Next morning I awoke feeling unexpectedly stronger. In the brave light of a new day things seemed clearer. Although my body ached like I’d just done ten rounds with a herd of elephants, my soul felt lighter than I could remember. I sat up and couldn’t help smiling when I saw Ed. He was fast asleep in the chair at the bottom of my bed, his dark hair all ruffled up endearingly, my patchwork quilt draped casually across his chest, with his tall body awkwardly contorted to fit the confines of his makeshift bed. Grabbing fresh clothes from my closet, I tiptoed past him to the bathroom.
About twenty minutes later, I emerged feeling refreshed from a hot shower. As quietly as possible I went into my kitchen and began to make breakfast. It was almost ready when I heard a long groan followed by a sleepy-eyed Ed as he appeared in the doorway. Only he could make dishevelled look so attractive first thing in the morning. It wasn’t difficult to see why the good ladies of New York were queuing up for him.
‘Morning,’ he murmured, running a hand through his tousled mop of hair. ‘I ache.’
‘Hmm…I’m not surprised. Why didn’t you sleep on the couch? That chair didn’t look at all comfortable.’
‘It wasn’t. But I wanted to be there in case you woke up. You snore, by the way.’
‘Oh, cheers.’
The azure-blue eyes sparkled. ‘Just kidding. You OK?’ He followed me to the table in the living room and eased himself into a chair as I poured the coffee.
I took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I think I am. I guess it’s a relief to get it all out.’
Ed took a sip from his steaming mug. ‘Sure. That makes sense. Ow, dammit…’ He stretched out his right arm and rotated his shoulder until it gave out a loud grating click. ‘So—Celia says you’re going to do David’s wedding?’ He was careful not to reveal an opinion through his expression, but I could guess what it was.
‘Yes, I think—well, I said yes, anyway. And before you ask, I don’t know why. It just seemed like the right thing to do. In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. Up until yesterday the biggest fear I had was seeing him again. Now I’ve done that so I have to face the next biggest fear: asking for answers.’
Ed’s eyes remained unmoved but I caught his head shaking a little. ‘You are a constant surprise, Rosie Duncan.’
‘Why?’
He put his mug on the table. ‘For years you’ve kept this secret—it ran your life and prevented you from fully trusting anyone. Then yesterday you had to face David and I saw you totally destroyed by it all over again. You know, I figured that would set you back years—have you scurrying back to the safety of your solitude—but today here you are: the hope is back alive in you, and now you’re even daring to think of the rest of your life. I don’t know how you do it.’
I didn’t either. ‘I’m scared to death of the situation right now, but it’s like you said: I have to consider the possibility that my life could move on. You were right with what you said before: there was a whole side of me you knew nothing about. I should have told you years ago. I’m sorry.’
Ed let out a long sigh. ‘Finally, she realises the truth: Ed Steinmann is always right.’ Leaning forward, he gently took my hand, his fingers slowly wrapping around mine. ‘And I’m here for you, OK?’
I placed my other hand over his and felt a wave of peace washing over me.
Two days later, Kowalski’s welcomed me back like a long-lost friend. Even the little silver bell on the front door sounded delighted when I entered my shop. Marnie rushed up and flung both arms round me. ‘Oh, Rosie—are you OK? I’ve been so worried ‘bout you. You didn’t have to come in, you know. Are you certain you’re OK to work?’
Ed laughed. ‘Put her down, Marnie, she’ll be fine.’
Later that morning, Marnie joined me by Old F, who was busily percolating coffee for all his worth.
‘Celia told me about—you know—what happened.’
I ignored the pang of anxiety that her concerned expression evoked in me. ‘I’m glad you know. I hope you understand why I didn’t say something before.’
She shook her head, pink bunches swinging as she did so. ‘Seriously, it’s fine. You wouldn’t believe Ed, though.’
‘How do you mean?’
She looked round furtively, checking to ensure Ed wasn’t within earshot. ‘He was like a man possessed after we got Celia’s call. I’ve never seen him so full of purpose. He was pretty awesome, you know. Especially when you consider who he was meant to be seeing that night.’
‘He had a date?’ In all the events of the past couple of days, it hadn’t occurred to me what Ed had abandoned to come to my rescue.
‘Only that newsreader, Teagan Montgomery—the one who made the top ten of the Manhattan’s Beautiful Women poll in the New York Post last month?’
