The Charm Bracelet

by HILL, MELISSA

  She nodded, trying her utmost not to betray how she was feeling. ‘You assume right.’

  ‘So that’s why you tried so hard to get it back,’ Greg said. ‘I was wondering about that.’

  ‘This bracelet – it’s the story of my life really.’

  Greg smiled. ‘Well then it gives you an unfair advantage.’

  ‘How so?’ she asked, curious about his meaning.

  ‘Well, you already know a lot of the stories behind the charms on my mother’s bracelet … so I’m thinking you should let me buy you that drink, right now, and tell me your stories so we have a level playing field.’

  He looked expectantly at her but Holly had already fallen under his spell. . She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here sharing drinks and stories with handsome men, she was supposed to be working. But she couldn’t resist the idea that something - and not just the bracelet – had drawn her here, to Greg. Almost as if to reiterate this, right then, the music changed, and recognising the song she gave a little laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Greg asked.

  ‘That song – it’s my favourite song in the whole world, and I’m just thinking about what my son said about it the last time I heard it.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said it was a song about pizza,’ she smiled, as the sound of Dean Martin’s ‘Amore’ filled the room.

  ‘Well, I suppose he’s right in a way,’ Greg said, chuckling. ‘He sounds like a sensible guy.’

  ‘Sensible, Danny?’ Holly scoffed at the thought.

  ‘Well, OK then, if you won’t let me buy you a drink, then let me have this dance. Seeing as it’s your favourite song … ’

  Holly looked around at these people, the beautifully dressed women and rich, handsome men. Never in a million years did she think she’d be amongst people like these in a place like this. Wearing a dress like this. With a gorgeous man who wanted to dance with her.

  ‘Just say yes,’ Greg said, closing the space between them and reaching for her hand. This wasn’t her world and would never be her world, but maybe like Carole said, the dress deserved another great memory?

  And as a matter of fact, so did she.

  Feeling impulsive, (and unable to resist Greg’s smile) Holly held out her hand. ‘OK.’

  And as she danced around the Reading Room in the New York Public Library to that wonderful song, with a gorgeous man she’d only just met, she guessed Anna Bowery would approve.

  As Greg held her hand up while they moved, Holly’s bracelet dropped down along her arm and into her field of vision. She smiled realising that she certainly wouldn’t need a charm to remember tonight – this particular memory would be with her for the rest of her life. And in the end, wasn’t it also the links - the people, the love and the memories – and not just the charms, that made the bracelet complete?

  The song was just about to come to an end, when another man tapped Greg on the shoulder.

  ‘Son, I’m going now. I’ll see you later. Happy New Year.’

  ‘Oh Dad, I didn’t realise the time,’ Greg said, turning but not letting go of Holly. ‘I was hoping to talk to you before you go. This is Holly,’ he said to the man whom he quickly introduced as his father, Jeff.

  The man’s eyes twinkled with humour and warmth. Rather like Greg’s, she thought as he shook her hand. ‘Holly, so lovely to meet you.’ He looked at Greg. ‘This is the lovely lady who was keeping Mom’s bracelet safe for us?’

  ‘Yes, I have it here actually.’ Greg reached into his pocket and handed it to Jeff.

  ‘This is just wonderful. On behalf of my wife – Holly, how can I ever thank you?’

  ‘It’s no problem, really. And I think your son is doing a pretty good job of that,’ she smiled, meeting Greg’s warm gaze.

  When Jeff had taken his leave and they continued dancing slowly across the floor, Holly looked at Greg, confused.

  ‘Where’s your dad going?’ she asked. ‘By my watch it’s another twenty minutes till countdown.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Greg said with a knowing smile. ‘But Dad has a standing appointment every December thirty-first, and there’s somewhere he needs to be.’

  Chapter 41

  Jeff Matthews walked out of the library and made his way further up Fifth Avenue, his wife’s bracelet safely in his pocket.

