Aqua - Christmas in New York City (Aqua Romance Travel Series)

by Amanda S. Jones

  Contents

  Introduction

  Part One - The 24 days of Christmas

  Part Two - The 12 days of Christmas

  Part Three - The Most Important Thing You Can Do

  Part Four - Join the Aqua

  Part Five - The Next Book in the Series

  Part Six - Bonus: First Chapter of AQUA - Venetian Nights

  Part Seven - Further Information

  Introduction

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Aqua series, an intimate experience of food, travel and love.

  In each book, you will journey on the same cruise ship Aqua, each story bringing new characters, destinations and experiences, each interwoven with the last.

  Periodically, novellas will follow some characters to the mainland where you’ll get a sense of their lives at home. Christmas in New York City is one of these books - my Christmas gift to you. You will return to the city with two favorite Aqua characters, Casey and Harry, as they settle into their life together. You'll experience food, along with a special recipe that Chef Amber shared with Harry, and there will be the continued opportunity to taste the meals, test culinary methods in your own kitchen or even try some of the character’s moves in your own snow-covered backyard!

  The magic of love from the Aqua follows the characters back to the mainland with the tree lighting at the Rockefeller Center, the glittering Christmas decorations at Dyker Heights, and the twinkling window displays on Fifth Avenue. Step into Casey and Harry's home and see what’s in store for them with the help of family, friends, and a special Christmas wish.

  Now, enter New York City and immerse yourself in true love, a holiday location, seduction, sumptuous foods and the magic of the season.

  With love,

  Amanda

  Other Titles in the Series

  Other Titles in the Series

  Other Titles in the AQUA Series

  Aqua - Venetian Nights (Volume 1, Book 1)

  Aqua - Mediterranean Nights (Volume 1, Book 2)

  PART ONE

  The 24 days of Christmas

  Christmas…is not an external event at all, but a piece of one’s home that one carries in one’s heart.

  Freya Stark

  Make a Wish

  Casey clapped her gloved hands as she called out with Harry and the rest of the crowd at the Rockefeller Center: “Five, four, three, two, one!” In an instant the 30,000 lights lit up the enormous evergreen and Casey was back in her childhood, her father lifting her onto his shoulders, her mother supporting her as she reached out her chubby fingers to touch the star.

  She continued to clap among the shouts from the crowd and joined in the singing of Joy to the World. Tears pricked her eyes and she turned toward Harry and mouthed, ‘Thank you’. Ever since her mother died, she hadn’t come back to the annual tradition and he had given her the courage to do so.

  Harry simply squeezed her hand and then hoisted her onto his shoulders, her arms flailing to balance herself as they both laughed. She reached her adult hand toward the giant spruce tree, standing like a piece of the sky on the streets of New York. Casey pressed her legs tight against Harry’s waist and leaned back till her hand covered the outline of the crystal star, then clutched that image and tightened her fist around it. She closed her eyes and held her hand against her lips . Make a wish, she heard her mom say.

  Casey leaned down to one side, opened her fingers toward Harry’s face and blew on her palm. “Make a wish,” she said.

  Harry caught the imaginary star as Casey’s father always did, pressed his fingers tight against his palm as he closed his eyes around the wish. Then he held his hand toward the tree and released the wish with his fingers.

  For a moment Casey just stared into the night, the lights from the tree sparkling around her, the shouts from the crowd still echoing down the streets. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could be any age right now. A five-year-old at her first Christmas tree lighting, an eleven-year-old with her mother sick at home, or a teenager mourning her mother while pressing through the crowds to escape the merriment. She was none of those and yet all of those, here now, holding the arms of a man that had turned her pain into warm memories for a stable future.

  She held onto Harry’s muscular shoulders, slid down his body and turned toward him. Amid the noise from the crowd, they simply looked at each other and knew they had found what was meant in their lives. Harry pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear. “What was your wish?”

  She closed her eyes. To give you a child. I want to, just don’t know if I can do it. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “You know what my wish was?”

  “Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true.”

  To share our love with a child, Cassandra. I want that for us, but know I can’t ask that of you right now. “Then I’ll give you this instead.” Harry pulled a tiny replica of the Swarovski star-topper out of his pocket. “Happy fourth day of Christmas, Cassandra.”

  Casey stared from the treetop to the life-size angels that lined the walkway. Her mother told her that the wire-sculpted angels came to life on Christmas Eve and Casey had fashioned some for their tree at home. The year after her mother died, her father threw out any mementos that brought him pain. The Christmas decorations were one of the boxes Casey never saw again.

  When she had opened her eyes on their first day of Christmas, Harry’s gift to her were replica decorations of the angels. They spent the morning picking out an evergreen and carried it back home where they circled the tree with lights, hung the celestial decorations and topped it with a star.

  What confounded her was that Harry remembered everything she had told him. Each day, her Christmas gift represented some memory she had shared with him during the last few months.

