One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) (26 page)

‘
S
o this is Greenwich Village
,’ Oliver remarked after the car had dropped them off again.

Hayley sucked in some of the cold air, including a mouthful of snowflakes, one hand deep in her pocket, the other intertwined with Oliver’s. She was still on cloud nine after the fashion show. Seeing a production like that, something she would never normally have been able to get invited to, had been unbelievable. Sitting next to her absolute, number one icon in the fashion industry had been on another level. By the end of the evening at the theatre Hayley had felt confident enough to speak instead of squeeze and she’d complimented the designer on all her favourite collections since she’d become a fan.

Hayley sniffed. Scents of incense, spruce, chocolate and mulled wine filled her nose. There were different flavours on every corner. A man was selling Christmas trees up ahead and it reminded her that Dean still didn’t have one in the apartment. He had always been far more into Christmas than she was until Angel came along and stoked up her excitement. When Angel was little she’d always made a paper fairy for the top of the tree. Hayley suspected making tree toppers was way too infantile for a nine-year-old now. Her daughter was growing up so fast. Then Michel came to mind. He’d walked her through Greenwich Village in their twelve hours together. He’d seemed right at home with the bohemian ambience.

She came to a stop outside a store where Christmas music was coming from the window display. There were animatronic animals moving to the sound of ‘Rockin’ Robin’. A stag was in the middle, his mouth opening and closing in time to the lyrics, two penguins sat in front, their wings lifting up and down, then there was a trio of rabbits – knitted red scarves wrapped around their necks – and half a dozen small mice, spinning round and round in circles. Fake snow was filtering down upon them and a troupe of Nutcracker soldiers moved up and down the window frame on a track, pink wooden cheeks glowing, arms shifting forward and back.

Hayley laughed. ‘Angel would love this.’

‘What does this store sell anyhow?’ Oliver asked, trying to look for merchandise. He stepped back, looking at the sign. ‘Pet supplies,’ he remarked, shaking his head.

‘Can we go inside?’ Hayley asked him.

‘You want to go shopping for pet supplies?’

‘We enjoyed the display, Dean’s partner has a dog, come on,’ Hayley encouraged, stepping towards the door.

Oliver checked his watch. ‘We have a dinner reservation.’

‘Five minutes, I promise.’ She pulled a face she hoped was like one of Angel’s when she wanted something. It always worked for her.

‘
I
really hope
this dog likes sequins.’

‘It isn’t really for Randy,’ Hayley responded, tucking the paper bag containing a silver sequinned waistcoat and bow tie for the pooch under her arm. ‘It’s for Angel. Fussing over that dog and dressing it up is going to take her mind off finding her father.’

Oliver swallowed. Daniel Pearson hadn’t been able to find any trace of Michel De Vos which even the private investigator thought was unusual. He was going to keep looking, try a different tack, report back as soon as he had something.

‘Still nothing?’ he asked her. Should he tell her he was looking? How would she feel about that? Pleased that he wanted to help? Or was it too much and none of his business?

She sighed. ‘I went back to Vipers last night. Another bartender there said she’d seen him recently, like in the last few weeks. I left my details.’ She swallowed. ‘Last night it felt like all my Christmases were coming at once but in a city this big it’s still a long shot.’

‘Hey, don’t underestimate the outside chance. Drummond Global has made a fortune on some of those.’ He smiled. ‘We’re here.’ He held his hand out indicating the building they’d stopped at.

‘Restaurant Romario,’ Hayley said, reading the sign.

Oliver took it all in, like he was seeing it for the first time. Not much had changed since he was a kid. The window frames and door had been given a fresh lick of paint but the green and red canopies over them were still the originals. His stomach rolled as if it could already taste the delicious Italian feast about to come their way. Breadsticks and olives followed by a garlic-infused lasagne.

‘I’m starving,’ Hayley announced. ‘I want the biggest pizza they’ve got.’

Oliver smiled, stifling the laughter with a hand to his mouth.

