Two Days in Biarritz (46 page)

The yellow cab brought them to Washington Square a few minutes later and up to the door of their hotel. Standing at the railings with his leather jacket swung casually over his left shoulder was a tall handsome man in his early thirties.

“Is that Conor?” Nicky asked, pointing out the window.

Rachel craned her neck to see. “Yeah!”

“Wow, I don’t remember him looking like that – I mean, he was always kind of cute but now he’s gorgeous!”

Rachel grinned and searched distractedly in her purse to pay for the cab ride.

“It’s okay, I’ve got a fifty-dollar bill,” Nicky said, reaching across and handing it to the taxi-driver.

“Thanks, Nicky, I’ll get it on the way back.” Rachel opened the door of the cab hurriedly. She put her four-inch-heeled boots onto the pavement and rushed up to throw her arms around her brother.

“So good to see you, sis!” he said, giving her a tight squeeze.

“It’s good to be here,” she replied, gently pulling away from his embrace. “You remember Nicky, don’t you?”

Conor stretched out his long arm and pulled Nicky closer for a peck on the cheek.

“Of course I do – even though I was an unbearable school kid while you guys were all graduating from college.”

Nicky blushed – the few years’ age difference was nothing now that they were all in their thirties and she berated herself for the short-sightedness that had made her ignore her friend’s younger brother.

“Let me help you with those cases,” he said, leaning forward to take Nicky’s.

“No, really – they’re very –”

Conor lifted the first one that Nicky had left at her side and swung it up in the air. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting it to be so light!”

Nicky smiled and raised her shoulders timidly. “I’m hoping to fill it for the return!”

Conor grinned. “Of course. You girls are going to hear more Irish accents than American on Fifth Avenue. This town is thronged with shoppers from across the Atlantic.”

He lifted Rachel’s case with his other hand and shook it – it rang hollow also.

Rachel led the way up the granite steps of the small but respectable boutique hotel. Icons from the 1930’s covered the tiled walls of the foyer and there was a distinct art deco feel to the place.

“Jesus Christ!” Nicky exclaimed, causing the attractive receptionist to lift his head. “It’s Denzel Washington!”

Rachel giggled. “I hope you’re not going to make a show of me all over New York!”

Nicky had to stop herself from swooning on the spot – it was just as well that Rachel had made the reservation and was checking them in.

“Do you guys want to drop your suitcases upstairs and then maybe we could go to a little café a couple of blocks away?” Conor asked. “I usually meet Alex for a coffee mid-afternoon.”

“Who’s Alex?” Rachel asked.

“He’s a guy that I hang out with. We met at an exhibition through mutual friends and he’s kinda cool – with no bullshit!”

Rachel nodded her head – she knew what he meant. He was prone to criticizing the glamorous
New York set in his sporadic emails.

“We’ll be a couple of minutes. Do you want to come up?”

Conor looked at Nicky and then back to Rachel. “I’ll let you girls do your thing and I’ll wait outside. It’s turned into a nice day!”

“Okay,” Rachel smiled.

Conor moved out to the pavement and sat down on the steps that led up to the hotel entrance. It was a discreet boutique hotel that he had carefully chosen to cater for his sister’s and her friend’s needs. Rachel had warned him that Nicky hadn’t much cash to throw around. That suited Conor because he liked to have his sister near him instead of in one of the many dull and generic uptown hotels where she usually stayed when she came to visit with Derek in tow. Lately, however, she hadn’t been over much and he could sense that it was Derek’s decision to cut back on time spent in the Big Apple. That was why he was surprised and delighted to get the email from Rachel telling of her impending trip. He would do everything he possibly could to make it a memorable experience for her.

He scanned through his phone looking for missed calls or text messages. Business had been brisk after Christmas but there was a lull now with the onslaught of summer – hopefully things would improve and he always got the odd call to photograph some of the open-air gigs. Only one missed call from Mandy and he wasn’t tempted to call back and see what she wanted. A text from Alex made him smile.

Waiting for you in Tart’s … A

“Were we quick?” a voice whispered behind his ear.

Conor turned around and smiled when he saw his sister and her friend.

“Follow me, ladies. I’m going to bring you to a real
New York café!”

* * *

Nicky marvelled at the colourful shop fronts and familiar yellow traffic lights that she associated with the New York she saw on TV and in movies.

“It’s so relaxed and pretty – I expected
New York to be frantic!” Nicky remarked as a yellow cab stopped politely before they stepped onto a zebra crossing. 

“That’s because we’re downtown. Live here a little while and you’ll never want to go uptown.”

“Oh!” Nicky replied meekly. She didn’t understand what he meant but, apart from the tip of the Empire State in the distance, the buildings didn’t seem that tall and life was pretty laid back all around.

Conor beckoned the girls across a tree-lined street and over to a pretty little café with the most delicious-looking muffins and pastries filling its windows. The pale green awnings with
Once Upon A Tart
scripted across them protected those who sat out in front from the mid-afternoon sun. Sitting at a small round wooden table with a cup of coffee in front of him was Conor’s friend. He was doodling on a white paper napkin and as Conor approached he looked up and smiled.

“Hey, man!” Conor said flippantly.

Alex looked at Rachel and then at Nicky – then back at Rachel again. He surveyed her blonde curls and blue eyes as a wide smile beamed across his lips.

“When Conor said he had a sister I thought ‘if she’s anything like him she’ll have a wooden leg and a hump on her back’! But I can see that the looks in the family all went one way!”

Conor smirked at his wisecracking friend. He was used to his sense of humour and he was a good foil for his own laidback manner.

“Rach, Nicky – it’s with great misfortune I introduce Dr Alex Thoreau.”

