‘And just what the two of us need after working for festive shoppers,’ Rosie added. ‘My shoulders are so knotted the therapist will think they’re made of macramé.’
Marnie stretched out her arms. ‘It’s the facial and manicure I can’t wait for. Since the twins arrived my skin and nails have taken a total backseat. I’d like to look less like a wild-woman at the end of it.’
‘You have twins?’ Harri asked. ‘How lovely. Boys or girls?’
‘Both girls. Actually, I have pictures …’
Rosie winked at Bea as Marnie gleefully produced three photograph albums from her cotton tote, thrusting them into a startled Harri’s hands. With her cousin thus occupied for at least the next forty minutes, Rosie grinned at Bea.
‘So, how’s everything with you?’
‘Good. Just so busy, you know.’
‘Tell me about it. I’m starting to question my sanity planning a wedding at our busiest time of the year. That’s why today is such a godsend.’
‘How are the wedding plans?’
‘Better, now that Jake managed to wrangle Dr Steinmann Senior into line.’ Rosie grimaced. ‘The wedding’s at his house and he decided to have a hissy fit about it all. At one point I thought we’d have to call it off. But Jake saved the day.’
‘He’s good at doing that,’ Bea replied, quickly qualifying her remark when she saw Rosie’s eyebrows lift in surprise. ‘He helped Russ and I when our accountant did a moonlight flit without filing our end-of-year accounts.’
‘No! That’s awful. You must have been so worried.’
‘We were. I thought we would lose the business: it was only through Jake’s family’s accountant Doug that we avoided serious trouble. Jake was brilliant.’
‘Sounds like Jake. Speaking of whom …’ Rosie sipped champagne and Bea knew exactly where she was heading next, ‘I hear you two have been having fun in the city.’
Rosie’s question was so good-natured that Bea didn’t mind it. ‘We have. Or, rather we were.’
‘Oh?’
‘Nothing bad, don’t worry. It’s just difficult to find free time with the holidays approaching. I’m sure we’ll manage to do it again when the Christmas rush is over. It’s been nice getting to know him.’
‘Just nice?’ Rosie gave a wry grin.
‘OK, very nice. I like him. And it’s good to spend time with someone who loves this city as much as I do.’
Rosie sipped her glass of champagne. ‘Jake’s a lovely bloke. I’ve always thought so. I’m glad he’s back in New York: Ed loves having him near again. It’s a shame about what happened between him and Jess, though: we got on with her really well.’
‘What is she like?’ If it had been anyone else Bea was talking to, she wouldn’t have dreamed of asking this, but in all the time she had spent with Jake he had spoken little about his former wife. Bea was interested in the kind of woman who had captured Jake’s heart for a significant part of his life.
‘Jess? She’s beautiful, but then anyone who’s ever met her will tell you that. She has an interior design practice and a list of celebrity clients, so their home always looked like something straight out of a magazine. She comes from a wealthy family and I think that was sometimes a cause of tension between her and Jake: he grew up with parents who believed you should earn money and spend it wisely; but she is her daddy’s little princess used to snapping her fingers to get what she wants. That said, I never felt she was spoilt; she just knows what she wants.’
Knowing what she did about Jake, she couldn’t picture him beside the image of his wife Rosie was portraying. Jake was laid-back and witty, as happy in a diner with four-dollar hotdogs as he was in an expensive restaurant. He was well dressed but not obsessed with designer labels. Perhaps it was a case of opposites attracting. ‘You and Ed liked her, though?’
‘Oh yes, Jess was a sweetie whenever we met. And you could tell how in love with her Jake was. I always thought they were the perfect married couple. It’s a shame they broke up, but I suppose you never know what goes on with people behind closed doors.’
Bea kept returning to the image of beautiful Jessica Steinmann as she enjoyed a facial, manicure and the most relaxing massage she’d ever had. She didn’t know why learning about Jake’s ex-wife interested her so much, but it did. The woman who had caused Jake to swear an oath to avoid future relationships must have been considerable to warrant such action.
