by Melissa Hill
However, he knew he needed to be strong for Daisy now, and he couldn’t be constantly mooning over what might have been.
It was now the end of a long week, and he was wrapping up his duties at the university. He left campus and took a cab to the house of one of Daisy’s friends, Tanya. She went there after school each day until Ethan finished lectures.
He knocked on the door and it was answered by Janice, Tanya’s mother. ‘Oh hello, Ethan. Come inside. I’ll get Daisy. The girls are playing upstairs.’
Ethan walked in. He knew the routine. After the girls came downstairs and Daisy collected her things, Janice would try to insist they stay for dinner. Although it was never said, he knew Janice was convinced that Ethan was a clueless bachelor who couldn’t possibly understand his daughter, let alone cook her a good meal.
As soon as the girls thundered into the room, Janice looked at Ethan and smiled. ‘Tell me that you and Daisy will stay for dinner. We have plenty.’
He shook his head apologetically. ‘Thank you again, but Daisy and I have things to do tonight.’
Ethan had planned a fun evening for the two of them. He was going to cook his daughter her favourite meal, and then allow her to eat junk food and stay up late to watch a movie, whatever she liked.
Janice nodded. ‘Well, perhaps another night, then?’ she suggested, a faint note of hope in her voice, and Ethan idly wondered if the woman had taken some kind of shine to him now that he was once again unattached. He hoped not. More woman trouble was the last thing he needed at this point.
‘Ready to go?’ he asked Daisy, who nodded and smiled in agreement.
They left Janice’s house and started their walk home. ‘So how was your day?’ Daisy asked.
He reached out to hold her hand. ‘It was pretty good. The best part, though, is that it’s Friday and I get to spend tonight with my special girl.’
‘And who’s your special girl?’ Daisy asked, looking sideways at him.
‘Well, I don’t know . . . Let me think for a minute,’ he said in a playful tone, figuring she was teasing. Then he looked down and saw that her expression was solemn. ‘Why, you are, silly!’ he insisted, starting to tickle her. ‘Who else?’
She sighed. ‘I wish I knew.’
Ethan regarded his daughter silently. He wondered if this was yet another phase she was going through. Since the incident in Dublin, Daisy had seemed dissatisfied with it being just the two of them. It had never been that way before. He didn’t think she was missing Vanessa or anything; it was more that she was disappointed in him about something.
‘So, what movie do you fancy watching tonight?’ he asked, deciding to change the subject.
Daisy looked up at him as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Are you upset about Vanessa?’ she asked out of the blue.
Ethan looked at her. ‘Of course I was, at first,’ he admitted, realising that his daughter wasn’t in the mood for fun just then. ‘But afterwards I realised we weren’t right for each other.’
Daisy furrowed her brow; she was thinking hard about this statement. ‘So who is right for you, Dad?’
He grinned. ‘You are, buttercup. You know that. You’re the only lady in my life and I’m happy to keep it that way.’
‘What about what happened in New York, though?’ Daisy insisted again. ‘What about the Tiffany’s magic that Mum talked about?’
‘Sweetheart—’
‘And if you say you’re happy just being my dad, then why are you so sad all the time?’
Ethan was slightly taken aback by his daughter’s observation. ‘What makes you think I’m sad?’
Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘Dad, I am not an idiot.’
He raised a small smile; there was nothing like being told off by an eight-year-old.
But she was right. Lately, Ethan had indeed been feeling sad and bereft about something, and he wasn’t entirely sure what that was. The ache of Jane’s absence seemed to have returned, this time stronger than ever, and as each day wore on he wondered how long it would be until those feelings faded and were lost to time. How long would it be until he was truly happy again?
He didn’t know the answer and he figured there was a good chance he would still be thinking about Jane when he was ninety years old, wrinkled and alone.
And if – as Daisy insisted – Jane had been intervening from above to set things right, he truly wished that he understood what she was trying to say.
A woman who’d bake him bread? Ethan didn’t think so. Because, as far as that was concerned, he felt nothing for Rachel Conti other than sympathy.
Back at the town house, while Daisy was in the shower, he set about making dinner. He gathered together all the ingredients for her favourite – chilli con carne – but it was a light meal on its own and Ethan knew he’d need some kind of accompaniment to fill him up. Either that or he would end up gorging himself on chocolate and ice cream later and he knew that wouldn’t go down well with Daisy.
He opened the freezer and rummaged around at the back of it for the frozen garlic bread he kept for situations just like this. Then he paused, spotting the purple wrapping with which by now he was almost too familiar. Half a loaf of bread from Stromboli. He hadn’t put it there, so he deduced it must have been Vanessa who’d frozen the remainder. For posterity, perhaps?
