“I’m a five and a half,” Merry squeaked.
“Then you’re in luck,” said Patricia. “Try them on.”
“And this,” said another of the assistants, whose name badge read Fran. She was holding a clutch handbag that matched the shoes. Merry slipped on the Louboutins and took the handbag. Christian’s smile seemed too big for his face.
“You’re going to be the talk of the ball,” he said. “Shall we take them?”
“Are you sure?” she asked, looking at Christian then at Patricia. “It seems too generous. I feel like I’ve won the lottery.”
“Then you know how I feel too,” Christian said. “Because I found you.”
“I’ll box it up for you,” said Patricia, steering Merry back into the dressing room. Her head was buzzing as she undressed, and when she put her Carroll’s dress back on it felt horribly tight and course. She wondered if this was what her life would feel like, when Christian had gone, if it would turn back from something wonderful to something mundane and unbearable.
Just enjoy it, she told herself, and with a decisive nod she resolved to do exactly that. Slipping her shoes back on, she walked out of the booth for the final time to find Christian waiting there for her.
“You still look amazing,” he said, and she laughed.
“Yeah, the Carroll’s uniform really brings out the color of my eyes.” She ran a hand through her hair, watching Patricia box up the dress and the shoes. “Are you really sure this is okay? I mean, I know you’re not paying, but it was your favor, you could have used it for something important.”
“I did,” he said. “I used it for maybe the most important thing in my life. This was an emergency, remember!”
Patricia walked over with a bag, handing it to Merry. Merry hesitated for a moment, then took it.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said to her. “I know you didn’t have to show me this dress. I’m so happy you did.”
“It’s a perfect match,” said Patricia. She looked at Christian, then at Merry, smiling. “And I know a perfect match when I see one.”
Merry got the funny sense she wasn’t just talking about the dress. But she was right, wasn’t she? Merry glanced at Christian, blown away again by how handsome he was. Never in a million years did she think she’d ever find herself on a date with a man like him, but then she never expected to be in a Devlin Storm shop holding a dress that had been designed for a movie star. Who’s to say he wasn’t her perfect match? Who’s to say that they weren’t perfectly tailored to each other?
“Thank you, Christian,” she said as the door closed behind them. She hugged the bag to her chest to shield it from the rain. “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Again. You’re good at making a girl feel special.”
“It wasn’t me,” he said. “Thank Devlin. I’m just glad I could help. I can’t wait to see you in it tomorrow.”
“I hardly dare wear it,” she said, and Christian laughed.
“Let’s get you home,” he said. “A cab tonight, I insist. You can’t take the subway with a dress like that, you’re asking for trouble.”
“Can you afford it?” she asked, and he nodded.
“I did a few extra hours last night, it’s fine.”
“You’re too good to me, Christian,” she said. “I don’t think I deserve it.”
Christian stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and hailed a cab. One pulled right over, and Christian opened the door, speaking to the driver. Merry saw him hand over some cash, and felt terrible that he had to part with even more money after such a generous gift. She’d pay him back for the taxi rides at least, she promised herself.
“Are you at work tomorrow?” he asked. Merry nodded.
“An early again, but it’s not too bad because we close at three for the ball.” She sighed. “I’m not sure I can face another day like today, though.”
“Yeah, it was busy,” Christian said. “So many people are leaving.”
“Yeah, it’s weird isn’t it?” Merry said. “I saw Diane today, she’s a girl I work with. She had an envelope, and I could have sworn it was full of cash.”
Christian frowned, his eyes growing dark.
“Cash?” he asked.
“Yeah, I don’t know how much was there, but it was a lot. She told me she’d been given it in return for walking away, for literally walking out the door and never coming back.”
“Did she say who gave it to her?” Christian asked. Merry shook her head.
“She wouldn’t. But she told me it was somebody up high. It was somebody from the head office.”
Christian seemed to take the information in, nodding to himself.
“Get home safe, Merry,” he said, holding the door for her. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
She paused for a moment, a crazy idea running through her head. She almost asked, too. She almost opened her mouth and asked him to ride home with her. They could have take-out, they could watch a Christmas movie, they could snuggle on the sofa and maybe even share another kiss. But there was something about Christian that had turned suddenly cold, his expression distant.
“Thanks again,” she said as she climbed into the cab. “I really do mean it.”
Christian nodded to her, then closed the door and walked away.
21
Somebody up high. Somebody from head office.
Merry’s words rang in his head as he walked through the city. It was Amy. It had been her all along. And he had to tell his father.
Christian didn’t have far to go. His family home was only a short walk from Carroll’s, located on one of the most exclusive streets in the city. He didn’t take the fastest route along 5th or Madison, though, preferring instead to walk through the park. He needed time to think, to work out what was going on, and to plan what he was going to say to his dad.
The facts were clear. Somebody was paying staff to leave Carroll’s, a deliberate attempt to sink the store. That somebody worked in the head office. His dad had always kept his management team small, to avoid complications in the line of command. There were only two people who worked out of head office. One was Lewis Carroll. The other was Amy.