At three o’clock – pampered, polished and happy – Bea, Rosie and the hen party guests were chauffeured in a beautiful silver Bentley to a chic little English-style teashop two blocks north of Kowalski’s. The interior was more ‘Hollywood-does-Miss-Marple’ than a true reflection of a British café, but it was fun, with jaunty 1940s music and a great atmosphere. Shelves of vintage china teapots lined the walls, pastel-coloured cotton bunting looped across the room and the waitresses wore starched white broderie anglaise aprons and frilled mob-caps. There was much excitement when the owner, Portia, realised she had ‘three genuine English’ in her teashop and her staff then proceeded to bombard Bea, Rosie and Harri with questions for a full thirty minutes.
‘… Did you grow up in a house like Downton Abbey?’
‘… How many servants do you have?’
‘… Is it true that people in England take afternoon tea every day?’
‘… My cousin lives in Berwick-upon-Tweed: do you know her?’
When they were eventually allowed to enjoy their afternoon tea, Harri nudged Bea. ‘I think I’ve disappointed them as a Brit.’
‘You told them you lived in a village,’ Bea said. ‘You earned far more points than Rosie or I did.’
Harri chuckled. ‘You know Stone Yardley: no one could accuse it of being “quaint”.’
‘It’s quirky, though,’ Rosie corrected her cousin. ‘And that’s the next best thing.’
‘Do you miss England, Bea?’ Catriona asked. She had an infectious smile and Bea liked her immensely.
‘Sometimes. But I’ve been living in New York for a long time now, so it feels like home.’
‘If I lived in London, I’d never want to leave,’ Evie said. ‘We visited last spring and I felt like a princess.’
‘Because, of course, all English people live in London,’ Harri whispered, making Bea hide her smile behind a slice of Victoria sponge.
It wasn’t a surprise that Rosie’s friends were so easy to spend time with and Bea was enjoying being part of their easy chatter.
Marnie clinked her china teacup with a teaspoon. ‘Ladies, I’d like to make a toast: to Rosie Duncan, one half of the Upper West Side’s cutest couple!’
‘And her fantastic taste in men!’ Harri laughed.
Rosie giggled as teacups clinked across the table. ‘Oi, hands off! That gorgeous man is mine.’
‘How did he propose?’ Kirsty asked, her eyes sparkling. ‘I don’t recall you telling me.’
The hen party guests agreed loudly, applauding Rosie until she gave in.
‘OK, OK! Well, we were working late on a huge order for a wedding and Ed said he had to go back to the apartment for something he’d forgotten. He’d been weird all day: distracted, vague whenever I asked him anything; and to be honest he was getting on my nerves. I was tired and just wanted done with work so I could go home. I was furious at him for leaving me with the job half-finished and he didn’t come back to Kowalski’s for nearly two hours, which made matters worse. When he walked in I tore a strip off him and I was so angry that we walked home in complete silence.’
‘Didn’t you have any inkling of what he was planning?’ Harri asked. ‘When Alex proposed to me he’d been acting so strangely all weekend that I strongly suspected he was leading up to something.’
Bea noticed the sparkling diamond on Harri’s left hand.
‘I suppose the fact that he’d whisked you both off to Venice at very short notice might have given you a clue as well,’ Rosie smiled.
Harri reddened a little, her red curls falling across her face. ‘Well, ye
s, that helped …’
‘I didn’t have a clue. It was the furthest thing from my mind. Of course, now I look back it was obvious. But not at the time. Anyway, we arrived back at the apartment building – still not talking – and I went inside first. From the lobby to the stairs and all the way up to our apartment pale pink rose petals had been scattered. Ed said nothing, just silently followed me. Then, when I opened the door, I found that he’d filled our entire apartment with white fairy lights, candles and more roses. I have no idea where he‘d got it all from but it explained why he’d been away from Kowalski’s for such a long time.’
Marnie, Harri, Evie, Catriona and Kirsty sighed as one at Rosie’s description. Bea felt their emotion and was moved by Rosie’s expression as she told the story.
‘What did you do?’ she asked.
