One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) Page 12

  * * *

  His suit jacket was lying across his desk when he got back to his office. He approached it, gingerly, with caution, as if it might contain an incendiary device. Who had put this here?

  Only now was he able to put two and two together. Slowly it was all falling into place. He’d seen her. Earlier today, when Cole had been giving him a running commentary on a charity project they’d been looking into. He’d looked for just a second, acknowledged an attractive woman sitting there and a girl eating something. Then he’d looked away again. It had been Lois. The woman who had rescued him from a night being eaten alive by the woman in the red dress. Why hadn’t he paid more attention?

  The door of his office opened and Clara stepped through.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were back in here.’

  ‘Clara, did you put this here?’ Oliver asked, holding the jacket up.

  She nodded. ‘Yes, a woman brought it into reception.’

  ‘Did she leave her name?’ Oliver asked.

  ‘She did,’ Clara said. ‘If only I could remember what it was.’

  He folded his arms across his chest. He knew what Clara was doing. She had picked up on his shift in body language from fractured to intrigued and she was spinning this out.

  ‘Do you want to work the whole weekend?’ he asked.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Try me.’

  Clara toyed with one of the beads on her necklace. ‘Her name was Lois.’

  He smiled, shaking his head. She still wasn’t giving up her true identity. Even under his PA’s scrutiny, he couldn’t stop the flicker lighting up his eyes. This was interesting.

  He made a grab for the stress ball, closing his fingers around it hard. He nodded at Clara. ‘What was it you wanted?’

  ‘The latest contract for the Regis Software project. Mackenzie emailed it. It came in after your phone call with Andrew Regis.’ She placed a file on the edge of his desk. ‘And here are the supporting documents.’

  Clara was still standing by his desk, scrutinising his every nuance. His shutters rose back up.

  ‘Is that all?’ he asked her.

  Clara smiled and headed for the door.

  * * *

  Central Park, New York

  ‘Come on, Randy! Here, boy!’

  Angel went haring off through the falling snow, chasing after a dog that looked as if it had had its hair professionally styled. The mutt was more pampered and preened than Hayley. She pulled at her hair self-consciously, tucking it into the collar of her coat.

  The park was like a winter wonderland. All the grass, trees and bushes were coated with white powder, making them look like a picture-perfect snow globe scene. The air was chilly and snow had started to fall again, already thickening the few inches laid the night before. Outside the park the high-rises towered over the vast island garden like giant gatekeepers. It was like nowhere else on Earth and, with every step Hayley took, it brought back memories of her last visit.

  She’d been as slim as she’d ever been then, slim enough to feel cool and comfortable in skinny jeans. She’d lived in her jeans and a pair of black platform boots with diamantes and buckles. She must have looked halfway between a biker and a party girl. Her hair cut in a no-nonsense bob, she’d felt like she could own the world if she wanted to. She had dreams, aspirations, ideas that could fill her book ten times over, and nothing was going to stop her.

  She had laid out on the grass of Central Park, her eyes in the sky, watching the clouds drift from the roof of one high-rise to another, letting herself become part of it all. New York was going to charge her passion and inspire her. It was the city of dreams and she was going to grab at every possibility it offered.

  She sighed. Too much grabbing in the wrong place had set her off on an entirely different course. ‘So, Hayley, did you enjoy your first night in New York?’

  The question came from Vernon, Dean’s boyfriend. The dog’s appearance hadn’t been the only shocker. She could only imagine that was why Dean wasn’t keen on showing her photos of his boyfriend the night before. Vernon was tall, like her brother, but he was older – a lot older – at a guess at least fifty. He had the salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes of George Clooney, with a tanned complexion that hinted at an Italian heritage. When they’d first met, he’d hugged Angel straight away and kissed Hayley on both cheeks. He was easy and relaxed, warm and open. She wondered why her brother thought she might have been judgemental – she wasn’t their mother! What were numbers anyway? As long as he treated Dean right, nothing else mattered.

