Something From Tiffany’s (4 page)

‘Is he OK?’ the driver of the taxi was saying, a shell-shocked expression on his face. ‘Man, he just came out of nowhere. I couldn’t have avoided him, seriously.’

‘I can’t honestly say.’ Ethan gently wiped the blood from the injured man’s brow, and ensured nobody else tried to move him while they waited for help.

‘I swear to God, he just came out of nowhere. My fare will back me up on that and – oh man . . . !’ Ethan followed the driver’s gaze back to the cab, which was now empty of passengers. Typical New Yorkers, he thought wryly, in so much of a hurry they couldn’t wait around long enough even to see if the guy their own cab struck was dead or alive.

‘Try not to worry. I’m sure he’ll be fine,’ Ethan reassured the driver, who seemed even more distraught now that he’d lost his witness. Worried about a lawsuit, perhaps, Ethan wondered, but then he realised that maybe he was being unfairly cynical.

There was a large crowd gathered, and while the man’s health was foremost on Ethan’s mind, he was also rather mindful of his belongings. The last thing this guy needed was for some quick-thinking thief to steal his packages, especially on Christmas Eve.

‘Can you gather up all his things?’ he directed Daisy, who was standing there looking very worried indeed. ‘It’s OK, poppet, he’ll be OK,’ he added quickly, almost sorry now that they’d got involved in something that could potentially be quite traumatic for her. ‘We just need to make sure no one steals his shopping.’ That seemed to make sense to Daisy, and she quickly leapt into action, much to Ethan’s relief.

Eventually a blast of sirens could be heard in the background, although it seemed to take forever for the ambulance to navigate its way through the sea of Fifth Avenue traffic in order to reach them.

Once the medics were on the scene and had taken charge, Ethan’s next priority was simply getting his little girl back to the warmth and safety of their hotel.

Telling the medical staff what little he knew about the incident, he was free to go as soon as they began loading the still-unconscious man – and his plethora of packages – into the ambulance.

‘Hey, mister,’ a gruff voice called to Ethan. It was another yellow-cab driver, who must have been watching the scene from nearby. ‘That was mighty nice of ya. Howz ’bout I give you and your little girl a lift to wherever you’re headed? It’s on me.’

‘Thanks, that’s really very kind of you,’ Ethan answered, thinking that perhaps New Yorkers weren’t nearly as brash as people made them out to be. ‘But we’re only up the block, and I think we need to walk this off anyway. Thank you all the same. And merry Christmas . . . I mean, happy holidays.’

‘No problem. Same to you.’ The driver tipped his baseball cap, and Ethan and Daisy continued on towards the Plaza, which, luckily for them, was only a short walk away.

Back in their hotel room, Ethan helped Daisy unbutton her winter jacket and warm up her hands. Vanessa was still out, and in truth he was glad to have some more time alone with his daughter after what had happened. Since losing her mother she was prone to worrying about every little thing, especially (and perhaps understandably) about losing Ethan too.

In fact sometimes she was like a mini version of Jane, scolding him about his diet and telling him he shouldn’t eat too much junk food. Ethan also blamed TV advertisements, the ones that continually peddled cures for heart disease and diabetes, for scaremongering his eight-year-old into worrying about health problems, when at her age she should be concerned with little more than the outcome of the fairy tales she read.

Following the accident, it seemed the old worrisome Daisy was back and he needed to try and restore her confidence.

‘You OK?’ he asked, and she nodded uncertainly. ‘You were such a big help back there. Sad to say, but there really are people who would have stolen that man’s shopping. You helped him just as much as I did, you know. We’re a good team, you and me.’ At this, Daisy smiled proudly and his heart lifted a little. ‘So why don’t we order some room service while we wait for Vanessa, and then we can tell her all about it? Fancy another hot chocolate?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said hesitantly. ‘We had one really big mug already today . . .’

‘Well, as your mum used to say, you can never have too much hot chocolate in New York at Christmas.’