‘Nothing – for ages. Literally, I just stood there, frozen to the spot, still in my coat and holding my bags, staring at this incredible scene in my apartment. I didn’t know what to say, whether to burst into tears or laugh … It was such a shock. Then Ed moved in front of me and took my hands in his. He told me he loved me more than anyone else he had ever loved and couldn’t imagine his life without being with me. He said a lot of other things as well, but by then I was in tears and so was he. We were wrecks, the pair of us!’
Kirsty dabbed her eyes. ‘Did he do the one-knee thing?’
‘Oh yes. As he knelt down I knew what he was going to ask me and I almost didn’t give him time to produce the ring before I said yes. It was perfect: just the two of us, in our home, promising to share the rest of our lives together.’
‘You’re killing us!’ Catriona exclaimed. ‘You should bring Kleenex whenever you tell that story.’
‘I told you they were cute,’ Marnie grinned. ‘So sweet I couldn’t spend too much time with them during my first trimester for fear of extending the morning sickness.’
As she listened to the women discussing the happy couple, Bea found her heart was heavy. Rosie was so happy she shone, her expression serene and excited when she talked about her fiancé.
That’s how you should look when you’re talking about the man you’re going to marry.
Bea remembered the way Otis had gazed up at her in the restaurant when he was promising her his love. That wide-eyed wonder was the same as she saw in her friend’s expression now. It wasn’t contrived or forced: it was real.
Otis really loved her. He asked her to marry him because, like Ed had said to Rosie in their magically lit apartment, he didn’t want to go through life without her by his side. It was what Bea had longed to hear from him for years; and yet, now he had confessed it in front of her family, she wasn’t sure what to do. They had been happy once. Could they be again?
The party moved to Rosie’s apartment so that everyone could change into evening wear for dinner. Bea hadn’t been here before, but Rosie’s description from her proposal story made it feel familiar. It was strange to be standing in the place where Ed had asked Rosie to marry him, but it also gave Bea further insight into her new friends. Harri made pots of tea as everyone took turns to change in Rosie’s bedroom. Bea changed first and wandered back into the living area to apply fresh make-up.
‘Hey Bea, are you OK?’ Rosie sat beside her on the couch.
‘Yes, I’m having a great time,’ Bea replied. ‘More to the point, are you having fun?’
‘Absolutely. But you’ve been a bit quiet this afternoon. What’s up?’
Bea hesitated. This was Rosie’s day, not hers. She didn’t need the complications of a guest’s love life clouding her enjoyment today. ‘Honestly, it’s nothing.’
Rosie’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t believe you. So this is what’s going to happen: I’m going to give you this,’ she handed Bea a mug of tea, ‘which, as we all know, is the only truth serum that works for English people, and you are going to talk to me. Deal?’
There was no avoiding the topic now, even if Bea didn’t know how to express her muddle of thoughts. ‘I loved hearing how Ed proposed,’ she said. ‘And most of all, seeing how much in love with him you are. It’s a beautiful, rare thing and you should always cherish it.’
‘I will. Thank you. Keep talking, Bea.’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’
Rosie laughed. ‘No, I don’t. And as today is meant to be all about me and you’re sitting on my couch in my apartment, I don’t think you have any grounds to refuse. So – you were saying?’
Bea took a deep breath, trying to summon her thoughts into some semblance of order. ‘I’ve dated for most years since I was seventeen years old and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that kind of love. That’s why not looking for a relationship makes sense to me now. But the thing is, I think I still wonder what it would be like to be loved like that. You know, really loved by someone who can’t imagine not being with me?’ Her words made her cringe and she chastised herself for saying them out loud. ‘I’m sorry. I sound like a daytime soap script.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Rosie said. ‘Thing is, I know where you’re coming from. I spent years telling myself that relationships weren’t for me. Ask Ed – it infuriated him. When I arrived at the florists’ he and Mr Kowalski were forever challenging me about it. But I’d had a bad experience and I thought my chance was over. I told myself I was perfectly fine with it, but in truth I was lonely: too burned by what had happened before and too proud to move on from it.’ Looking straight at Bea, she continued, lowering her tone so that the others couldn’t overhear her. ‘I see that in you, hun. And I know that it’s not a fulfilling way to go through life.
