Fairytale of New York (24 page)

‘Nate, I…’

He looked up again. ‘The point is, I still don’t know how I feel about her, Rosie. I need more time…I don’t feel ready to commit—well, not to Caitlin, anyhow. I don’t know, Rosie. It’s like I become a different person—like I’m schizophrenic or something. One minute I’m pretty sure of myself, you know, happy, content with my life, and then—then I’m with Caitlin and suddenly I don’t know the man who’s standing by her side. I want to be the person I am when—when I’m
here,
like this, with
you
.’

Warning bells were chiming inside my head and I began to rise involuntarily to my feet. ‘Nate, I have to get back…’

‘Please stay?’ he urged, his eyes wild with emotion I hadn’t witnessed there before. ‘I need to say this now or else I’ll never say it.’

Reluctantly, in spite of all my better judgement, I resumed my seat.

‘Rosie, since I met you I’ve felt—for the first time in a long time—like I’m understanding myself. You bring out the best in me, the Nate I aspire to be all the time. And it made me realise how
unlike
me I become whenever Caitlin’s around. She’s an amazing woman—ambitious, independent, stunning; she’s everything I
should
want to spend my life with. But there’s something missing—that final magic piece that makes it all fit. I love her but I don’t
love
her like I feel I should. It’s probably my own failing: maybe I see marriage as another business contract. And yes, Mimi has a point in that it makes perfect sense for me to marry her. We move in the same circles, our lives are very similar, our families are good New York clans. But the truth is, you hit the nail on the head when you said I don’t look like a man in love.’

‘Nate, I didn’t mean—’

‘But you—
you,
Rosie. You’re not afraid to say what you think. You’ve made me look hard at myself and I want to be so much better than what I’ve seen. You’re strong and beautiful, and being your friend makes me feel—
alive
…’

Suddenly, I didn’t want to hear any more. Whether it was the potency of his words or the mention of the term ‘friend’ I wasn’t sure; whatever the reason, I knew I had to get out of there, fast. ‘I—I have to go,’ I stammered, rising to my feet for a second time. Nate stood too, grabbing my hand.

‘I don’t want to scare you, Rosie. I just want you to know the muddle going on in my mind. You’re a precious part of
my life and I won’t let go of you for anyone—not Mimi, not Caitlin, not Ed. Please say you understand.
Please?’

For a moment, all I could do was look at him, oblivious to the assembled customers, who were now all avidly watching us. I still wasn’t sure exactly what Nate was telling me. Where did I fit into the picture? I didn’t want to look too deeply inside my head to find out how I felt about him, afraid of what would surface. But I didn’t want to lose his friendship, either.

‘Listen,’ I began quietly, ‘I don’t know what’s happening with you and Caitlin—and, to be honest, I don’t think I want to. I love you being my friend. I enjoy spending time with you. But I don’t want to be the cause of confusion or conflict. I can’t tell you what to do about your engagement: only you know how you feel. But you need to decide what you want because otherwise people are going to get hurt.’

‘I couldn’t bear to hurt you, Rosie.’

I could feel a blush creeping over my face. ‘I don’t mean
me,
Nate.’

‘But I do.’

I caught my breath.

‘You mean the world to me, Rosie. More than I think either of us knows yet.’

Looking straight into his eyes, I knew he was telling the truth.

‘You need to talk to Caitlin,’ I replied, aware that this suggestion carried a whole other meaning I wasn’t prepared to explore right now.

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Yes I do.’

‘All hail our great returning leader!’ Ed called with an elaborate salute as I approached my team. ‘We’re just about done here, boss. What do you reckon?’

I looked around at the venue and felt a genuine thrill at the completed design. ‘Absolutely. We’ve surpassed ourselves with this one.’

Ed sent Marnie and the grads to clear up and turned back to me. ‘Good break?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘I gather Mimi was none too impressed?’

‘You could say that. Listen, I think I might skip the ball tonight. I’m just not Mimi’s favourite person and I could do with a quiet night after all this. So if you could just escort Marnie…’

Ed hung his head. ‘Rosie, I can’t do tonight.’