Daisy grinned. ‘Really? Well, OK then.’

‘Great. I’ll phone room service now, and while we’re waiting why don’t you go and wash, change into your pyjamas and meet me back here when you’re ready?’

‘OK.’

Fifteen minutes later, Daisy was relaxing in the chaise longue with a cup of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, just the way she liked it, Ethan seated in a cosy armchair across from her. It was a strange day, he thought; he sensed that she was feeling it too.

Well, a lot of things had happened today.

‘You’re very quiet,’ he said, moving across to sit on the end of the chaise longue. ‘I hope you know that the doctors will do all they can to help that man.’

‘I know. I’ve seen stuff like that on TV, Dad.’

‘Good, then you know he’s in good hands.’

So it wasn’t just the accident she was thinking about. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

‘How are you feeling about the engagement ring? About me asking Vanessa to . . . to be your stepmother, I mean?’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘Vanessa has been in our lives for a while now, and you know she really loves you, loves reading with you and taking you to dance class and everything. It would be nice to be a family again, don’t you think?’

Daisy took a long sip of her chocolate and stirred the marshmallows with her finger. ‘Yeah. Being a family would be nice.’

‘Of course, you and I have always been a family too,’ Ethan said, and, suddenly overcome with emotion, he had to pause before he could go on. ‘I remember,’ he continued, turning over her hand in his and opening her palm, ‘I used to hold your tiny hand in mine and marvel at how much the same and yet how different the lines in our palms were.’ He traced his index finger over the lines, while Daisy listened attentively. He knew she adored hearing stories about what she was like as a baby. All children did, he supposed, but perhaps Daisy even more so because all those stories tended to feature both of her parents together. ‘You and I share so much, inside and out. You’ll always be my baby, but I can see you growing and changing every day – becoming more and more of the person you are. It’s been so wonderful and yet . . . Well, it’s been hard sometimes without your mum,’ he said, his voice faltering a little. ‘But I love being here for you, buttercup, and I want you to know that. I just . . . Look, I’m probably not making any sense.’ He ran a hand through his dark hair, wondering why all of this felt so surreal now, when back at Tiffany’s it had seemed so right. Covering her little hand with his big one, he continued: ‘Just know how much I love you. You will always be my number-one girl. But maybe now, as your mum used to say, we
both
need to trust ourselves and try something new?’

For the first time since they’d left the accident, Daisy smiled. ‘Mum
would
be proud of us,’ she said, setting down her mug and giving her father the biggest hug he’d got from her in a long time.

Chapter 3

Rachel Conti loved New York at Christmas. Although a visit to the city was always a treat, at this time of year Manhattan was truly at its finest: all decked out in sparkle and full of holiday cheer.

As she sat drinking mulled wine and looking out of the window at the lights of the skyscraper opposite her SoHo hotel, she was mildly sorry she hadn’t gone the whole hog and booked somewhere uptown like the Plaza, or at least stayed in a place with views over Central Park. It would have been so much more romantic, especially as it was forecast to snow tomorrow, but midtown was all Rachel could afford at the time she’d been making the reservation. She and Gary were only two of the vast hordes visiting New York at Christmas, and most of the better hotels were either fully booked or way too expensive.

She wished her boyfriend would finish his shopping and come back soon. He’d spent quite some time at the shops today, Rachel thought, even longer than she had; but since they were only here for a few days, she supposed she could hardly blame him for wanting to prolong the New York experience for as long as possible.

Rachel couldn’t help but wonder about what he might have chosen for her as a gift this time round. Since they had been together only a couple of months at the time, she had given him the benefit of the doubt on Valentine’s Day when she’d received one of those gift-shop single chocolate roses wrapped in coloured foil. Then on her birthday, a few months later, she’d been disappointed again when he’d presented her with a bottle of perfume and a gift certificate for a well-known discount clothing store. Useful certainly, but hardly thoughtful, and she’d figured Gary just wasn’t the type who went for grand gestures or over-the-top sentiment.

