Something From Tiffany’s (3 page)

For all the good it did her, he thought, but lately some of that seemed to be coming through in Daisy. Then again she was an eight-year-old girl who had posters of princesses and unicorns all over her bedroom walls, so he supposed this was normal enough.

In any case, Ethan was relieved to discover this more imaginative side of his daughter; since her mother’s untimely loss, she could sometimes be a solemn, fretful little girl, prone to worrying about the slightest thing.

‘Ah.’ The man nodded, as if understanding. He hunkered down to Daisy’s height. ‘Well yes, this
is
a special place, and as you can see, there’s lots of romance happening right here at this very moment.’ He indicated the other customers, all enclosed in their own starry-eyed bubble. ‘And I must admit I myself have experienced a few magical moments throughout my time here. Like meeting you today, for instance, young lady,’ he added with a wink and Daisy blushed happily.

Ethan looked on, his heart soaring at the sight of his little girl’s smile.

Then, when the all-important package was nestled safely in the small robin’s-egg-blue bag, and the assistant handed Ethan his purchase, Daisy beat him to the punch and grabbed the soft handles herself. ‘Can I carry it?’ she asked, staring at the bag as if it contained something rare and precious.

Which indeed it did.

‘Of course you can.’ Ethan was beaming as he put the accompanying documentation into his jacket pocket. He couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction, and felt more certain than ever that he, Vanessa and Daisy being together in New York was merely the first step on the wonderful journey they all had ahead of them.

Then, taking his daughter’s hand, he wished the friendly Tiffany’s assistant a merry Christmas and he and Daisy headed back outside to rejoin the crowds on Fifth Avenue.

Chapter 2

‘Hey there, gorgeous, what’s up?’ Gary Knowles said, answering his mobile from inside the changing room at the Bergdorf Goodman men’s store. He placed the handset between his cheek and shoulder so he could have both hands free to carry on with what he was doing.

Turning sideways he threw back his shoulders to size himself up in the Ralph Lauren shirt he was trying on, and smiled at his reflection in the dressing-room mirror. ‘Yep . . . glad you’re enjoying it,’ he continued absently, turning his head to get a better look at his back, at the way the tapering shirt fitted his torso. ‘Hmm? Yeah, just finishing up now.’

Nodding approvingly at himself in the mirror, Gary brushed aside some strands of sandy blond hair (tinged with just enough peroxide to give him an up-to-the-minute edge) and figured that this shirt was another definite. ‘Shouldn’t be too much longer. Why don’t you go ahead and get yourself ready for tonight,’ he suggested, ‘and I’ll meet you back at the hotel later? Can’t say for sure . . . round about seven, maybe? I still have a couple of things to do here.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘What, you’ve got all yours done already? Not bad – and for a girl too!’ Laughing at his joke, he slipped out of the shirt and now studied his bare chest. His six-pack looked especially impressive in this light, he reflected. Shame nobody else could see it. ‘Grand. I’ll see you there then? Yup . . . me too.’

With that Gary ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. Then he put his own clothes back on, grabbed the pile of bags at his feet and headed back out in the direction of the cashier’s desk.

He was soaking up every minute in the Big Apple. It was a trip he had wanted to take for years, but for some reason he had never got round to it. And now that business was so slack these days he couldn’t really justify laying out the cash for it.

Back in the glory days of the Irish house-building boom, Gary’s one-man construction company was charging telephone-number prices for sticking up extensions the size of a telephone
box
, but unfortunately those days were long gone.

He had a few quid salted away, of course, and wasn’t destitute quite yet, but trips to New York were a good bit down the pecking order when you had four buy-to-regrets (two of which were currently without reliable tenants) and an expensive motorbike hobby to maintain.

Luckily for him, along came Rachel, who, nine months into their relationship, gave him the trip to New York as a present for his thirty-fifth birthday. They’d decided to hold out for a while longer before taking the trip, as his girlfriend had been to New York a few times before and assured him that Christmas in the city was really something special and definitely the best time to go.