  It was fitting, he thought, that they’d got it back.

  Just in time.

  Checking his watch once more, he quickened his pace and made his way along the street, past the stores and office buildings, his footsteps echoing on the footpath as he walked.

  Reaching St Patrick’s Cathedral, he noticed the car parked outside and tears came to his eyes.

  She had made it. Despite her pain, despite the medication, and frail as she was, his beloved wife still hadn’t let him down.

  As she never had throughout their entire wonderful life together.

  Their standing appointment at St Patrick’s Cathedral at midnight every 31 December had begun the night of their wedding all those years ago. Jeff and Cristina had been married at midday in St Patrick’s Cathedral, and following the wedding celebrations they had returned that very night to give thanks for their happiness, not knowing that it would be a tradition that would last for over forty years.

  Jeff had been reluctant that Cristina should try to keep to the appointment this year, what with the second bout of illness.

  But his brave (and obstinate) wife wasn’t hearing any of it.

  ‘An hour or so out of that stupid bed won’t kill me,’ she had insisted, when Jeff tried to convince her not to leave the apartment and forget about the tradition – just this once.

  She was such a trooper really. Nothing fazed her, not the illness, the chemotherapy, and now the radiotherapy she had been having these last few weeks, which had kept her holed up in the bedroom of their Park Avenue apartment.

  The morphine was making her sleep so much that she was in and out of consciousness most days. Jeff was worried, but the doctors proclaimed that the therapy seemed to be working well, and the cancer slowly abating. It had been a hugely stressful and worrying few months, but given time, his wonderful wife might well be on the road to recovery.

  Going up the steps, Jeff knocked lightly on the door, and waited as it opened a fraction.

  Father Mike was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know how I let you two keep talking me into this,’ the priest said. ‘Ever single year … ’

  ‘Is she here?’ Jeff asked.

  ‘Yes, sitting in the last pew. Maria’s with her.’

  ‘Thanks Mike, you know how much this means to us – especially now.’

  ‘Yes. I know,’ Father Mike shook his head indulgently. ‘And actually I think it’s wonderful.’

  Going inside, Jeff approached his wife and took her hand. ‘Ready sweetheart?’ he said. ‘It’s almost midnight.’

  Cristina turned around and, despite her frailty, gave him a radiant smile that reminded him of how she’d looked on their honeymoon in Florence all those years ago. Like a movie star.

  ‘Of course.’

  Taking her hand, Jeffaided by Maria led his beloved wife to the back of the church, towards the area where the candles stood.

  And as the midnight bells began to toll, signalling the end of one year and welcoming another, as always Jeff and Cristina Matthews lit a candle to celebrate all the things for which they were thankful that year, and the good things they hoped would come in the next.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Jeff said, when they’d finished the yearly ritual. He reached into his pocket. ‘I have something for you … ’

  Cristina’s eyes lit up as she set eyes on her treasured bracelet. She looked at her husband. ‘But how … ?’

  He shook his head. ‘Seems you lost it somehow. How we got it back is a complete mystery.’

  Cristina smiled knowingly. ‘Oh, I think you’d be surprised …’

  A bell jingled happily behind me as I entered the charming little
vintage store in Greenwich Village. I never knew this place was here, and I wish I’d discovered it before. I looked around at the beautiful displays and the gorgeous clothes.

  It was then I realised I wasn’t alone.

  ‘Hi! Welcome to The Secret Closet’ a cheery voice sang out. I turned my attention towards the register and saw a striking young woman with sparkling green eyes smiling brightly at me. ‘Can I help you find anything?’

  I shook my head. The last thing I needed, especially now, was more clothes, but still I smiled back.

  ‘Oh, I’m just looking. There are some beautiful things here. Your store is very nice,’ I said as I browsed.

  ‘Well, thank you. It’s not my store, per se, but I feel like it is sometimes.’

  I walked in her direction, looking around at the clothes as much as I was looking at her. ‘You know, a lot of these clothes, they remind me of another time. My youth.’