“You’re a doctor?” Nicky asked in amazement. Wearing a thin leather necklace, small silver sleepers in his earlobes and a scruffy red T-shirt, he certainly didn’t look anything like her GP – not to mention his spiky white-blonde hair.

“Yes, but don’t let this shabby exterior fool you. Sure, if you were to have a heart attack on the spot I could do nothing to help you.” He smiled as he spoke and shook his head gravely. “However, if you had a canvas and a bucket of paint I could throw something together to save your wall!”

“Doctor of Fine Art – just the guy you need in a crisis,” Conor smirked. “Of course he got it in one of those American art colleges so it’s pretty worthless.”

Alex protested with a wave of his arms. “What about Pollock and Warhol – you guys would still be painting chocolate boxes in
Europe if it wasn’t for us Yanks!”

Nicky was just about to butt in and say that Picasso was European but she didn’t want to seem like a total nerd already – even if she did think this artist guy was a bit of a jerk.

“Sorry, girls, he doesn’t usually get like this until after his fourth whiskey of the day,” Conor said with a smile. “What will it be – something savoury or sweet?”

Rachel and Nicky looked at each other and then back at Conor.

“I guess we should have a look inside,” Nicky said.

“Get me a cappuccino, sis, and a cinnamon muffin!”

Rachel rolled her eyes as her brother sat down next to Alex. “Who’s on holiday here?” she grinned.

The smell of cranberries and spices wafted from the kitchen to the rear of the café. Chickens and rabbits moulded from chocolate and candy mixtures decorated the shelves. At the counter an assortment of savoury delights – including frittata and pizza were on display next to the multitude of different muffins and home-baked cookies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever smelt such gorgeous food!” Nicky exclaimed. “It’s a good place to have the munchies after all that champagne I drank on the way over! Totally divine!”

“And the food isn’t the only thing that’s divine around here.” The words had rolled off Rachel’s tongue before she even realised that she was saying them.

Nicky looked over at her friend with an exaggerated mixture of shock and incredulity.

“Is this my married friend eyeing up the opposite sex while her good husband is at home minding the kids? I take it you are referring to that scruffy white-haired jerk?”

Rachel felt embarrassed despite Nicky’s jokey tone. And secretly she felt annoyed. Married she definitely was but Derek was no saint. He had always been difficult to live with at the best of times and recently he had become downright dismissive of her. His standards of perfection were so high that Rachel was made to feel a failure over most of the things that she did during the day.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said lightly – trying to conceal the attraction she had felt on meeting Alex. “Just he seems like a nice guy – funny!” She didn’t want to dig a bigger hole for herself than she could feel herself slipping into. “I’m glad my brother’s got a somewhat normal friend.”

“Honey, if you think that guy Alex is normal you need to get out more. Apart from that blueberry muffin that I am going to devour in about thirty seconds, Conor’s the only dish around here!” She turned to the waitress and ordered food and drinks for everyone.

Rachel paid the cashier and carried the tray out to her brother and his friend. It irritated her that Nicky had spoken so forcefully about Alex – she had hardly met him after all – and she was cross with herself for letting her.

“Sorry, girls – I should have told you,” Alex said as Rachel put the tray down on the table. “I gotta shoot – not like my friend Conor here shoots – I gotta get a ten-foot by five canvas finished by six o’clock.”

“Will you join us tonight?” Conor asked. “I thought I’d bring the girls to Kelly and Ping later for something to eat.”

Alex lifted his sweater off the chair and casually threw it over his shoulders. “Sounds good – one of my favourite places to eat,” he said with a nod of his spiky peroxide-blonde hair. “That is providing the ladies could bear spending the night with a real American.”

“You’re hardly a real American, Alex – your mother was from
Rome,” Conor quipped.

“But I grew up in
Massachusetts! Later, dude! Nice meeting you ladies,” Alex said with a little bow and then he was gone.

“He’s great guy,” Conor said as he watched him go. Then he turned back to the girls. “What do you two want to do after this?”

“Can we do some shopping?” Nicky asked eagerly.

“Look at her!” Rachel laughed. “She’s chomping at the bit. Let’s take her downtown to
Fifth Avenue.”

* * *

Eve liked to shop around SoHo and it was one of the reasons why she chose to stay in the Soho Grand. If it was good enough for U2 then it was just about good enough for Eve Porter.

She made her way to the Armani shop first to get a few make-up essentials and she was running low on her favourite Armani Code perfume. Then she made a quick detour to get some La Perla lingerie. This trip had been organised in such a hurry she hadn’t made any arrangements to meet up with her old
New York friends for tonight. She looked down at her Blackberry and remembered the email that Rachel had sent. She was between two minds whether she should answer her and decided to check out her New York friends first. She typed up two emails: one to Ingrid who used to work for
Just for Coffee
– Eve was probably the only person in the company that she would still socialize with – and another to Tom who was a married man she liked to call for casual sex whenever she came to town. She appreciated the merits of her sex-only relationship with Tom now that she was single again. It was ironic that she worked in the matchmaking business while the need for a constant companion and partner simply didn’t exist for her personally.

As she browsed through the lace-trimmed bras sized
34C she heard a bleep from her Blackberry and knew instantly who the message was from.

Hey gorgeous. Are you staying in the
Soho Grand? How about 5 o c? T

She replied and then, smiling, slipped her phone back into her bag. He was so reliable. She checked her watch – two and a half hours was plenty of time to get some more shopping in – she might even have a bath before he arrived. Hell no! She’d have the bath when he got there.

As a rose-coloured two-piece set made entirely of lace was next on the rail she felt that serendipity had handed it to her. Tom loved pink! She made her way over to the cashier and joined the short queue.