I speak to him later. May I assume that there will be a first bid today and you are open to negotiation?’

I wasn’t going to say more and overplay my hand.

‘I think it might be good to take a look before we get into specifics, don’t you?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said, leading me down some steps into a completely different part of the building. ‘But rest assured, Miller has extremely high standards and everything in
his collection is in impeccable condition. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ I took a small breath and thought about the leeway I had with the numbers. I knew what something like this should be worth on the open market, but this
was a completely different market altogether.

Doing the elementary math, I kept my face impassive, realising that these days I seemed to no longer have any real appreciation for money, which if I wasn’t careful could prove
dangerous.

Opening another door, Stephanie led me into a huge open space, almost hangar-like in its appearance. ‘Here we are. I moved it up to the front for you to take a better look.’ She
smiled. ‘I assume this is what you are looking for?’

Following her gaze, I took in the rows upon rows neatly lined up together, and then let out a low whistle as I finally laid eyes on my prize.

And it was perfect.

Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance
.
George Bernard Shaw

Walking brusquely with the cold wind in her face, Darcy went to meet Nate Cleaver-Parks. She’d wanted to arrange something after work or at least during her lunch-hour,
but Joshua had been insistent. ‘Are you kidding me? Go – Ash and I will hold the fort. And I want to see how this thing works out as much as anyone.’ He’d even gone so far
as to rustle up one of his famous ‘Joshua bucks’, agreeing to stay on and cover her for the later shift as he bustled her out of the door.

Darcy was just as eager to hear what the only person she’d come across so far who definitely knew Aidan had to say, so she made her way to the arranged meeting spot – Bomboloni, a
popular Upper West Side eaterie and an apparent favourite of Nate’s. Darcy had heard of the little Italian bakery but had never sampled one of its famed bomboloni – miniature light
pastry doughnuts filled with various fruit and crème flavourings.

Turning on Sixty-Ninth Street on to Columbus Avenue, she looked up and saw a sign for the place up ahead. There was plenty of outdoor seating, and despite the cold almost all of the tables were
full, the overhead heat lamps helping the bakery’s customers brave the elements.

Nearing the entrance, Darcy began scanning faces beneath the red-striped awning. While she didn’t know what Nate looked like, he’d told her on the phone that he would be wearing a
red velvet Prada jacket (though Darcy couldn’t tell Prada from JC Penney), was about six foot tall and had sandy-blond hair. She’d thought that was a pretty run-of-the-mill description,
but when she clapped eyes on Nate Cleaver-Parks, she realised that he was anything but run-of-the-mill.

In fact, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Of the male model variety.

Sitting at a table closest to the building and (thankfully) right beneath a heat lamp, he was in his mid-twenties, had a finely chiselled jaw and bright blue eyes that caught your attention,
broad muscular shoulders and the build of an athlete. She wondered if he played lacrosse for Harvard.

Nate seemed to know Darcy right off the bat; probably because she’d said she would be carrying a book. And as Nate stood up to greet her, every female in the vicinity turned to look, as if
envious that he had his sights set on her.

If only they knew.

She smiled and walked forward to say hello.

‘Darcy? Darcy Archer?’ he enquired, indicating her copy of
Pride and Prejudice
. ‘Hardly surprising you’d be carrying that book, given your name,’ he added
jokingly, and for this Darcy liked him immediately.

‘Lovely to meet you, Nate,’ she said, holding out a hand to shake his. ‘And thanks so much for taking the time to talk to me.’

‘Not a problem,’ Nate said pleasantly. ‘I was heading down this way anyhow, and seeing as you weren’t far . . .’ He held out a chair for her and Darcy sat down
right beside the window that looked into the little bakery.

Tiny inside, it was decorated with pretty Sicilian tiling and handcrafted wooden honeycomb on the ceiling, but most important was the big glass display case filled with a selection of
mouth-watering pastries.

‘Anything in particular you like?’ Nate said, following her gaze. ‘My favourite’s the Nutella and passion fruit – a strange combination but it somehow
works.’

‘I’m not sure, I’ve never actually been here,’ she admitted.

‘Ah well then, we’ll have to find you a favourite. I’ll order a mixed half-dozen,’ he said. ‘Coffee too?’

‘Tea thanks,’ she replied. A half-dozen? While the doughnuts were small they still looked like they could pack a punch, but Darcy had to admit she was interested in trying out some
of the delicious flavours Nate talked about: pistachio, tiramisu and blood orange to name but a few.

Ever the gentleman he went in to place the order, while Darcy waited outside, grateful for the warmth of the heat lamp.

‘OK, so tell me all about your friend Aidan Harris,’ he said, once they were both settled with the hot drinks and a box of fresh pastries in front of them. ‘Given that I barely
know this guy, I’m intrigued as to why you or Ashley think I can help.’

‘You barely know him?’ Darcy was disappointed. She’d hoped that Nate was a good friend or at least a business acquaintance of Aidan’s.

‘Yes. Just helped him out with a favour recently, but that’s it.’

But it was this ‘favour’ that might just hold the key to everything, Darcy thought.

She bit into a delicious honey-flavoured bomboloni and began her story, filling Nate in on everything that had happened since she’d quite literally run into Aidan a few days before, and
how the phone message Nate had left on his answering machine had led her to him today.

When she’d finished, he looked briefly past her and down the street as if considering something, and then returned his gaze to peer inquisitively at her.

‘OK, a couple of things aren’t adding up for me here.’

‘How so?’

‘I realise that you’ve since found this dancer Melanie, and that she was leaving messages on his phone too, but how do you know she’s his girlfriend?’

‘Well, I don’t know for sure,’ Darcy replied, ‘but it certainly points in that direction, doesn’t it? The first message on the answering machine, especially. She
was clearly expecting Aidan on that day – a significant day for her or the two of them even, maybe an anniversary – and then when he failed to turn up . . .’

‘But why would she be so furious with him for not turning up? Surely if she is a love interest, then shouldn’t she be
concerned
rather than angry?’

Darcy sat back in her chair. ‘I suppose that depends on how significant the occasion was.’ But he was right; all those missed calls and the venom in Melanie’s words during the
most recent call didn’t exactly suggest love’s young dream.

Especially coupled with her parting shot.

‘She did say something along the lines of how she didn’t know how Aidan could keep track or something. I’m not sure – I’d have to listen to the message
again.’ Darcy knew she wasn’t likely to get an opportunity to do that though, not with Aidan now safely ensconced in his home and once again in control of his phone messages, if not his
life.

Reminded of this, she noted the time and surreptitiously checked her phone to see if there were any missed calls from him. It was almost midday and she figured he’d be home by now. She
hoped Bailey was OK. She was missing him already.

But there was nothing.

‘Well, if she thinks he can’t keep track then maybe he can’t,’ Nate said. ‘Granted I only spoke to him once or twice, but I must admit I didn’t think he
seemed the type.’

‘Type?’

‘To have a string of women running after him.’

Darcy felt a bit nauseous at the thought. ‘Well, I guess it takes all kinds. So you think I might be wrong then about him being on his way to deliver the gift to Melanie?’

‘I really can’t say. I’m just pointing out that you can’t assume that she was the person he was on his way to meet. Heck, what’s to say he was going to meet anyone?
Maybe the guy was just taking his dog out for a walk, have you considered that?’

‘But the package . . . it’s so beautifully wrapped, very considered, and with all the mention of D-day, it has to be a gift for . . .’Then Darcy remembered why she was here
with Nate in the first place. ‘In your message to Aidan you said something like you hoped he got what he needed before the Big Day. Were you involved in that somehow? Arranging the gift, I
mean?’