His head held high, Gary navigated his way through the crowds of other shoppers towards the nearest check-out queue. However, a display of TAG Heuer watches nearby caught his eye, and before he knew it the small ‘Christmas Eve Price Reduction’ sign forced him into a bit of a dilemma. Eventually deciding he had a watch, and perhaps one was enough, he made his way along the jewellery case to see what other bargains he might encounter.

Now, they weren’t on sale, but the Paul Smith cufflinks certainly would look well – especially for meeting the bank manager. Stuff like that was always an asset, he told himself. In his line of business, and especially in these tough times, a fella had to look the part at all times. The cufflinks were a bit pricey, but wouldn’t they be an investment in his future?

At Gary’s request the assistant took the box out of the display case so he could take a better look. ‘And perhaps something for the lady in your life too?’ he suggested, and not for the first time Gary was impressed by how switched on these guys were when it came to selling. They could be a bit pushy at times too, mind you, but he reckoned if salespeople were like that back home in Ireland the country would still be booming. ‘We have some wonderful specials at the perfume counter . . .’

But that was all Gary heard, as the salesman’s suggestion reminded him of something.

Rachel.

He had looked at some nice underwear for her earlier but it had just dawned on Gary that he hadn’t actually
bought
his girlfriend anything.

‘Uh, no . . . no. Just the cufflinks, thanks,’ he said, his mind racing.

He couldn’t get her perfume again as he’d bought her that for her birthday, but what other options were there at this hour on Christmas Eve? It was almost six and he had told Rachel to be ready around seven. They both knew he was always late so in reality that actually gave him an hour and a half or so of leeway, but at the same time he was getting hungry and the shops would be closing soon.

Paying for his shirt and cufflinks, he decided to head back out onto Fifth Avenue and try the next place that caught his eye. After all, he told himself, Rachel was having a great time anyway, and was clearly happy just to be there in New York with him. Any. gift at all as a token of their time here would do, wouldn’t it?

When he spied Tiffany & Co. just ahead Gary breathed a sigh of relief.

Some famous jewellery shop or something, wasn’t it? Perfect. Somebody somewhere was obviously looking out for him, and this might be less hassle than he’d thought. He pushed open yet another of those blasted twirly doors – they seemed to be everywhere in Manhattan and they made Gary dizzy – and went inside.

A glass display counter on his right immediately caught his eye, not so much for what was inside, but rather for what was behind it. The beautiful and nicely buxom blonde smiled in his direction and drew him in.

‘Happy holidays,’ she greeted as he approached.

‘Hello, there. Same to you.’ Gary ran a quick gaze over the display of swanky-looking necklaces, and suddenly his skin broke out in a cold sweat. Christ alive, look at those prices!

‘Welcome to Tiffany’s. What can I help you with? Are you looking for anything specific?’

‘Well, no, not really,’ Gary muttered. ‘Just something nice for . . . I need something for my sister.’ If he told her it was for his girlfriend your woman would think he was a right tightwad if he didn’t spend big. ‘Nice but not too . . . well, you know yourself.’ He felt like a right eejit for thinking he could just randomly pick something out in a place like this.

‘Ah, I think I’ve got just the thing. Follow me,’ she said walking ahead of him to another counter. ‘Now these charm bracelets are always a popular choice, especially for the season,’ she said, pointing out a row of silver bracelets. ‘People just love them. The perfect gift for a sister, I would think: thoughtful but not too intimate.’

‘Er . . . can I have a look?’ he asked nervously.

‘Of course.’

Studying the bracelet, Gary quickly sought out the price tag and breathed an inward sigh of relief. Yep, this would do nicely. Thoughtful, not too intimate and, more importantly, not too pricey. ‘Right then. That’ll be perfect. Amanda,’ he added, reading her name tag.

‘You’ll take it?’ She chuckled, her blue eyes wide with surprise. ‘That was fast, I must say.’