‘What? But I thought you and Marnie wanted to be here. Ryan Reynolds is going to be here. You need to keep Marnie away from him.’

‘I double-booked. Yeah, I know, I suck as a best friend and I am a complete disappointment. It’s just I promised someone I’d see them tonight and—’

‘Wait—the Specific Someone?’

Ed’s head snapped up, a look of pure horror on his face. ‘What? No! My
mother,
Rosie.’

I couldn’t contain my giggle—or unexpected relief—at his answer. ‘Your mother?’

Ed sighed. ‘Mock as you will, I promised my mother that I’d take her to dinner with my two maiden aunts. It’s the fifth anniversary of my grandfather’s death and it’s just something we do to mark each year, OK? I didn’t realise the dates clashed until an hour ago when Mom called.’

‘Fine, that’s no problem.’

‘Hey, look, it’ll be good tonight. You don’t have to stay for ever and, anyway, you should be here to garner the praise for your design.’

‘Our
design.’

‘Sure, but you know me. Always the shy partner in this outfit.’

I folded my arms. ‘And since when have you ever been shy about anything, Ed?’

He tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. ‘More often than you realise, boss.’

Travelling back to my apartment, I found myself niggled by Ed’s parting shot. What did he mean? I had just turned the key in my front door lock when my cell phone began to ring.

‘Rosie? Is that you?’

‘Well, this is my mobile number so it’s either me or a very courteous thief,’ I smiled, throwing my bag onto the sofa and walking into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

‘Ah, the great British sense of humour,’ Celia replied, ‘so
dry.
Are you going to Mimi’s ball tonight?’

‘Looks like I have no choice,’ I grimaced, grabbing a mug and teabag. ‘Why?’

There was a long pause at the other end of the call. ‘Just—just promise me you won’t talk to anyone, OK?’

‘Celia, honey, it’s an event with hundreds of guests. What do you expect me to do, ignore everyone else?’

‘Don’t be crazy, Rosie. I just mean don’t talk to anyone from the press.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘I—I can’t explain yet. I’m still working out the details. Just trust me on it, OK?’

‘Celia, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?’

‘Really, honey, it’s fine. Just don’t talk to anyone who’s likely to be a journalist. Especially if they ask about James.’

My heart sank faster than a concrete block in the Hudson River. ‘What’s he done? What’s happening?’

‘I was worried you’d act like this, James is
fine,
OK. There are some things that may or may not involve him, but they’re just rumours for now—nothing for you to worry about. The press are digging for information and if they make the link between you and him they may try to ask you questions.’

‘But I don’t know anything about it!’

‘Exactly.
So you should be fine.’

‘Are you there tonight?’

‘I should be—later on, perhaps. I have to see my mother first.’

‘What
is it
with my friends and their mothers today?’ The question was rhetorical, but belied the frustration inside my head.

‘Sorry?’

‘Nothing. I’ll see you later, and I promise not to talk to any nasty journalists, right?’

‘Good. And try not to worry.’

‘Who’s worrying?’

‘That’s the spirit. Bye!’

Taking my mug of tea, I sat down by the window and gazed out at the frosty street outside. After a moment, my attention turned to the daunting prospect of what to wear for the ball I hadn’t intended to attend.

Mr K used to find women’s dressing quandaries amusing and perplexing in equal measures. When female customers would enter the store, red-faced and breathless from a good day’s shopping, he would politely enquire about their purchases and would always regret asking when, twenty minutes later, their blow-by-blow accounts of the reasons behind their choices were addling his poor brain.

‘Women confuse me,’ he often admitted, after his customers had departed. ‘They are beautiful creatures, yet they waste so much life concerned by their clothes and their appearance. And if they are not fretting about their own appearance, they gossip about other people’s. Believe me, Rosie, I thank Papa every day that I was born a simple man.’