I stared at her. ‘Are you sure?’
Marnie nodded with a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’m certain of it. I offered to call her for him but he said it was “unimportant”—can you believe that?’
‘He’s a star. He looked after me so well after it all happened. But then he’s a lovely guy.’
‘Hmm. I don’t think he’d have done that for just anybody, though,’ she grinned, walking to the counter to serve a customer.
Being back at my shop, surrounded by familiar sights and people, I felt my hope returning. I was going to be fine.
All that day and the following week, I found myself getting back on form. Celia phoned me every day and Ed offered to come by my apartment whenever I felt I was getting scared again. But I was coping. A lot of it was an act, of course. Inside, my feelings were just as muddled and jumbled as before, yet somehow knowing other people knew about it made everything easier to handle.
One thing bothered me, though: Nate didn’t visit. He called to apologise for not being there and sent me texts every day to see how I was, but I couldn’t help wondering if what I’d told him had changed his opinion of me after all. This thought sat uneasily on top of the pile of emotions in my gut and remained there stubbornly, despite my best attempts to dismiss it.
Celia was quick to dispel my concerns. ‘I spoke with Nate today and he was very worried about you. He’s simply snowed under with work till the holidays.’
‘And he’s planning his engagement,’ I chipped in.
Celia raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Or being planned into it, if what I hear is correct.’
‘Which it’s bound to be, as you are the trusty, never-fail ears of the Times,’ I laughed.
‘Absolutely. So has David called you?’
His name sent a wave of cold nausea through me. I swallowed hard. ‘No. Not yet.’
Celia grinned. ‘Only I heard Mr Lithgow has been spotted at several seasonal soirees sporting the latest desirable fashion accessory for the rat about town.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her sparkle was infectious and I found myself smiling with her.
‘Only a huge humdinger of a black eye!’ she announced, then leaned forward and, added, ‘Now, I wonder why Nate hasn’t been to see you recently…’
‘Oh, no, Celia, you don’t think…?’
Celia shrugged but the sly smile remained. ‘Who knows? I’m merely reporting facts here. It would be unethical of me to enter into conjecture. But, you’ve gotta admit, it’s an intriguing possibility. And Nate was very, very angry when he left my office last week.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know, honey. Nate doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who hits people. Anyway, whatever the truth is, I’m not looking forward to seeing David again.’
‘Honey, you’ll be fine! Just you wait and see.’
As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long.
It had been a crazy day at the shop as Christmas fever well and truly gripped New York. Not only were we rushing to complete garlands and decorations for our orders, but we also had to deal with a constant stream of customers through the doors. Four extra staff had been taken on for the seasonal rush—Jocelyn, Heidi, Brady and Jack—all recently graduated floristry students. They worked on the orders with Ed, while Marnie and I faced the onslaught from the street.
‘Hey, did I tell you I finally got a new apartment?’ Marnie smiled as she wrapped a berry-red poinsettia and placed it in a Kowalski’s string-handled bag for a large smiling lady.
‘That’s great!’ I replied, accepting payment from a grufflooking man and handing over his change.
Marnie smiled. ‘It’s near SoHo—a friend of my uncle’s got it for me at a special price.’
‘How lovely to be in your new place in time for Christmas,’ the smiley lady beamed.
‘Isn’t it just?’ Marnie smiled back, adding, ‘Merry Christmas!’ as the lady left. Turning to me, she continued, ‘It’s so cool. Mack says with the right furnishings it’ll look a million dollars.’
‘Mack? Ah, the guy from your theatre group…Marnie, I’m sorry. I completely forgot to ask you about how it went with him.’
‘Uh, well, I did like you said and asked him out for a drink. And it was…good. We talked about just about everything. He’s such a great guy.’
I sensed a But. ‘But?’
‘Totally, completely gay.’
‘Oh, no,’ I breathed in sympathy.
‘No, it’s totally cool though ‘cos he’s, like, the most awesome person when it comes to interior decorating. He’s taking me shopping Saturday to fit out the whole place,’ she giggled, and trotted merrily away to attend to a customer. I shook my head but couldn’t help smiling. In the midst of all the change and pace around me it was comforting to know that a great City Institution—namely, The Legend that Is Marnie Andersson’s Love Live—was alive and well.