  Casey loved Harry’s enthusiasm for the holiday season. Her ex, Roger, would never come with her to the tree lighting and she often skated on her own, looking back toward the tree towering above the ice rink.

  “But it’s a world-wide symbol of the holidays, Roger.”

  “You know I hate crowds. We can see the tree when we’re Christmas shopping.”

  “It’s about the moment, Roger. When the switch is flipped on that Swarovski star–topped tree. Giggles, ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ spring up from the crowd.”

  He had waved her off, “I can get that watching it on TV.”

  It was Roger’s lack luster approach to everything that had Casey half-hearted about children as well. When she discovered her gene mutation, she resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t have children. Her mother and aunt had already died from the disease and she didn’t want it passing onto another generation. It was a bittersweet decision but Roger, couldn’t have been happier and that eased the feeling of loss she experienced whenever she spent time with children.

  Now, in the midst of toddlers shrieking in delight and tugging at parent’s arms, a longing opened up within Casey, especially when sharing the moment with Harry. He so wanted children and Casey wanted to give him every wish he had, but a child was something she had to warm to.

  They skated by a group of children when a little girl lost control and tumbled onto the ice. Harry caught her arm just in time, scooped her into his arms and set her straight on the ice. “Adorable wasn’t she?” he put his arm around Casey and they skated into the center of the rink. “If we had a daughter, what would you name her?”

  “Ann. After my mother.”

  He held her hands toward his chest. “And a boy?”

  She took a long glide before answering. Since he
r diagnosis, she hadn’t given having children much thought, let alone their names. “Liam.”

  “That’s Irish isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Why that name?”

  “He was a favorite uncle of mine.” If she were honest, it was the first name that came to her mind, and because they were overnighting in the very place Liam took Casey every year as a child. He would walk with Casey and her mother, from the metro station through the Madison Avenue courtyard that led to the grand lobby of the New York Palace. The first time her uncle took her, he paused in front of the Christmas tree as Casey stared at the twinkling lights, and pulled a gold tiara from his coat. Casey tugged it taut over her wool hat when Liam explained that the broad staircases and crystal chandeliers were what princesses’ castles looked like.

  “I never got to know my relatives. I want our children to.”

  “Well, we don’t have any siblings.”

  “All the more reason they should get to know our fathers.”

  The thought ran a shiver up Casey’s spine. Having her father over for dinner was bad enough, but having him be a part of an innocent child’s life was even more disturbing. And it didn’t seem that Harry’s father was a better role model. She glanced back at the Norway spruce glittering against the night. “It would be better if our mothers were still alive.”

  “You don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

  “You know dad isn’t my favorite person.”

  “I mean about having children.”

  “You know why.”

  “Yes, but all the more reason.”

  “So I’m not the last Trevitter?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I don’t feel a sudden urge to clone myself.”

  “That’s not my reasoning. If anyone, I certainly know that children carve their own identities, completely independent of their parents’ wishes. Look what I did to my parents!”

  “Did your mother want you to have grandchildren?”

  Harry looked into Cassandra’s deep blue eyes. She had an uncanny way of seeing right through a situation and understanding him so deeply. He had never considered this but his mother always did ask about a grandson. How could she not - she was Italian! “She did, but not on her deathbed if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not why I want a child.”

  Casey nodded and looked down at their feet, circling the rink in sync. Why had he raised the topic of children at the Christmas tree lighting that she had looked so forward to? They had spent the entire afternoon in front of a crackling fire at their Champagne Suite in the New York Palace, talking about their wedding and the honeymoon without mention of children. Now, he couldn’t stop talking about every detail.

  The more Harry mused about child rearing, the more she wanted to climb the very winding marble staircase she descended hours ago, and escape to the rooftop terrace. There, with views of St. Patrick’s Cathedral and the Manhattan skyline in front of her, her life seemed small, and that notion minimized all the issues, even her gene mutation. Remaining childless had been a bittersweet decision but now that Harry wanted children so badly, she was torn between her own needs and his.

  All Casey could do was smile, but she wondered, if the deep love they shared would be lessened if she ended up not wanting a child.

  Harry grabbed her arms and they spun around on the ice until they circled closer toward one another. “I still can’t believe we were both standing in front of the Rockefeller Christmas tree on December 4th last year.”

  “We were so close. What a Christmas that would have been.”

  “We’re making up for it this year.” Harry winked. “The Twenty-four days of Christmas.”

  Casey grinned. To commemorate this first yuletide celebration together, they were doubling everything. Rather than the Twelve Days of Christmas, they started the Twenty-four days of Christmas on December 1st. She had walked into the living room on that day to see two dozen gifts lying in front of the fireplace.