And hadn’t she pretty much admitted it to him, when he’d confronted her?
Prove it, she’d said. What was that other than an admission of guilt? He could easily believe it, too. He knew how driven she was. They hadn’t just been in a romantic relationship—although Christian didn’t remember much actual romance—they’d been in a business relationship. They’d worked together on every aspect of company business, overseen by Lewis. But while Christian had been horrified by the conditions of the workers in the factories who supplied their goods, Amy couldn’t have cared less. She’d wanted to increase their hours, and cut their pay, and it had been an argument about this—one they’d had in the kitchen of the Carroll mansion—that had ended their courtship for good.
Christian crossed in front of the Plaza Hotel, cutting between the carriages and the restless, blinkered horses—their great breaths appearing as clouds in the air—and walking into Central Park. It was busy, despite the hour and the weather, families and couples and tourists huddling against the cold as they laughed their way down the paths, between the rocks, through the trees. He’d loved it here so much when he was younger, especially at this time of year. It had been like his own personal back yard. After his mom had died, his dad had refused to even buy a Christmas tree, so Christian had come here to lose himself in the fairy lights and the snow. Of all the places in the world, the park felt most like home when it was Christmas.
He pulled up the collar of his cheap parka against the sleet. There were flecks of snow there too, and he wondered if it would start to lay. Ahead, dozens of skaters whooped and cheered on the Wollman Rink, and he stopped for a moment to watch them. Merry skated into his mind, and suddenly the stress of Amy just melted away. He thought of Merry’s smile as she’d tried on the dresses in the Devlin Storm store, and he found himself smil
ing too. She stoked a fire inside him that was warm enough to thaw even the most frozen of hearts.
He wished she was here beside him right now, the heat of her body pressed against his, her head resting on his shoulder. All those years he’d walked through this park alone, and now he had somebody he might be able to walk through it with forever. Could that really be possible? Could that Christmas dream really come true?
But he’d walked away from her just a few minutes ago because his mind had been on Amy, and on the store. If he and Merry had any chance of finding their happy ever after, then he had to solve this mystery and save Carroll’s. Only by doing that would he be free to fully commit to her, and to love.
The cold cut through his jacket like it was made of silk, and he shivered into motion again, passing the zoo. He cut back onto 5th Avenue, crossing the street then walking swiftly up to East 69th. The street didn’t give much away, but he knew the houses here were bigger than they looked, especially his father’s. He stood in front of it, taking a deep, steadying breath. The mansion looked the same as it always had, and it felt weird being here after so many years away. But the truth was this house hadn’t felt like home for a long, long time. It was just another place of business, an extension of his father, and of the store. And that thought made it all so much easier.
Walking up the short flight of steps to the gated entrance, he jabbed at the bell with a numb finger. Somewhere inside he heard a door slam, then the sound of footsteps. A few seconds later a muffled voice came from the speaker.
“The Carroll residence,” it said in a British accent. “Who, may I ask, is calling.”
“Hey Browick,” said Christian, recognizing the voice of the family butler. “It’s me, Christian.”
“Goodness,” said the voice. “One moment.”
The gate buzzed and Christian pulled it open, reaching the heavy double doors just as they opened. Browick was there, dressed in the same three-piece, black-tie suit he always wore, and looking older than the building itself. He smiled at Christian, nodding formally.
“Master Christian,” he said, his eyes glinting with happiness. “My dear boy. It has been too long.”
“It has,” said Christian. He grabbed the old man in a hug, breaking all the rules of etiquette that had been drummed into him as a kid. “How are you, old friend?”
“Old,” he replied. “I should have retired years ago, but your father won’t let me.”
“Sure,” said Christian, laughing. He knew for a fact that his dad had tried many times to offer the butler a substantial retirement package, so he could live out the rest of his years in peace and luxury, but Browick refused to leave. “Is he in? We need to talk.”
“He’s in the library,” he said. “Can I take your coat? And make you tea?”
“That would be great,” said Christian. “Thank you.”
Christian handed over the cheap parka, laughing as Browick pulled an expression of distaste.
“Don’t let his cold shoulder mislead you, Christian,” Browick said. “He’s missed you more than words can say.”
Christian frowned, not sure what to make of what he’d just heard. The butler swept away without a sound, and Christian made his way through the empty lobby, running up the stairs. The mansion was vast, and it had always felt empty. Now it was more like a museum than anything else, too clean, too quiet, and filled with old, unused things.
He stopped outside his mom and dad’s room—or at least the room that they had shared before she had passed away. When she had gone, his father had moved all his things into one of the back bedrooms, and this room had become almost a shrine to his mother. It felt painful to be here again, after so long away—a pressure in his chest, in his heart, as he thought of all the times he had sought shelter with his mom in this room.
Pushing open the door, he walked inside. It was just as he remembered it, as still and unchanged as a photograph. Christian rubbed his eyes, feeling the sting of tears.