My mobile buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t recognise the number. ‘Hello, Rosie Duncan speaking?’
‘Well, hello, Rosie Duncan,’ replied a voice that made icicles stab at my spine. ‘It’s David.’
All of a sudden, it was harder to breathe. ‘Yes—I know.’
There was a pause, then I heard him laugh. ‘Good, good. I need to see you, Rosie—uh, regarding the commission order we spoke about recently. My fiancée’s getting jittery about the designs—you know how it is…’ Another, longer pause followed. I braced myself against a strong wave of pain as it crashed over me. ‘Uh…can I meet you…tonight…? Let’s say—uh—dinner at seven thirty at Rochelle’s?’
My head was spinning, but I steadied myself and answered as calmly as I could, ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’
His tone changed for the briefest time. ‘Please, Rosie? There are things I want…we need to discuss.’
Though I hated it, he was right. Better to get it over with as soon as possible. ‘Fine. See you then.’ I ended the call before he could reply.
‘You OK?’ Marnie was once again behind the counter, looking concerned.
I managed a smile. ‘Yes, mate. I’m just fine.’
Once, when I was about fourteen years old, I met an explorer. He had recently returned from a successful Arctic expedition and my school invited him to talk to us about it. He brought photos of snowfields and polar bears, arctic scientists muffled up against the cold in bright orange snowsuits and nightscapes illuminated by the Northern Lights.
He was asked what made him want to do what he did: his answer was surprising. ‘I was a fearful child,’ he said. ‘My mother was terrified of spiders and I inherited her fear. My grandmother used to hide under the stairs during thunderstorms, so I would hide there with her until I got scared of them too. I soon became scared of everything that was new and different, and anything I didn’t understand. Then I began to be interested in science—especially biology and meteorology. As I studied the things I feared, I realised what I was missing out on—the wonders of this world, the intricate beauty of its varied environments. I became an explorer to make up for lost time. Anything I’ve previously feared I now actively pursue.’
Maybe that’s what I was doing now.
I stood outside Rochelle’s on West 70th Street and looked up at the entrance that rose magnificently from the tree-lined avenue. Time to make up for lost time, I told myself as I walked up the marble steps.
The maître d’ smiled as I approached. ‘Ah, Ms Duncan, how delightful to see you again.’
I smiled. ‘Hello, Cecil. How’s your wife?’
Cecil’s bushy black moustache rose as he smiled. ‘She’s very well, Ms Duncan. She adored the bouquet you put together for her birthday.’ He gestured towards the dining area. ‘I believe Mr Lithgow is already here. Follow me, please.’
David stood as I approached the table. ‘Rosie.’ He offered his hand—then withdrew it quickly when I didn’t accept. As we sat down, I noticed he was rubbing one thumb erratically across the knuckle of the other—a thing he always did when he was nervous. I frowned. He had appeared so confident when he’d called earlier, and I had expected him to be the same now. But to see him not in control empowered me slightly. A waiter brought menus and we ordered. Once the necessary business was complete we were left alone. As it was early, the restaurant was only a quarter full, with most of the diners seated on the other side of the room. Consequently, we were more alone than I had anticipated we would be.
David took a long sip of water and then looked at me. In the soft light I could clearly see a faint purple shadow around his right eye. It was obvious that Celia’s trusty sources had triumphed once again.
He spoke at last. ‘I didn’t think you’d come. I didn’t think you’d take the job.’
My guard in place, I answered coolly. ‘I’m still not sure why I did.’
His stone-grey eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I’m so glad you accepted. Honestly I am. You don’t know how good it is to see you.’
His warmth threw me and I reached for my water glass to avoid his stare.
‘I can’t tell you what a relief it was to finally find you,’ he continued, leaning towards me, his voice like velvet trade winds. ‘I needed to find you, Rosie. I—uh—I wanted to—make things right…’
He was interrupted by the arrival of our wine, providing a brief respite. He straightened up to talk to the wine waiter and I grabbed the few precious seconds it provided to gather myself together. When the waiter left I seized the initiative and changed the subject.
‘Nate said this was a large commission,’ I began, intrigued to see David momentarily touch his wounded eye at the mention of Nate’s name. He tried to reply, but I continued, ‘so it’s important at this meeting that we discuss numbers of pieces required so I can prepare my staff well in advance. I need to know roughly how many table pieces and large displays will be needed; which areas of the venue are to feature flowers; numbers of buttonholes required for guests and bridal party; plus, of course, requirements for the bridal bouquet.’