‘Yep,’ Gary said with a little wink. ‘I don’t hang around.’

‘You know, I just love your accent,’ she said, looking closely at him. ‘Are you English?’

‘Christ, don’t insult me!’ he quipped, feigning horror, then seeing her dismayed expression he shook his head. ‘Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s a bit of an old joke. I’m Irish. From Dublin. Ever been?’

‘I’m afraid not. Maybe one of these days . . .’ Amanda said, laying the bracelet inside a soft felt pouch before putting it into a square blue box. Then she tied the entire package together with a white satin bow. ‘Here you go. I know your sister is just going to
love
this little blue box – every woman does!’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she will. I’ll be the favourite brother this year,’ Gary muttered, whipping out his Visa card. After ringing up his purchase, Amanda handed him back his card along with a small Tiffany’s carrier bag and Gary had to admit that he felt a bit of pride picking it up.

Tiffany’s, no less! Rachel would be thrilled.

‘Thank you, sir,’ the assistant said with a smile. ‘Enjoy your visit to New York and I do hope you have a fabulous time here.’

‘That I will. And you, gorgeous, have a lovely Christmas,’ he said, winking.

‘Why, thank you. I’m sure I will!’ Amanda giggled and Gary gave her one last appreciative glance before picking up the rest of his bags and heading back out onto the street.

Mission accomplished, he thought, a grin on his face. With his arms weighed down with bags he almost felt like a victorious hunter, home afresh from the field.

Just then, his mobile phone rang again and shunting the bags from one arm to the other, Gary reached into his pocket and checked the display. His stomach dropped. He’d thought it might have been Rachel calling him back but no, it was actually the last person he wanted to talk to.

Especially today, and perhaps even more so because of where he was. Talk about bad timing! If she could see him, she’d surely kill him. Well, he’d worry about that some other time, Gary thought, determinedly ignoring the call, though it was much harder to ignore the by now familiar flutter of unease in his chest. Christ, he was no good at this kind of thing!

The ringing stopped and Gary exhaled, relieved that he’d potentially dodged a bullet.

Now, he needed to find a quick way back to the hotel in SoHo.

Where was his motorbike now that he really needed it? He groaned, flustered and frustrated in equal measure. Even with all these bags hanging off him, having his Ducati just then would be a hell of a lot easier than trying to hail a cab amid all the people already attempting the same feat around him.

Oh well, Gary decided, lifting an arm and stepping out into the road like they were always doing in movies, when in Rome . . .

Completely shopped out, Ethan and Daisy had also just exited Tiffany’s.

‘So how about it, buttercup? Do you want to head for the Disney Store now?’ Ethan suggested, although truthfully he hoped Daisy was as tired as he was. It had been a long day and he wasn’t sure he could handle much more of these crowds.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Nah, I think we should head back now.’

‘I think you’re right.’ Ethan took her hand, and was just about to say something else when a loud shout interrupted him.

‘Thanks for nothing, ya gobshite!’ came a yell to his left that, remarkably, rang out above the cacophony. Ethan thought this could well be because the unmistakable accent was familiar to him, since Vanessa was Irish by birth.

They both turned to look at the man nearby. ‘Don’t worry about that, darling. It’s just some guy trying to hail a cab, and good luck to him in this crowd. So what do you—’

Again, a sound interrupted them, but this time it was the loud blare of a horn followed by the piercing screech of braking tyres. Ethan turned back to see the same man now lying in the middle of the street, shopping bags scattered all around him.

‘Freakin’ idiot!’ a cab driver yelled out of his window.

Oh dear . . . Holding his daughter’s hand tightly, Ethan pushed through the quickly gathering crowd. As a university lecturer, he was certified in CPR and as such felt obligated to step in when an emergency like this presented itself.

‘Someone call an ambulance – quickly,’ he ordered, as he made his way out into the road.

Kneeling at the injured man’s side, Ethan could immediately see that he was still breathing, and with some relief he took to clearing a space around him.