Still maybe, just maybe, this time he would really step it up. After all, she had given him this magnificent trip as a birthday gift; so surely he would rise to the occasion now in return? Not that she’d had ulterior motives in doing so – far from it, despite what Justin seemed to think. He was the head chef at Stromboli, the bistro Rachel co-owned with a friend back in Dublin.

‘Oooh, that’s quite an investment,’ he’d teased. ‘So are you hoping he makes a big one in return?’

As well as an employee, Justin was a friend, and while Rachel was by now used to his direct, sardonic manner, even she was taken aback by this.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Terri, her best friend and business partner, had soothed. ‘Just because
he
needs an ulterior motive to do something nice doesn’t mean everyone does.’

However, she sensed that her friend too had been somewhat taken aback by her generosity, particularly when she and Gary hadn’t been seeing one another that long. But despite Gary’s best attempts at hiding it, Rachel knew that his business was going through a rough time at the moment, and seeing as hers was booming she’d wanted to do something to help cheer him up. There was nothing more to it.

They’d had a wonderful trip so far. Last night they’d gone to see
The Lion King
on Broadway (which, much to her surprise, Gary actually enjoyed) and tonight they planned to go out to a steakhouse nearby for a nice relaxing Christmas Eve dinner and a couple of drinks before coming back to the hotel and . . . Rachel smiled. She supposed she’d better start getting ready. Gary had said he’d be back around seven, although – knowing his time-keeping – she definitely had a half-hour or so to spare.

Stepping out of a quick shower and into a suitably festive red dress, Rachel looked herself up and down in the full-length mirror.

As always she was glad she kept her dark hair relatively short. It was easy to manage and, of course, much more hygienic for cooking at the bistro, and she liked the new choppier style her hairdresser had given her recently; it looked fun and rather flirty. She shook her head, remembering how as a teenager she had hated her petite frame and not being supermodel tall, but now she loved the way her just-curvy-enough hips offset her distinct waist and more-than-a-handful breasts, as Gary called them. A direct result of her Sicilian heritage, as was the relatively uncommon combination of blue eyes and sallow skin.

She smiled. Yes, surely her boyfriend had something wonderful up his sleeve; Rachel could feel it. She didn’t want something grand or expensive, just something thoughtful, something he’d carefully chosen just for her.

Fastening her strappy, four-inch silver heels and intentionally bending over to make sure her breasts were securely situated inside the plunging neckline of the dress, she decided to lay out Gary’s gifts on his pillow for him to find when they returned from dinner.

An hour later, Rachel had placed and rearranged the packages several times, ordered more mulled wine from room service, eaten three cookies from the hotel minibar, and touched and retouched her lipgloss over and over.

But of course that was Gary: chronically late and always pushing the limits. And while it was mostly endearing, this time it was kind of irritating, given the night that it was. Reaching for just one last cookie, Rachel was both startled and relieved when the hotel-room phone rang. Odd that he wasn’t calling her mobile, though.

‘Good evening, this is Nancy Moore, and I’m calling from Mount Sinai Hospital,’ a strange voice said, and instantly Rachel blanched.
A hospital?
‘Do you happen to know a Gary Knowles?’

‘Yes . . . of course,’ she replied, her heart hammering. ‘Why?’

‘I apologise for the nature of the call but I’m afraid there’s been an accident,’ the woman continued, her tone steady. ‘Mr Knowles is in a stable condition, but hasn’t regained consciousness yet. We found his hotel key and called this hotel hoping to find next-of-kin.’

Next-of-kin? Oh no, that could only mean . . . ‘Oh my God,’ Rachel could barely speak. ‘Is he OK? I’m his girlfriend . . .’

‘He was hit by a cab, ma’am, but his injuries aren’t severe at this time,’ the woman confirmed, and Rachel quickly exhaled the breath she’d been holding. ‘We expect him to regain consciousness soon, but feel free to come down and see him whenever you like. Your name, please?’