‘Naturally,’ David replied, producing an envelope from his jacket. ‘I’ve detailed everything here for you.’ He handed it over. As I reached out to take it, his hand brushed lightly against mine. The touch was softer than fine silk. I flinched, but he continued, apparently unaware, ‘Would it be beneficial for your team to see the venue at any time?’
‘Yes it’s…our…normal procedure,’ I was struggling and now he saw it. He leaned closer.
‘Would you like to see it soon? I could arrange for you to come out before Christmas, if you wish. Maybe you could make a preliminary visit before you bring your team?’
‘No.’ My answer was strained. I cleared my throat and started again. ‘No, that won’t be necessary. Sometime in January will be fine. So, the next consideration is your specifications for colour and variety of the flowers required.’
David’s gaze remained unmoved. ‘That’s all on the list. I thought it best not to go through it here…now…’
We ate our meal quickly, although I sensed David was no hungrier than I was. He explained a little more about the layout of his parents’ new house in the Hamptons and I answered his questions about the type of weddings Kowalski’s had catered for in the past. Throughout the meal we maintained a wellpractised professional composure, much like we had assumed when we first met in London. A warm recollection eased itself slowly into my mind of the first week we worked together: our carefully constructed conversations from behind purpose-built defences. We were two people locked in a subtle game: each determined to retain the upper hand, yet both secretly fascinated with the other. Now, for the smallest moment, we were back there once more. Though guarded on both sides, tiny glimpses of that same sparkling energy fizzed through our conversation. It was devastatingly smooth warfare: utterly uncomfortable yet morbidly satisfying with its onslaught on my senses. I wondered if he felt it too.
At the end of the meal, David smiled. ‘You’re as adept a businesswoman as you always were, Rosie. Exactly like you were when I met you.’ The vivid memory sent a diamond-edged shard of pain through my heart. His eyes flashed and the corners of his wide mouth lifted slightly. I looked away. I caught the faintest sound of a sigh and he spoke again. ‘I’ll get the bill.’
Once it was settled, we rose to leave and Cecil escorted us to the door. ‘I hope to see you again, very soon, Ms Duncan, Mr Lithgow,’ he smiled as we collected our coats and wrapped up ready for the cold outside. ‘Now, you have our order for seasonal flowers?’
‘It’ll be with you on Christmas Eve, as arranged.’
Cecil’s moustache jumped into a smile. ‘Wonderful. Merry Christmas, Ms Duncan.’
‘Merry Christmas, Cecil,’ I replied as David and I walked outside. I turned to hail a cab, then froze when I felt David’s hand on my shoulder.
‘Rosie, before you go—can we walk a little?’
I slowly turned back. ‘I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.’
His eyes were wide as they met mine; all of a sudden, he looked lost. ‘Please?’
A thought flickered in my mind. He might be as hurt as you. Angrily, I dismissed it. But something in his expression struck an ancient, long-forgotten chord. ‘OK. You’ve got ten minutes. Then I must go.’
We walked until we reached a diminutive community garden dwarfed and overshadowed by an imposing 1920s building. Most of its former glory had faded, but it proudly retained a dustily majestic air of what it had once been. David walked a little way into the garden until he reached a small wooden bench. He sat down and looked up at me.
‘Please sit with me?’
I wrapped my coat defensively around myself. ‘No, thanks. I’m fine here.’
David let out a sharp breath, which rose in the frosty night air like steam from city drains. ‘Look, Rosie, I know this is hard for you, but—’
Instantly I snapped back. ‘Pardon me? I’m sorry, I think I misheard you, David. For a moment there I thought you said you knew how I felt…’
He opened his mouth to reply but I got there first.
‘…Because, let me tell you, you have no idea how I feel. No idea at all. So don’t even think you know how hard this is for me. Because you wouldn’t even come close.’
‘OK, OK, I understand. I’m sorry.’ His voice softened and he held out his hand. ‘Just…please…it would be better if you’d sit down, OK? That’s all I meant. Please?’ That lost look was all over his face again. I hesitated for a moment before relenting, sitting as far from him as I could. ‘Thank you,’ he breathed. I checked my watch. He spoke again, more softly this time. ‘Look at me, Rosie.’