  The young woman became wistful. ‘I know, isn’t it amazing? Clothes are like magic. Every time we get a new shipment in and someone asks us to sell some of their wardrobe, I wonder about what those garments might have experienced, what they have been through, what they have seen.’

  I looked at the spark in the young woman’s eye and understood exactly what she was talking about.

  ‘I agree with you. I never understood people who would just go in for the latest trend or fad. These clothes,’ I said motioning around me and thinking of Karen, with her penchant for the latest and greatest, ‘these clothes have lived. They’re like works of art.’

  She was nodding her head vigorously now. ‘Yes, they’re old souls. That’s what I always say.’

  I regarded her quietly as I circled around the store; I had a feeling that this young woman might be an old soul, too.

  ‘Have you worked here long?’ I inquired.

  ‘Yes, four years now. I know it’s a while to work in one place, but really, I love it. And I figure you should do what you love, shouldn’t you? Life’s too short to settle for a job you don’t enjoy.’

  I paused, considering her words, and what I just learned from my doctor, what I had not shared with anyone, not yet. ‘Yes, life is too short.’ I neared the counter where she stood. ‘I might actually have some clothes that I would be willing to donate. How does that work?’

  She smiled and reached under the counter for a business card. ‘Well, anything you have you can ship directly here, or if you call, we can send someone to pick it up. We pay a commission on anything that we sell and—’

  I waved a hand. ‘I don’t need a commission.’

  ‘OK, in that case, that’s fine too – we automatically donate the commission to charity. Again, you can ship to us or we can pick up.’

  I regarded the young woman for a minute more. She had to be around Greg’s age. I liked her; she was sparkling, vibrant, so full of life. Why, oh why, couldn’t he meet a girl like this?

  A girl who laughed and understood the wonder in life and who made people feel warm just by being around her. But what were the chances of his path crossing with hers? Slim to none at best, especially in this city of millions.

  ‘I’m Cristina Matthews,’ I said. ‘It’s nice to meet you … ’

  She held out her hand. ‘Holly, Holly O’Neill. Lovely to meet you, too.’

  It was then that I noticed her bracelet. It was a charm bracelet, just like mine.

  ‘I really like your bracelet. I have one very like it. I’ve been collecting charms my whole life. I usually have it on, but it’s having a new charm fitted at the moment.’ I smile, thinking of Jeff’s hopeful Date to Remember charm. We’ll see …

  She smiled and shook my hand. The charms jingled around her wrist. ‘It’s fun, isn’t it? Many of these were given to me over the years but I collected some myself, too. And I find that anytime I feel lonely, or feel sad, all I have to do is look down and I realise I am carrying all kinds of memories with me, most of them filled with joy and meaning. I suppose that when you think about life like that, it’s hard to be sad, isn’t it?’

  I felt my eyes temporarily well up. ‘Do your charms only highlight the happy times though?’ I asked.

  She thought for a moment and then looked down. She played with a charm or two and then settled on a pair of dice, twirling it around her fingers. Then she returned her gaze to me. ‘No, they’re not all happy, but even the bad stuff in life can teach you something, shape you. After all, every story has both good and bad in it, and life can be like that too. I guess it’s what we take away from it that counts. You wouldn’t be able to appreciate the happy times, if you didn’t sometimes experience some sad times as well. At least, that’s what I think,’ she added, blushing a little self-consciously. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  ‘Are all of the charms on your bracelet happy?’

  I shook my head and thought about one of my most recent additions, the breast cancer ribbon. It wasn’t a happy reminder, but it was a lesson. ‘No, they aren’t all happy,’ I admitted. ‘But they’ve made me the person I am today.’

  She smiled at me. ‘Me too. My son always jokes that the story of my life is laid out on this bracelet. He’s almost ten.’

  ‘A son, how lovely? I have a son too. Yours sounds wonderful.’