I remembered his words and they made me smile, as I stepped out of the cab in my chosen outfit—a simple long black dress with the silver velvet wrap Celia had given me for my birthday draped around my shoulders. Understated and—I hoped—sufficiently unremarkable to allow me to pass through the guests unnoticed. It was starting to rain as I moved quickly along the plush red carpet lit by rows of tiny white lights, as camera bulbs flashed from the gaggle of paparazzi crammed either side of the roped-off entrance, jostling to catch the best shot of the A-list guests. Black limousines drew slowly up in solemn procession to the end of the red carpet behind me as I ascended the stairs to enter The Illustrian, and I could hear the shouts of photographers mingling with
screams of excited fans on the street. ‘Cate!’ ‘Jennifer!’ ‘Over here—over here!’

Once through the grand entrance doors, I began to scan the crowd for familiar faces. After a couple of minutes, I found one: unfortunately for me, however, the face belonged to Philippe Devereau. I tried to back into the crowd, but it was too late. He strode purposefully towards me.

‘Good evening, Ms Duncan. I’d like to say it’s a delight, but I won’t.’

I hoped my smile looked authentic enough to fool him. ‘And I wouldn’t expect you to say anything different, Philippe.’

His expensive veneers sneered back, but I caught the slightest glimmer of softness in his eyes. ‘Actually, I came to congratulate you.’

I couldn’t hide my surprise. ‘You did?’

‘Amazingly enough. Though I hate to admit it, the displays are excellent. You and your team have surpassed even
my
expectations.’

I wasn’t entirely sure this was much of a compliment, considering how low Philippe’s opinion of Kowalski’s usually was. ‘Well, thank you. I’m pleased with the result.’

He paused for a second and then jerkily proffered his hand. From the look of uncertainty on his face, it was clear this was something he had not attempted often. ‘Truce?’

Tonight was already turning out to be a night of surprises. I shook his hand. ‘Absolutely. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied. ‘Besides, I have it on good authority that Mimi has had a long overdue change of heart. Apparently, Kowalski’s is
so
last year. Added to that the fact that, only today, I received a commission for studio flowers on
The Letterman Show,
you and your little business are really of
no concern to me any longer.’ With that, he turned on his Cuban heels and disappeared into the crowd.

I had to laugh. What Mimi had planned as a devastating blow to my business had actually turned out to be the biggest relief. Kowalski’s could more than hold its own in New York: we had proved that tonight.

Marnie suddenly appeared from behind one of the tall marble pillars in the lobby, nearly giving me heart failure in the process. ‘Rosie! Thank
goodness
you’re here! Did you see Ryan Reynolds yet?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘Was that Philippe? It’s such as shame we have to hate him. He is one stunning specimen of manhood.’

I laughed. ‘Well, he’s all yours now. He’s called a truce. You look lovely, by the way.’

She gave an excited twirl, the sea-green chiffon of her long strapless gown billowing out as she moved. ‘You think? I got it from a vintage shop in SoHo. And this,’ she indicated the small diamanté butterfly slide holding back one side of her blonde hair, ‘came from the flea market Mack told me about in East Village.’

‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘I was kind of hoping it might look good enough to get Ryan to notice me. Oh
my,
Rosie! I’m actually going to be in the
same room
as him! I’m so excited I can hardly
breathe
!’ Her pale cheeks flushed and for a moment I was worried that there might just be a loud bang and Marnie would explode in a shower of sparkling stars.

‘Calm down, honey! Have you had a drink?’

‘No, I was too scared to take one from the waiters in case they threw me out.’

I took her arm. ‘Right, well, let’s go and find one to disprove your theory, eh?’

We made our way through the clamour of guests, weaving in and out of smart tuxedos and elegant designer gowns towards the centre of the ballroom. With the tiny white fairy lights twinkling from their hiding places within the garlands, the overall effect was magical. Sometimes I have to pinch myself when I see one of our finished projects, especially the large ones. This one was by far the largest event Kowalski’s had attempted and it was simply stunning. I could see Marnie was thinking the same thing too; her eyes were misty and wide as she surveyed the room.

‘Wow, Rosie.
We
did this!’

‘Yes, we did. You should be very proud of yourself.’

A waiter approached us with a silver tray full of fine crystal glasses brimming with golden fizzing champagne. ‘Champagne, ladies?’