  ‘We were both suffering a little from jet lag and I had to watch my daughter burst into tears over the death of a lobster.’

  ‘Lyndon,’ Dean added.

  Vernon looked bemused.

  ‘You really don’t want to know,’ Dean said, linking his arm through Vernon’s and smiling. He looked to Hayley. ‘How was the Guggenheim?’

  ‘Interesting. I’m not entirely sure I understood every piece, but Angel sucked it up like the little sponge she is.’ Hayley kept her eyes on her daughter, watching her ruffling the dog’s mane of fur. Her daughter was having a ball in New York already. A warm glow invaded Hayley’s chest as she continued to look across the park. This was what she wanted. Her daughter laughing, happy and carefree.

  ‘Well, I hate to talk business but you’ll never guess what happened today,’ Dean said, scuffing up some snow with his shoe as he walked.

  ‘Hold up, let me guess … um, your tyrannical boss told you the Globe isn’t anywhere near ready and it’s back to the drawing board?’ Vernon said.

  The mention of the tyrannical boss shifted Hayley’s stomach lining as the jacket incident came to mind. She put her hands in her pockets. She really needed to buy some more gloves.

  ‘Would you believe it if I said it was the complete opposite?’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ Vernon said in shock.

  ‘It gets even better,’ Dean continued.

  ‘You’re getting a pay rise?’ Hayley offered.

  ‘Not quite that good. I’m in charge of the project.’ Dean wore a grin from ear to ear.

  ‘Dean, that’s amazing news.’ Vernon stopped walking and clapped his arms around him.

  ‘I’m lost. Explain please,’ Hayley said, feeling a little left out.

  ‘Oliver Drummond signed off on the Globe today. We’re launching in March and it’s my job to coordinate the whole thing, to make sure it happens,’ Dean explained, still smiling.

  ‘That’s … so cool. It is cool, isn’t it? It’s not going to be too much for you? Have you got enough time to take it on?’ Hayley asked.

  ‘Hay, I’ve been waiting so long for something like this. As much as I like Peter, he hasn’t exactly been pushing me towards running projects like this. It’s a huge opportunity,’ Dean told her.

  Of course it was. It was what her brother was good at. Managing. Being utterly competent and clever. He was in his element. And he was such a lovely person he deserved every ounce of his success. Unlike her, with her lack of full-time job and a mission to track down an ex-lover.

  She broke, bursting into heavy, hot tears.

  ‘Hayley?’ Dean said, as Hayley turned away from him, her hands up to her face.

  She was so embarrassed, yet she couldn’t stop. ‘I’m OK,’ she forced out, as thick, wet streams fell from her eyes and almost froze on her cheeks.

  ‘I’ll catch up with Angel,’ she heard Vernon say softly.

  She felt Dean take a step towards her and she wafted her hand in the air. ‘Don’t hug me. I’m being an idiot.’

  ‘You’re not being an idiot,’ Dean said in a consoling voice.

  ‘I am. It’s the jet lag, that’s all, or maybe looking at paintings of pigs with three tails.’

  ‘Are you sure? Has something happened at home?’

  Hayley shook her head, turning finally to face him. ‘Nothing’s happened. I just …’ She stopped.

  ‘Te
ll me, Hay, please,’ Dean begged.

  She looked across the park at Angel. She was throwing a stick for Randy, getting encouragement from Vernon. She needed to talk to her daughter, properly. She deserved to know the truth now. She raised her eyes to meet Dean’s anxious expression.

  ‘I quit my job and Angel wants to find her father.’

  There. She’d told someone. A slight lightening of her shoulders occurred and she blew out a breath as if she’d been holding it in her whole life.

  It was Dean’s turn to exhale. ‘Well, you know what I think about your job? I think you can do better than a dry-cleaning company. I’m glad. And you’ll find something else. Hey, maybe this is a chance to pick up your college course again? Get back into fashion?’

  Hayley thought about her ideas book with the beginnings of a couture dress shaped like the Guggenheim. It was hardly Vivienne Westwood.