Taking it out, Ethan couldn’t help but think that the place seemed determined to haunt him. Just when he thought he’d left it behind, Stromboli (or at least its bread) reared up again. Still, however it had ended up here, there was no denying that the bread was amazing, and it would go nicely with tonight’s meal.
Ethan put the frozen loaf into the microwave for defrosting. He’d freshen it up by warming it in the oven. He smiled, thinking that Terri would have a heart attack if she could see him now, microwaving her precious bread, particularly this one, which she’d baked especially for him so he could . . .
Suddenly Ethan stopped short. He stared at the loaf, wondering why he hadn’t figured it out before.
Terri.
It was Terri who’d baked him bread, not Rachel.
The same Terri who’d been on his side and had helped him through this entire nightmare, first by returning the ring, then by covering for him in front of Vanessa at the bistro, and again by protecting Daisy from the arguments that ensued . . .
A woman who’d bake him bread.
Ethan raised his gaze skywards. For the first time since his beloved’s death, the cloudiness had lifted and he could finally visualise his future.
‘Thank you, Jane,’ he whispered with a smile. ‘Now I get it.’
Chapter 48
It was a crazy Sunday lunchtime at Stromboli and Terri sorely wished she hadn’t so readily agreed to swap shifts with Rachel today.
But she’d had little choice, given that part of her penance for lying to her friend was that she became ‘her undying slave’ for the next few months.
Terri didn’t care; she was just glad that Rachel had forgiven her, and that things were back to normal around the place.
Well, mostly normal. Rachel and Gary’s wedding was very definitely off, and while they’d begun talking about what had happened, Rachel was unwilling to let him off the hook for what he’d done.
Especially as it seemed this wasn’t the only secret Gary had been keeping from her. He’d now admitted to everything he’d been hiding over the last six months: the fact that his business had practically gone to the wall, he was being hounded and harassed by the bank because of the scale of the debts that had built up, and, perhaps most embarrassing of all for someone like Gary, that he was back living with his mother and had been for some months.
Which of course completely explained Mary Knowles’s shocked and rather annoyed reaction when faced with Rachel’s super-expensive engagement ring on the night of the party, Terri recalled with a smile. Not to mention Gary’s reluctance to introduce Rachel to any member of his family. He was terrified of being made a laughing stock.
‘So by all
accounts that ring brought him about as much luck as it did me,’ Rachel told her.
‘Or Ethan,’ Terri pointed out. ‘So much for the famous Tiffany’s magic.’
For some reason, Terri found herself thinking more and more about Ethan Greene, and that brief moment they’d shared the day everything had gone crazy and he’d decked Gary, partly in her honour.
She knew the idea was stupid and had absolutely no basis in reality, but Terri could no longer trust her own judgement these days. The truth was that she almost missed the drama; missed carrying the secret that only she and Ethan had shared. It was an intimacy of sorts and despite not being especially deep or meaningful (at least as far as Ethan was concerned), she was fully aware of its absence.
She’d also been completely unprepared for how much she’d disliked Vanessa on sight, and how vindicated she’d felt to learn of the woman’s betrayal.
Then there was Daisy, a little girl who was so serious and literal that Terri could understand why Ethan was so eager to give her some stability. The poor thing was terrified of losing her father, which was understandable, given what had happened to Jane.
But now that all the drama was over and things had settled back to normal, she felt dissatisfied and somewhat . . . adrift. Was it because Ethan was out of their lives?
Terri didn’t really understand the feeling and didn’t even want to try to put her finger on what it meant. She was also annoyed with herself for yielding to it, but the fact remained that it was there whether she liked it or not.
Rachel mentioned that she’d spoken to Ethan recently to apologise for all that had happened, and Terri had to do everything in her power to stop herself from picking up the phone too. Of course, she and Ethan no longer had that mutual secret, or any real reason to stay in touch.
Just then Jen, one of the waitresses, rushed through to the kitchen from out front, a harassed expression on her face.
‘Terri, I’m really sorry to do this to you as I know you’re busy, but there’s this customer at the bakery counter giving me terrible grief.’
She frowned. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘Well, he’s complaining about the bread on display, saying it’s stale.’ She shook her head wearily. ‘I don’t know what his problem is, to be honest.’
‘Stale? But everything’s made fresh in the kitchen each morning.’
‘I know, and I told him that, but I think he’s just an asshole really.’ She grinned. ‘Nice-looking, though, although that hardly makes up for it.’
Terri’s eyes narrowed. Nice-looking or not, there was no excuse for being rude to her staff.