  It all started when they met on the cruise ship, the Aqua. They had shared childhood memories that included Christmas and it turned out that she and Harry had both gone to particular holiday events till they were well into their teens. Some, they even revisited every year, and would continue to, no matter how old they got. Now, they were doing them together.

  They had stopped spinning now, and Harry wrapped Casey’s scarf around his neck entwining the two of them. “It’s you I want, Cassandra. You’re my Christmas gift.”

  Retracing

  “I CAN’T believe it’s real,” Casey held her finger to the glass and traced each line as if she was writing it herself. “All the years my mom read this to me and made it come alive.”

  She shook her head again and read each line out loud. “A Christmas Carol.” Casey could hear her mom’s voice as she trailed her finger to the next line. “In prose.” She closed her eyes before she continued, seeing her mom’s face, fighting back the tears. “Being a Short Story of Christmas.” As she moved her finger to the fourth line a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Harry put his arm around her and finished the sentence. “By Charles Dickens.” Casey leaned her head against his chest, wondering how many hands the original manuscript had passed through since it was written in the late 1800s. And here she was, with a man who knew her thoughts and loved bringing the memories of Christmas with her mother alive for her.

  Yesterday, after lunch at the Ritz, they had left the old-world ambience and strolled to Wollman Rink, in Central Park and strapped on their skates. Harry crossed his hands in front of hers, and they glided across the ice as figure skaters would before a big leap. It was something they couldn’t do at the Rockefeller Centre with the crowds and at times Casey felt that it was just the two of them under a warm noon sun. Harry had thought of everything including a steaming thermos of hot chocolate from a cafe in the Queen’s. It only had two ingredients but Casey detected bright raspberry and citrus notes when she took a sip of the Madagascar dark chocolate blend. It had been the perfect fifth day of Christmas.

  Two children played hide and seek among the book stacks, and she watched the little boy as he held a hand over his mouth, giggling. He looked like Harry, the jet black hair, the big wide eyes, the strong jawline. If we had a child, he would look like that. If. Casey didn’t trust her own mortality, not since her gene mutation diagnosis. Why should she bring a child into the world if she were to die years later? She didn’t want a son or daughter to suffer without a mother as she did. Nor did she want to leave Harry with the burden of raising their children on his own.

  She looked over at Harry, who was helping the boy hide by blocking the little girl’s view. Was she being fair to Harry?

  Her fear was that he wanted children too badly. He had so many plans to give them a better life and in doing so, he was setting himself up for disappointment. No matter how they raised them, their children would choose a partner he didn’t like, find different paths for employment, adopt their own religion. If she had to admit, Harry reminded her a bit of her father that way. Her dad saw life through his eyes and how he felt it would be best. She knew it was Harry’s wishful thinking at this point, but would he harden over time if his children chose a different path or failed where he succeeded?

  It was yet another time where she missed her mother. She had no idea what her father was like before her mother got sick - Casey had been too young at that time. She had fond memories where her father had been as fun-loving as Harry was, but everything changed when her mother died.

  The thought made her shudder. If Casey were to die of cancer as her mother and aunt did, she would never want it to affect Harry where he would change into a different person. It was yet another reason to keep children out of their life.

  The library bell rang and her face folded. “We have to go.” She pulled away from the glass display.

  “Not you and I.”

  Casey raised an eyebrow at Harry. By this time, after the surprise of a shopping spree along Fift
h Avenue for the third day of Christmas, who knew what he was up to.

  Harry smiled and grabbed her hand. “Come!”

  They’d walked only a few steps when a bookish woman greeted them. “Harry, wonderful to see you again.”

  He kissed the woman on both cheeks, then turned toward Casey. “This is Cassandra.”

  The woman handed her white gloves. “I’ve heard much about you.” She unlocked the case and lifted the glass cover. “You can’t turn the pages, but you can touch it. See it up close.” She turned to Harry. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Merry Christmas.”

  Harry nodded and turned toward Casey who already had tears in her eyes. He whispered in her ear, “Cassandra, I’d give you everything if I could, but this is as close I can get to bringing your mom back.”

  Casey leaned into him, not saying a word.

  Bobbles

  THE LIMO pulled away from the Morgan Library and Casey was still deep in thoughts of her mother. She had such a happy childhood, such a treasured connection with her mother into her teens, and then, it all dissipated.

  For a while she was silent as they drove through streets adorned with lights and red bows, Santas on street corners and candles flickering in windows. Her thoughts turned to her mother’s the last night, when Casey held her hand and her mother came in and out of consciousness. At that point, she didn’t see that well, and all day long Casey described the city, street signs bent over with the weight of snow, glittering lights wrapped around buildings, bushes swallowed up in snowdrifts. All her mother wanted to do was spend one more holiday with Casey but she died late November.

  It was the saddest Christmas Casey ever remembered. The emptiness pervaded a fully decorated Christmas tree, her favorite carols and even her favorite foods. Nothing soothed, not even boxes of chocolates.