‘Mr K used to tell me that, no matter what I did or where life took me, the most important thing was that I follow my heart. He told me not to give up on the possibility of finding love. For a very long time, I didn’t want to hear it. But now I know he was right all along. I believe it will happen for you, Bea. You just have to take the chance when it arrives.’
Rosie’s words played on Bea’s mind that evening as the hen party – with the added energy of Celia – enjoyed a sumptuous evening meal at a beautiful restaurant on the top floor of a hotel overlooking Central Park. During five courses served by attentive waiters, the group traded laughter and tears over Rosie and Ed’s relationship and forthcoming nuptials. Bea was struck by how moved all the women were by the details of Rosie and Ed’s love story. It was more than friendly affection: every guest at the elegant frosted glass table appreciated why their relationship meant so much. The old man who had established Kowalski’s had certainly been right about Rosie accepting a new chance of love. Bea wondered if it might one day be true for her, too.
‘That couple are made for each other,’ Celia proclaimed loudly, as Rosie blushed and begged her to stop. ‘Although it took long enough for them to realise. But when I think of the guy she could have ended up with …’
‘What guy?’ Kirsty and Catriona chorused.
‘There were several,’ Marnie grinned, ducking as Rosie’s linen napkin flew across the table in her direction.
Rosie laughed, her cheeks pink. ‘You’re meant to be my friends!’
‘Ah, but true friends always speak the truth,’ Celia replied. ‘Don’t worry: I’ll spare your blushes, darling. The fact is you found the one who deserved to love you.’
The laughter around the table became sympathetic exclamations at Celia’s sentiment. Bea turned her head to gaze out across the darkened silhouette of Central Park, dotted with patches of light from the roads traversing it and the skating rink at its centre. New York could steal your breath at any time of the year, but the lead-up to Christmas was Bea’s favourite time of all. It came from the many Manhattan-set Christmas films she had watched as a child and the wonder of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, which she had always longed to see. New York came alive in December with light and life; and when snow fell as it had begun to this evening, no city on earth could compare with it.
She thought about Otis and the surprise of his behavio
ur in recent weeks. Could a parallel be drawn between him and Ed? Certainly both men had been patient in their pursuit of the women they loved. Was Otis her chance of happiness as Ed had been for Rosie?
Bea had hoped that being at the hen party might bring some clarity to her thoughts, but as she returned home that night she felt more confused than ever.
‘It will happen for you,’ Rosie had said.
But how could anything happen when Bea didn’t even know what she wanted?
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Harry’s Bar, Midtown Manhattan
‘A toast! To freedom!’
Raucous cheers met this suggestion as seven considerably inebriated men raised their umpteenth shot glasses and raced to drain them first.
‘But I don’t want freedom,’ Ed protested, wobbling on the top of a bar table like an unsteady tightrope walker. ‘I want Rosie May Duncan from In-ger-land …’ Grinning, he attempted to down his brimming shot of tequila, managing to throw most of it down his dark blue shirt instead. ‘Ooops …’
‘He’s beyond rescue!’ one of the bachelor party guests yelled.
‘So declare him lost already!’ Laughter boomed across the group.
Behind the bar a wry-faced barman pointedly consulted his watch. Jake, nowhere near as drunk as his friends, took the hint and raised his hand.
‘Guys? Guys! I think it’s time we call it a night …’
This was met by a cat’s chorus of impassioned booing.
‘OK, I know, I’m a killjoy. But you fellas have homes to go to and wives and girlfriends waiting for you …’
‘Apart from Lou,’ one guest said, laughing as a short guy next to Ed flicked a hand gesture back at him.
‘Yeah, but I heard Lou’s mom is waiting up!’
‘Plenty of people still live with their parents. I have stats to prove it …’
‘Guys! Lou has stats now …’
‘I can’t go home!’ Ed wailed, as he half-climbed, half-fell off the table and was caught by three of his friends. ‘It’s too full … of women …’
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