‘They do
do
pizza don’t they? This isn’t one of those restaurants where I won’t know the name of anything is it? I went to a Christmas meal once where they did
heirloom
tomatoes and something called a mackerel escabeche. I was too scared to order anything but turkey.’

Oliver pushed at the door. ‘One thing I can tell you is, you won’t want the biggest pizza they’ve got.’

‘Are you sure about that? I’m a big eater.’

‘It takes two people to carry it,’ Oliver responded.

H
ayley watched
Oliver push open the door and a bell chimed above as he moved over the threshold. Heat hit her as she stepped up into the entrance and smells of oregano, parmesan, olive oil and freshly baked dough infused her nose. As she relieved herself of her coat, shaking snowflakes off the material and folding it over her arm, she watched Oliver being swallowed up in the embrace of a short, dark-haired woman in her sixties. The woman was speaking in hurried Italian and Oliver was responding, kissing both her cheeks with real affection. This was somewhere he knew well. And it was nothing like the opulent surroundings of Asian Dawn. This was a cosy restaurant, somewhere you would come to feel at ease. It wasn’t the sort of place Hayley had imagined eating dinner at tonight and, as she watched Oliver in this relaxed atmosphere, she realised that was a good thing.

The older woman shuffled forwards, dark eyes shining at Hayley. Before she had a chance to do or say anything, the woman had taken her hands and was clutching them tight in a move that suggested she was thrilled to meet her.

‘You are a very beautiful girl, very beautiful,’ Mrs Romario said, still holding on to Hayley’s hands.

‘Thank you,’ Hayley said, a little embarrassment creeping in.

‘Hayley, this is Anna Romario, this is her restaurant,’ Oliver introduced.

‘Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you,’ Hayley replied, shaking the hands that were holding on to hers with more affection.

‘This one needs a good girl,’ Mrs Romario continued, her eyes moving to Oliver.

‘Whoa there, Momma, I think that’s enough of the matchmaking right now.’

Hayley looked to the newcomer. He was taller, late twenties, with dark eyes and hair to match. He smiled and held out his hand.

‘Tony Romario,’ he introduced himself. ‘And actually this is my restaurant now, along with two others from the Papa Gino franchise.’

‘You’re not at a networking event,’ Oliver said.

‘She’s cute,’ Tony whispered back.

‘Thank you,’ Hayley replied. She shook Tony’s hand.

Oliver smiled. ‘Hayley this is my best friend, Tony. Tony, this is Hayley Walker.’

‘Charmed,’ Tony said, smiling. ‘Now, please, let me show you to your table.’

Hayley followed Oliver through the restaurant to a booth at the back next to a window looking out onto the street. Oliver pulled out a chair for her and she sank down into it, looking to the view outside. A group of carol singers stood across the road, the tune of ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’ just audible through the glass. A couple walked by, wrapped up in hats and scarves, taking turns to nibble on a doughnut.

Hayley turned back to the room and watched Oliver take his seat opposite.

‘A menu for madam and one for sir,’ Tony said, passing them out. ‘Can I recommend a wine or perhaps some champagne?’

‘You keep working that charm,’ Oliver joked. ‘Hayley? What would you like to drink?’

‘I do like fizzy wine. It doesn’t have to be champagne. Sometimes fizzy wine is actually better,’ she responded.

‘Got any fizzy wine for the lady?’ Oliver asked, looking amused.

‘Only Bollinger,’ Tony replied, not missing a beat.

‘Bollinger it is then,’ Oliver answered.

‘I’ll be right back. Oh, the specials are on the blackboard but we’re all out of the arrabbiata.’ Tony left the table and headed towards the bar area.

Hayley let out a laugh, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What is it?’

‘I had no idea you were going to bring me somewhere so … so normal.’