We each reached out to take a glass as a third hand appeared by mine to claim another. Our hands bumped and I turned instinctively to apologise, inadvertently coming face to face with a familiar pair of slate-grey eyes.

‘Rosie? Wow, you look—amazing.’

Marnie’s grin was almost as wide as the ballroom itself. ‘Doesn’t she just?’ She thrust out a hand and David shook it. ‘I’m Marnie Andersson, Rosie’s assistant.’

‘David Lithgow. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marnie.’

‘Oh,’ Marnie replied, quickly letting go of his hand. ‘Yes.’

I made the best attempt to smile that I could muster. ‘I didn’t expect to see you tonight.’

‘Mimi invited me just this afternoon,’ he smiled. ‘She and my mother are great friends—Mom’s on the committee for this event. When Mimi found out I knew you, she insisted I come along. I must confess it was a pleasant surprise. She didn’t mention that you would be here, although I should
have guessed that she’d call on your considerable talents to grace her big occasion.’ His eyes left mine to look around the room. ‘I must say, the displays are phenomenal. You have a true gift.’

I took a large gulp of champagne, gasping as the ice-cold bubbles hit the back of my throat. ‘Thank you.’

‘We should get going,’ Marnie said, linking an arm protectively through mine and giving David a hard stare. ‘Nice to meet you, David.’

‘Look forward to seeing you in March,’ David smiled as we left, ‘for the wedding.’

‘Not if we can help it,’ Marnie muttered, propelling me through the crowds until we had reached a safe enough distance from him. ‘Rosie, are you OK? I didn’t realise who he was. I’m so sorry!’

‘It’s fine, don’t worry. I just wasn’t expecting him to be here. Come on, let’s see if we can find Celia.’

After nearly an hour of polite pushing through the jovial maze of bodies—and finally admitting defeat—we retreated to the relative quiet of the ladies’ room, only to find Celia there, holding court amongst the powdering, preening prestigious females.

‘So I said to him, “Charles, I don’t care if you’re the
Aga Khan,
I’m not writing a feature on
that
in the
Times.”
Honestly, the gall of the man! I ask you! Oh—everyone, I’d like you to meet the lady responsible for all the amazing floral displays tonight—Miss Rosie Duncan!’

All eyes turned to Marnie and me in the doorway, followed by polite murmurs of approval. Celia grabbed her purse and bustled us back out into The Illustrian’s foyer.

‘Girls, you look wonderful,’ she gushed. ‘And the displays are truly awesome. I’m so proud to know you.’

‘Thank you, Ms Reighton,’ Marnie beamed. ‘Have you seen Ryan Reynolds yet?’

‘Honey, after battling those damn photographers on the carpet, the only thing I’ve seen so far is the inside of the ladies’ room—and I can say for certain I didn’t see him there.’

Marnie turned to me. ‘I think I’m going to look in the ballroom to see if he’s arrived. OK, Rosie?’

‘Sure, mate, I’ll catch you later.’

We watched her skipping off into the crowd of people. Celia took my arm and we walked slowly towards the ballroom. ‘So you haven’t been asked any questions?’

‘No. Apart from Marnie the only other person I’ve spoken to this evening is David.’

‘David?
What in the world was he doing here?’ Celia demanded.

‘Mimi invited him this afternoon. I think it was her way of putting me in my place.’

‘Oh? How so?’

‘Long story. I’ll fill you in sometime. So come on, what’s all this “don’t talk to anyone” stuff about? What do you know?’

Celia’s expression was pure concern. ‘There are—
rumours
—circling right now, about your brother. Now don’t look worried, honey, at present that’s all they are. They came to light a while back and I got wind of it again today from our guy in Washington.’

My heart rate began to increase. ‘James has been working in Washington. He’s been there for over six months, on and off.’

‘I know. Hey, I’m sure it’s nothing. This stuff happens now and again. Rumours, idle gossip. Most of it comes to nothing.’

‘But you were sufficiently concerned about it to warn me about press questions earlier.’

Celia patted my arm and smiled as we walked through the crowd, but her eyes told another story. I decided not to look further—I didn’t want any more surprises tonight.