  ‘So what has Angel said about her father?’ Dean asked.

  ‘Nothing. I mean, she hasn’t spoken to me about it at all. And half of me wishes she would and the other half hopes she doesn’t.’

  ‘Then how do you know she wants to find him?’

  Hayley sighed, remembering the very moment she’d made the decision to come here.

  ‘Because she made a wish to God and Father Christmas. And I was standing outside her bedroom door.’ Hayley paused. ‘I heard her. She tagged it onto the end of her prayers, Dean. She said, if Father Christmas or God were listening, there was only one present she really wanted …’ The emotion was trying to get the better of her again. She took a breath. ‘She would like to meet her dad.’

  This time when Dean moved to comfort her, she let him. She buried her face into his woollen coat, sniffing hard to control the tears. Dean’s hand was in her hair and she let his warmth and his love wash over her for a moment.

  ‘This was always going to happen, Hay. And to be honest, she’s so bright, I’m surprised she hasn’t asked before now.’

  ‘I know.’ She lifted her head up. ‘And that’s half the issue. She hasn’t actually asked, Dean. She’s made a wish she thinks I don’t know about. Because she feels she can’t talk to me about it.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re here this Christmas,’ Dean added in.

  She nodded. ‘I’ve been trawling the internet looking for him and there’s nothing! And today, before we went to the Guggenheim, we went to a gallery he mentioned.’ She shook her head. ‘Nothing again, but the man was nice. He’s going to email some other people.’ She stepped back from Dean’s embrace, wiping at her eyes. ‘Sorry, I think I dribbled on your coat.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Hayley said again, her gaze falling back to Angel and Vernon who were chasing Randy round and round in circles.

  ‘Stop apologising,’ Dean said. ‘You’re not Superwoman. You can’t do it all.’

  Superman. She sighed, banishing thoughts of hot billionaires she had no time for or interest in.

  ‘So you have no idea where he is?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I mean I’ve searched and searched for weeks. Nothing on Google, or Facebook either.’ She sighed. ‘I basically could get a job with the CIA for all the background checking I’ve been doing.’

  ‘Do you want me to help? There are definitely other sites I know we can try,’ Dean suggested.

  ‘I know nothing about him, Dean. I don’t even know if the name he gave me was real. That’s why I’m here. Because this place, this city, is the only connection we have.’ She threw her arms up, indicating the expanse of land and buildings surrounding them. One city. But one of the biggest cities in the world and she had to try and find a man she’d only spent one night with. She was also ignoring the part of her that was saying he could just as easily be in Kuala Lumpur or Acapulco.

  ‘Well, whatever you need, I’m here for you,’ Dean told her, sincerity coating every word.

  ‘I know,’ Hayley responded, sniffing the emotion away. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Dean made sure Angel was pre-occupied with Randy before he asked the question.

  ‘Well, my master plan was to go back to the places I went with him. Show his photo, ask around. He said he was an artist, I can phone the half of the galleries I haven’t already contacted.’

  ‘Do you know how many galleries there are in New York City?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do. I’ve spent the last two months calling and emailing them.’ She let out an irritated sigh. ‘I tell you what, Dean, shall I go and ask Angel? She’s bound to know. She could probably even tell me what year they opened.’ She brushed the snowflakes off the front of her coat with a sharp, annoyed motion. She’d been harsh and Dean wasn’t saying anything in response. ‘I’m sorry.’ She moistened her lips. ‘I was going to try Vipers, the club where we met.’ She looked up at Dean. ‘But I’d need you to watch Angel for me.’

  ‘Are you going to tell Angel what you’re doing?’

  Hayley shrugged. ‘I don’t know. What do you think? I’m worried if I say anything at all I’ll get her hopes up and then if I don’t find him …’

  ‘Well, in my opinion, every child has a right to know who their father is.’

  That comment turned her stomach over. She agreed, but her default position as a mother was to always protect her child. If she opened this box with Angel, there would be no putting the lid back on.