“Hey, mom,” he said, looking at the photograph of her that hung over the bed. She was in her twenties—not much older than Merry, he realized—dressed in dungarees, her hair tied back with a red ribbon. She was beautiful, radiant, and even though so many years had passed since he had last seen her, the sense of loss he felt was as powerful as it had ever been.
He let his eyes drift over the room, seeing his mom’s coats, his mom’s clothes, his mom’s jewelry. It seemed such a shame for it to be here, untouched and unloved. His mom had never been one to show off, she had always dressed in regular clothes. But she’d owned a few things that she’d loved more than anything, because they meant something to her, something special.
Christian walked to her dressing table, sliding open the top drawer to see her favorite pieces of jewelry carefully laid out on black velvet cloth. Each one brought back a different memory—one of him as a very young boy, playing with the amber beads on her necklace, another of her hiding an ornate silver bracelet during a treasure hunt—and this time he had to wipe away a tear.
“I miss you,” he said beneath his breath.
He had the sudden feeling that he didn’t want all of his mom’s things to be locked away in the dark, and on a whim he picked up a necklace and slid it into his pocket. It felt good to have something of hers so close, and even though there was still a lump in his throat the size of an apple, he felt better as he left the room. He stopped by the door, looking back at the photo.
“I think I’ve found somebody special,” he said. “I think I’m ready to put love first.”
She smiled back at him, her eyes twinkling as Christian set off in search of his other parent. He heard his dad before he saw him, a run of deep, wheezing coughs echoing off the walls of the landing. Christian followed the sound into the duplex library, another wave of nostalgia sweeping over him as he remembered how much time he’d spent here as a child. It had always been his favorite room in the house, mainly because one of the few things his father had always done for him, even after his mother died, was read him stories. Back then, Lewis had seemed like a giant, even here amongst the thirty-foot-high shelves. But now he looked like a corpse, hunched over in an easy chair next to the roaring fire, and sucking oxygen through his mask.
“Dad?” Christian said, gently. His father looked up, blinking for a moment as if he didn’t recognize his own son. After a second or two, he smiled, but it seemed to take all his strength because his eyes drifted shut.
“Son,” he said, pulling the mask away from his mouth. “You remembered how to find the place, then.”
Christian ignored the comment, walking to the sofa that sat opposite his father’s chair. Despite the chill of the atmosphere, the huge room felt wonderfully cozy, and the pop and snap of the logs in the fire made Christian shiver with delight. He studied the books, spotting the spines of the ones he’d loved to read as a boy. The sight of them here made him feel impossibly sad, and he spoke his next words through a lump in his throat.
“You know why I left, dad.”
Lewis waved the words away, opening his watery eyes and staring at Christian.
“You made your choice,” he said.
“I did, but it wasn’t just mine,” said Christian. “I was only ever a tool to you, somebody to carry on your legacy. As soon as I broke away from this empire of yours, you banished me.”
“Rightfully so,” his dad muttered. “You were so ungrateful. After everything I did for you, everything I gave you.”
Even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t get angry, Christian felt the familiar, awful rage rising inside him.
“Everything you gave me?” he said, meeting his dad’s eyes.
“You had everything money could buy,” his dad growled.
“What about love, dad? What about comfort? What about fun?” Christian took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Ever since mom died, it was like… it was like you died too. Right when I needed you, dad, you just weren’t there anymore.”
Lewis
scoffed, but his expression was one of hurt. He sucked a breath through his mask, and Christian waited for the angry response, for the argument. But his dad just hung his head.
“I know,” he said, his admission of guilt shocking Christian so much he didn’t know what to say. “It was too hard, Christian, after she’d gone. You’re right, a piece of me went with her, I never got it back. Help me up, son.”
Christian did as he was asked, helping his father stand. The old man wheezed and limped his way to the bookcase beside the fire. After a moment of searching, he pulled a novel from the shelf. It was a first edition of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, and seeing it again after all these years brought back so many memories that Christian felt dizzy with the force of them.
“You remember it,” said his dad.
“Of course,” said Christian, taking the book and blowing the dust from it. “Mom gave it to me. She wrapped it up and hid it amongst the fake presents beneath the tree, in the store. It’s so weird, I was just thinking about this. I can’t believe you’ve still got it.”
“Of course I do,” his dad said. “I know I wasn’t a good father to you, Christian, certainly not after Maggie died, and probably not much before that, either. You probably remember Christmases being… being cold, and unfriendly.”
Christian nodded. They had been exactly that. Most years his dad hadn’t even been there to give him his presents, Browick had done it instead.
“But you have to understand how hard it was,” his dad went on, staring at the flames. “It was your mother’s favorite time of year, and the only good I saw in it died with her. I just couldn’t bring myself to be happy without her, not even for you. And for that, I’m sorry. But you’re wrong about something.”
“What?” Christian asked.
“That book. Your mom didn’t buy it for you, I did.”
“No,” said Christian. “I remember it, she wrapped it for me and left it there after you told me off for opening the display presents.”
My Christmas Billionaire Page 15