She watched Oliver shift in his seat and knew instinctively she’d said the wrong thing. She followed it up quickly. ‘I didn’t mean that how it came out. This place, it’s lovely.’ She looked at the other booths behind them, the round tables covered in gingham cloths, the wine bottle candles shimmering. ‘I just thought …’

He interrupted. ‘I’d take you to a soulless restaurant on a rooftop somewhere and we’d pick over heirloom tomatoes and mackerel escabeche?’

She nodded. ‘And that was me putting my foot in it.’

He pulled in a long breath. ‘I could have taken you somewhere like that. That’s what I would usually have done but …’

Her heart was racing. The velvet texture of his tone was settling on her like a layer of snow, but warm, welcome.

‘I’ve not brought anyone here before.’ He swallowed. ‘This place is …’ He reached his hand across the table and picked a breadstick from the glass in the centre. He broke it in two. Hayley could sense his hesitation. For whatever reason, he was finding this difficult.

‘My mom and dad, me and Ben, we used to come here every Friday night without fail. It was one of the only times business was switched off and we talked about other stuff that was going on.’

Hayley leant her elbows on the table and inched herself closer. ‘Like what? School?’ She smiled harder. ‘Glee club?’

Oliver smiled. ‘No one in our family was in Glee club.’ He broke the breadstick again, pieces landing on the small plate to his right.

‘So what did a young Oliver Drummond do at school? Don’t tell me … you were president of the debating society?’ She could see him doing that. Commanding other students, leading a healthy argument about the state of the world.

He shook his head. ‘No, that was my brother.’ A sigh left him. ‘I was on the football team.’

‘A jock.’ Hayley couldn’t help the surprise touching her reply. ‘And I suppose we’re talking a funny-shaped ball rather than the kind David Beckham uses.’

He nodded, pushed a piece of breadstick into his mouth. That gave her every reason to focus on those gorgeous lips that looked just as good no matter what expression they were wearing.

‘So,’ she recovered. ‘When did you stop with the ball games and start with the hard drives?’

She watched a wistful expression appear in his hazel eyes. It seemed like his thoughts were flying far away from the Romario’s restaurant. She waited, hoping he was going to say something.

‘When I ripped apart my shoulder and couldn’t make it as a professional.’

That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting.

‘Here we are, Bollinger, a 2004 vintage. Does that meet with sir’s approval?’ Tony asked, appearing at the table, red-faced, a bottle opener between his teeth.

‘Just get it open, Tony,’ Oliver answered.

‘
I
t was always
Ben’s dream to work for the family business. I was the one who always went against the grain,’ Oliver said as they shared a plate of olives, sardines drizzled with lemon, fresh bread and a garlic butter.

‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting your own path,’ Hayley said, trying to delicately skewer an olive. ‘I wasn’t going to be a housewife like my mother or a bricklayer like my dad and I wasn’t ever as clever as Dean.’ She scoffed. ‘I definitely proved that by getting pregnant young and ruining all my plans.’

‘I think you’re too hard on yourself.’

‘Maybe you are too,’ she responded. The mood had shifted. This was easier, safer territory. ‘So, were you really good at football? Like Jonny Wilkinson was to rugby?’

‘Something like that. I take it he’s good,’ Oliver said with a smile.

‘I can just see you in the outfit.’

‘Uniform,’ he corrected.

‘Tight white pants, bigger shoulder pads than Joan Collins …’

‘I looked hot in that uniform.’

‘I’m not saying otherwise.’

The thought of him in tight pants was causing an involuntary reaction. She was hotting up from the tips of her toes and the flush was moving upwards at a rapid, unrelenting rate. He was looking right at her, sultry, like if they weren’t in a populated restaurant he might rip all her clothes off.

‘Is that your boardroom face? Because it’s totally working on me.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘Right now I’d do anything for you,’ she whispered. What had come over her? Was this the wine talking or her innermost thoughts jumping out of her lips? Her heart was racing now.

She watched his composure drop away and he wet his lips. Before she knew it she was slipping off her shoe and stretching her leg out under the table until she connected with him. Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly began to inch her toes up his calves, past his knee and up onto his thigh.