‘No, look, I’m sitting down and—and—I’m here in the first place, all right? So don’t push it. Just say what you want to say and then let me go home.’ My eyes kept their defiant vigil on the floor.
He swore under his breath. ‘OK. Sure. On your terms it is, then.’
On my terms? my mind screamed silently. The last six and a half years have been on your terms…
With great effort, I kept my expression steady and my inner disgust hidden as David continued, ‘Man, this is hard…OK…I realise I have no idea what you’ve been through on my account. I’m well aware that—before I start—nothing I say right now is going to sound worthy enough to compensate for what happened…what I did to you…I know that, Rosie. But I have to try, surely?’
I knew he was looking straight at me, in the way he used to.
‘Yeah, sure, you’ve every right to be silent. After all, I guess I’ve been silent towards you for all this time. But being silent doesn’t mean you have nothing to say, Rosie. Though we never spoke, I always had things I wanted to say to you—you have to believe that. I’ve often thought about you: how you were doing, where you were…I thought you would have gone back to England…And I know I never tried to contact you but I didn’t know where to look…No, uh—no, that isn’t true: I was too scared to look for you. I couldn’t face talking to Ben, or Rosemary, both of whom I knew would be gunning for me. And then it got too late and too many things got in the way, like…like Rachel…But, hey, you don’t want to hear about her. No, of course you don’t. Hell, I’m making such a mess of this. I thought I’d never have to say this stuff. I thought I’d never find you, but, well, here you are…Here we are…’
I shifted uneasily as pain intensified in my gut.
‘And now I’m struggling, because all the fine words I’d planned to say seem totally inadequate now. Nate was right: I don’t deserve to receive anything from you ever again, let alone your time to hear me out.’
‘Did he hit you?’ I meant to keep my curiosity locked up but the question escaped.
Surprised, David laughed. ‘Yeah, he totally slammed me. I didn’t know he had it in him. We used to joke at Yale that he was the only guy who could win a boxing tournament with persuasive argument.’ The smile left his voice. ‘But I was wrong, obviously. It seems there are some subjects he’ll make an exception for. Like you.’ His words caught me offside and I was suddenly face to face with him before I had chance to think better of it. As though celebrating a goal achieved, triumph lit my opponent’s eyes and broadened his smile. ‘Well, that got you looking at me, Ms Duncan.’
Incensed, I stood. ‘I’m going home. I shouldn’t have come here. Good night.’
Without looking back, I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets and began to walk briskly from the garden. I heard him call my name and his footsteps quickening behind me. Shaking my head, I stepped up the pace, breaking into a halfrun as I rounded the block and headed for the light of the metro station entrance a little way ahead of me. He called my name again, this time much nearer.
‘Leave me alone!’ I shouted back. I was almost at the subway—just a little further…My pursuer’s steps came closer—now I could hear his heavy bursts of breath behind me. I tried increasing my speed but it was too late. My right arm jolted back as he pulled me to a halt, spinning me round to face him.
‘Hit me,’ he growled, between large gasps for breath.
‘What?’ I shot back, trying unsuccessfully to break free from his grip that imprisoned both arms now. ‘Let me go.’
‘Hit me…’ he repeated breathlessly. ‘Just damn well hit me, Rosie. Let the anger out and then we can be civil. What are you waiting for? Come on, give me your best shot!’
White-hot anger made my answer colder than ice. ‘No, I won’t. And how dare you trivialise everything? What, you think that’s going to solve the situation between us? So I lash out to get it out of my system, is that it? That would be just great for you, wouldn’t it: one confrontation and it’s all over. Just like one decision solved your problem with me last time. Is that all you think it takes?’
Genuine shock painted his face. ‘I—I…’
‘I will work with you on your wedding, David, as agreed. You will receive the best service that Kowalski’s can offer. Like we offer all our customers. Because that is all you are to me, OK? Just—another—client.’ I paused for breath and silence fell as we faced each other. I felt the anger leave, but steel-cold defiance remain. ‘I’m going home now. Please let me go.’
Still stunned, David’s hands fell away. ‘Can I call you?’
My eyes bore straight into his. ‘Why?’
His lips moved without resulting sound, unable to offer an answer.
‘Good night, David.’ I turned and walked slowly away.