  ‘I guess I didn’t think through the talking it out with her bit,’ Hayley admitted.

  Dean swung an arm around her, drawing her close to him. ‘It doesn’t have to be turned into an episode of Jerry Springer. You just have to sit her down …’

  ‘Remove the special dictionary from her hands so she can’t look up the phrase one-night stand.’

  ‘Hay, is that what you’re worried about? How she came into this world?’

  ‘I don’t know, maybe.’ She sighed. ‘I just don’t want her to think she isn’t special because I wasn’t in a relationship. And… I don’t want to think I was that girl. Stupid, naïve… she’s meant to look up to me.’

  ‘She isn’t going to think any of that,’ Dean said. ‘Look at her.’

  Hayley shifted her gaze to her daughter, holding out her hand to Randy, controlling his moves with a wave of her finger, lips moving as she spoke to the dog. She was her everything.

  ‘There isn’t anyone on this planet more special than that bundle of cute intelligence,’ Dean told her.

  ‘But I’ve let her down,’ Hayley said.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Because I should have found a keeper not a shaggy-haired artist who charmed me with his foreign accent.’

  ‘I have to admit, I’ve been charmed by my fair share of those too.’ Dean smiled.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’ Hayley laughed, easing the tension. ‘So, I want to hear all about how you met Vernon.’

  ‘Looks like George Clooney, doesn’t he?’

  ‘A replacement because the real one went and got married?’

  Dean shook his head. ‘Oh no, he’s so much better than the real thing with his gorgeous hair and puppy-dog eyes and the way he …’

  ‘I really don’t need to know what you get up to.’

  ‘I was going to tell you he can cook.’

  ‘Oh my God, he is better than the real George Clooney!’

  Dean smiled and took hold of her hand, squeezing it against the wool of his gloves. ‘Oh by the way, thanks for dropping the jacket in today. Angel’s been the talk of the building.’

  ‘Uh oh.’

  ‘The “world’s most eligible bachelor” comment tickled Clara Fortaine.’

  ‘One day that girl is going to get me arrested,’ Hayley replied. Looking across at Angel darting through the snow, her eyes sparkling, cheeks rosy, her breath hot in the air, she knew there wasn’t a thing that girl could do that would stop her going to the ends of the Earth to make her happy.

  17

  Drummond Global Offices,
Downtown Manhattan

  Why did he do this to himself? Oliver had the McArthur Foundation website up on his PC screen. His intention had been to check the list of sponsors attending the fundraiser just to update himself on who was on board with the project. What he was doing now was reading the heartfelt stories from families the charity had helped. It was torturous. It brought back memories of Ben. It physically hurt how much he missed him. And every day it hit him how much better suited Ben would be to this role than he was. Ben had been the dream son. The more academic one, who passed his driving test first time and won the spelling bee. Ben had been kind, thoughtful, doing anything for anyone. Oliver had been the brat. He’d always thought of himself first and everyone else a good while later. Because he hadn’t needed to be the good son. That was Ben’s job. Ben had the halo and it was pointless to even try to compete. Football was the only thing Oliver had had. The only thing he’d shone at. The only area of his life he owned. He swallowed. That’s where he should be now. Playing professionally, living the life he was destined for, not slipping into his dead brother’s shoes and living out his destiny. The Globe was going to make the difference. The Globe was going to be the game changer. It was about putting his stamp on things, feeling differently and not living in the shadow of ghosts.

  He clicked his mouse onto another page and there he was, staring back at him. Ben. His mother had no doubt got the photo uploaded. It was the photo their father had taken when Ben had won the prize for innovation at the annual Manhattan Chamber of Commerce awards. A piece of software Ben had created had changed the way not only Drummond Global worked, but businesses across the world.

  Ben smiled out at him, joy etched on his face, life seeping from every pore. Oliver had been there that night, sat with the family, clapping his brother to victory. He had been so proud of him but jealous in equal measure. His brother might have had a short life but he’d got his dream.