‘You are a bad, bad, girl,’ he whispered, his eyes not leaving hers.

She jolted in her seat as she felt his foot on her, moving latently upwards.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this in a family establishment,’ she said, swallowing as she felt his foot slip up onto her chair and begin parting her thighs.

‘Absolutely not,’ he agreed.

H
er delicate foot
was kneading his groin and he was powerless. He was raging with lust, completely out of control. He should stop but it was too good, erotic, sensual, something more than that all at once. He pressed his foot forward, inch by inch, knowing he was so close to the most intimate part of her and wanting to feel it.

‘Have you still got the uniform?’ Hayley asked, her voice raspy.

‘What do you think?’ he whispered.

He watched her squirm as his toes made contact with her. He pressed a little harder.

‘Is it getting hot in here?’ She fanned a hand at her face as she looked back at him.

‘You tell me.’ He felt her furl and unfurl her toes on him and he knocked his knife off the table with his elbow.

‘Ditto,’ she said, eyes wide, lips parted.

‘A large Capricciosa and a Tre Gusti,’ Tony announced, slamming their plates down with no finesse at all.

Oliver shot his leg down from Hayley’s chair. His face was flushed and he made a grab for his napkin. ‘Thank you, that’s great.’

‘Fast service around here,’ Hayley remarked.

‘Almost a little too quick,’ he replied.

O
liver watched her
, tearing apart her pizza and eating it like she was a famine victim. There was nothing superficial about this woman. She wasn’t sat there putting on a show for him, she was who she was and that was a breath of fresh air. Everything about her invigorated him. Everything she had going on in her life and she was still able to be so … natural, so free. If it wasn’t so stimulating he would probably feel jealous.

‘This pizza is so good,’ Hayley said, wiping a sheen of grease from her lips with a finger before grabbing a serviette.

‘It’s the best pizza in the whole of New York in my opinion.’

‘So,’ she took a sip of her champagne. ‘Why did you stop coming here?’

She didn’t pull any punches. And he didn’t have an answer ready. Why had the Drummonds stopped coming here? Ben had died and the whole family had fallen apart, not feeling whole when one of them was missing. Maybe that was the problem. They hadn’t clung to each other, they had all done everything they could to get away. Richard with the business, him too – the only person who’d tried was Cynthia. And she was still valiantly trying now.

He shrugged, sitting back in his chair. ‘Ben died. It didn’t feel right I guess.’

‘But you and Tony are friends,
you
still came here on your own.’

He shook his head. ‘Not for a long time. And Momma Romario never lets me forget it.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of that one. She has the grip of a strongman.’ She picked up another piece of pizza and gazed out onto the street. Two children were building a snowman on the sidewalk, their parents helping gather up piles of snow. It reminded her she’d promised to make Angel a snow president.

‘Angel loves Christmas,’ she remarked.

‘She’s a kid. All kids love Christmas.’

‘I always like the food more than the presents,’ Hayley said, poking in the pizza slice.

He laughed. ‘You surprise me.’

‘So do you do the whole going to church thing at Christmas?’

‘When I was a kid. Not now.’

‘Me neither. I’m not sure I know what religion’s really about. I’d just like a world where everybody respects everybody, for who they are as people, not anything else.’

‘Thought about running for office? You’d definitely get my vote.’

‘People make life too complicated,’ she mused.

‘There’s just never enough time,’ Oliver stated.

‘It’s us not
making
time that’s the issue,’ Hayley corrected.

‘Sometimes it isn’t that simple.’

‘And that’s my point. It
is
that simple … if you want it to be.’ She looked up at him. ‘Like, if you knew your father and Ben were going to die what would you have done? Would you still have done whatever you did or would you have spent more time with them?’

‘It isn’t an ideal world.’

‘And you haven’t answered the question.’

‘Of course I’d want to spend more time with them.’

‘And you know you should have.’

‘That’s not really fair, Hayley.’