  ‘He is.’ She paused a little and said the next words almost under her breath. ‘I just wish his father realised it.’

  ‘You’re no longer with his father?’

  She looked up, as if forgetting herself. ‘No, not since before he was born. It’s hard sometimes but I do the best I can. At least I hope it’s the best.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you doing anything other than your best.’

  She grinned. ‘You should hear my boss, she thinks I’m a bit crazy. Especially when I try to tell her the stories I imagine behind all these clothes.’

  I smiled, realising how much I liked this girl and how much she reminded me of myself when I was younger. Happy and optimistic, and so open and enthusiastic about her joy for life. I try my best to be that way still, but it can be hard sometimes. Yet, I have to believe that I’ll get better. I refuse to not believe it. It’s the only way I’m managing to get through this.

  ‘It’s funny how things turn out sometimes, isn’t it?’ I said.

  Holly had a quizzical expression on her face but smiled, probably wondering if she was dealing with a crazy woman, but yet I had a point I was trying to make.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘How something as simple as, for instance, walking in a store like this instead of just passing by, affects things? Like, if I hadn’t decided to walk in here today, I wouldn’t have met you and I wouldn’t have known just how wise you are. Such a small thing.’

  Holly smiled. ‘It is. And it might be a small thing, but I’ve always believed that every little moment leads us to where we are going where we are supposed to be. It’s a big old world, but we are all just waiting to bump into one another, stumble across our next great adventure. Sometimes, we just get a push in the right direction.’

  Her words struck a chord with me. Especially the bit about a push in the right direction.

  She picked up a shirt and started to fold it and, as I watched her, an idea began to form in my mind.

  ‘Well, it was so nice to meet you Holly,’ I said, turning to leave, the idea burning strongly in my brain. Yes, it was a long shot and beset with risks, but that never stopped me before. And just like Holly, I’ve always been a big believer that life has a way of working things out. ‘I’ll certainly be sure to send some clothes.’

  ‘That’s great! I’ll look out for them. I’m sure you have some wonderful things and I can’t wait to see what you send. And don’t worry, I’ll try not to guess too hard about the stories behind them. Although, now that I’ve met you, I know they’re sure to be lovely ones.’ She gave a little wave. ‘It was great meeting you, Cristina. Have a lovely day.’

  ‘You too. And please, let your
imagination go wild, I don’t mind. But do look out for them, and make sure you look closely at each and every piece.’ I smiled as I reached for the handle. ‘You just never know what you might find.’

  THE END

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  A GIFT TO REMEMBER

  Chapter 1

  ‘She is too fond of books and it has turned her brain’

  Louisa May Alcott

  Anyone who says that money can’t buy happiness has clearly never been inside a bookstore. And certainly not one like Chaucer’s Darcy Archer thought, glancing fondly around the gorgeous place she was lucky enough to work in.

  The space was snug and inviting with a vaguely Dickensian feel to it; by way of its floor to ceiling hardwood shelves and filigreed gold signwriting above each section. The Victorian panelled bay window and festive-themed window display evoked old-fashioned storefronts of times gone by, as did the wrought iron scroll-effect purple-on-gold store sign hanging just outside the entrance.

  Catering to its well-heeled Upper West Side neighbourhood, the little shop carried an eclectic mix of carefully hand-picked modern literature in a variety of genres, early edition classics as well as popular bestsellers for adults and children. A quiet and contemplative space, book lovers and gift-seekers alike adored Chaucer’s cheerful, experienced staff and pleasurable browsing experience. Its homey comfortable atmosphere made it the perfect place to spend an afternoon wandering amongst the shelves or hunting down an elusive title.

  At this time of year, with just over a week to go before Christmas, the store was decked out in its holiday finest; fairy lights strung along the shelves, homemade glitter snowflakes hanging from the exposed rafters above, and the evocative aroma of cinnamon cocoa wafting from the tiny café on the first floor mezzanine.