‘I wasn’t talking about you.’ She sighed. ‘I was talking about me.’ She kicked the table leg. ‘My father died just after I had Angel and, unlike my mother, he didn’t think I was a waste of space, or a let-down because I’d made a mistake. I took him for granted, Oliver. I assumed he would always be there. I didn’t cherish things, I didn’t spend enough time living in those moments and I wish I could go back and change that.’

‘He wouldn’t want you to be feeling guilt about it. No one knows how long they have here.’

O
liver swallowed
as the conversation hit close to home. He certainly didn’t know how long he had here. He was supposed to be all about the moment. He’d always tried to pack everything he could in to however long he had left. But in an entirely different way to what Hayley was suggesting. In a detached, solitary way that meant nothing to anyone. Hayley would hold her loved ones close, not push them as far away as possible like he was. He took a sip from his glass.

‘My mother told me at my father’s funeral that me getting pregnant and having Angel had aged him. She practically accused me of putting the nail in his coffin.’

‘She’s wrong, Hayley and you know that.’

‘Is she?’

He reached his hand across the table, slipping his fingers in between hers. ‘Yes, she is.’ He used his other hand to raise her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. ‘And I’m betting anything if your father can hear you now he’s hammering his fists on whatever cloud he’s on, telling you you’re letting him down thinking this kind of crap now.’

Hayley sniffed and he saw the tears in her eyes. He just wanted to pull her towards him, envelop her body with his.

‘What d’you think your father would be saying?’ she asked him, gently

He sucked in a breath. That was a hard question to answer. How would Richard feel about the situation with Andrew Regis and his mother? The course he was steering the company on with the Globe? How he’d lived his life since his death? Hayley? Richard would definitely have liked Hayley. He smiled then.

‘He’d be saying “Oliver, you have a beautiful woman right here with you, why are you wasting your time thinking about me”.’

He felt a laugh come from her and she unlinked their hands. ‘I’m sorry, I made this kind of deep, didn’t I? I blame the carol singers out there.’ She nudged her head towards the scene outside.

‘I blame the extortionately expensive champagne.’

‘But I’m worth it.’

‘The jury’s still out on that one, Lois.’

She swiped a hand out, catching him on the shoulder.

‘Ouch, that hurt.’

‘Sorry, was that the injured shoulder?’

‘No, that was my baseball arm.’

‘I bet you’re a pro at that too.’

‘Of course. And NHL and NASCAR.’

‘I
do
know what those are.’

He laughed. ‘No you don’t.’

‘I could try and guess. I’m good at abbreviations.’

‘Go ahead, I might LMFAO.’

‘You are so annoying!’

She was looking across at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, that infectious smile on her face. She was so beautiful, sat there sparring with him. He blew out the candle and leaned across the table, taking her face in his hands. Slowly, he brought her lips to his, needing to feel her mouth. She softened beneath his fingers, warm and open to his every move. Deepening the kiss, he lost himself, letting everything he was starting to feel for her flood over him. He slipped his hand into her hair, drawing her nearer still, driven on by the heat of her mouth and the intensity of her responses.

And then he broke the connection, needing to breathe. He carried on looking at her, trying to read her eyes. He swallowed as she matched his gaze and finally he was able to speak: ‘I want to take you home tonight.’

‘I thought that’s what the town car was for,’ she replied.

‘
My
home,’ he said, his eyes not leaving hers. His heart was leaping like a child on a pogo stick, bouncing so hard it was starting to hurt.

She smiled at him, grazing her fingers down the fine stubble along his jaw. ‘A lady cannot accept an invitation to the penthouse on the very first date.’

‘Screw that,’ Oliver said, taking hold of her hand.

‘Why, Mr Drummond, what language in front of a lady!’ She smiled before continuing. ‘Last time I spent the night with someone in New York things got really complicated.’

He watched her drop her eyes, her mind somewhere else. He tilted her chin with his finger again. ‘We’ll keep it safe in the red room, I promise.’