‘Anyway he’s insisting the stuff he wants isn’t fresh but won’t accept my assurances that everything we sell is freshly baked.’ She put her hand up to her forehead. ‘He won’t entertain anything from me, to be honest, and is demanding to talk to a manager. Do you mind?’
‘Oh brother!’ Terri could feel the beginnings of a serious headache. She wiped her hands on her apron, repositioned any flyaway hair under her cap and, happy that she looked confident and in control of the situation, prepared to face the music. ‘At the bakery counter, you said?’
Jen nodded apologetically. ‘Sorry.’
Putting on her best managerial smile, Terri went outside and headed directly for the bakery counter near the front of the restaurant. Then, spotting who was standing behind it, she stopped short.
‘Ethan?’ she gasped, her eyes wide. ‘What are you doing here? And Daisy too. Great to see you, but what . . . I think there’s some mistake.’ She looked back towards the kitchen, uncertainly. ‘I mean, my waitress said a customer was complaining.’
He looked at her, his handsome face solemn and unreadable. ‘Yes. As I explained, I’m not at all happy with this bread.’ She was taken aback by his serious tone, but noticed that Daisy wouldn’t look at her and seemed to be trying not to smile.
‘OK. Well, I’m very sorry about that,’ she replied automatically, trying to figure out why he was being so formal. ‘What seems to be the problem?’
This felt very surreal. After everything that had happened, why were Ethan and Daisy back in Dublin at all, let alone complaining about bread from Stromboli’s bakery?
‘It’s not fresh,’ he said, pointing to the sourdough, her sourdough.
‘Of course it’s fresh,’ she replied defensively. And Terri should know too, as she’d spent the best part of this morning baking it.
Daisy started to giggle and Terri felt as though she was the butt of some weird joke.
‘Ask her, Dad!’ she blurted, and then glanced quickly at her father as if she’d said something out of turn.
Terri looked at the little girl, wondering what was going on. Ask her what?
‘Well,’ Ethan began, and there was a smile in his voice, ‘I was wondering if there was any chance you might make a fresh batch.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Perhaps . . . just for me?’ he added meaningfully, and Terri’s heart skipped a beat as she immediately realised exactly what he was referring to.
A woman who’ll bake him bread.
And more importantly, a woman who understood what he was trying to say.
She gulped.
‘You want . . . me . . . to bake . . . for you?’ she asked, her voice robotic as she tried to figure out if this was real or if she was imagining things.
‘Yes, and for Daisy too. If you’d like to, that is.’ Ethan’s voice was gentle and Terri raised her gaze to look at him. His blue eyes were soft and hopeful as they met hers. ‘I know my being in London might be a problem, but I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep it fresh.’
Terri honestly felt like she was in some kind of weird dream. Nothing was making sense any more. She knew what he was saying, knew exactly what he was asking, yet it was the very last thing she’d expected. This kind of thing didn’t happen to her; she hadn’t shared her life with anyone for eight long years.
She stared back at Ethan, not sure where this had come from, or where it was heading; but whatever it was, she already knew she liked it.
Smiling at the man she knew she’d already fallen for, Terri gave him the only answer she could think of. ‘I’ll be happy to bake you two all the bread you want. But I must warn you,’ she added lightly, ‘there’ll be no surprises this time. With me, what you see is what you get.’
‘And it’s exactly what we want,’ Ethan replied gently, reaching for her hand.
Epilogue
Here he was, back in New York again on Christmas Eve. It felt weird – a bit surreal really – but at the same time it felt completely right too.
Hard to believe that it was only a year since he’d last been here. It felt almost like a lifetime, considering. Everything had changed; perhaps most importantly, he had changed. No more running around chasing his tail and trying to keep everything going. Life was much simpler now, much more easy-going.
And it was all down to her.
How had it taken him so long to see what was in front of him? That the key to being happy wasn’t about all those things he’d thought were so important before, but about finding the person who was, as little Daisy joked, ‘the right fit’.
He knew he was unbelievably lucky to have found her at all; but even luckier not to lose her, after all the craziness that had happened in between.
OK, so it had taken him a while to see the wood for the trees, but once he had seen it there was no stopping him.
He paused for a moment and stood back, letting the throngs of passers-by on the street go round him.
He heard a few muted sighs and some not-so-muted mutters of annoyance as people manoeuvred past him, trying to move quickly in the freezing cold. The air was sharp, the temperature in the minuses, and there was a scattering of snowflakes in the sky.
A loud laugh from nearby startled him out of his reverie, and he noticed some tourists taking pictures. A woman piled her dark hair up into a high bun on top of her head and put on a big black pai
r of sunglasses. ‘There! Do I look like Audrey?’ she giggled to her friend.
The distraction helped shift his focus back onto what he was here to do, and taking a deep breath he moved towards the rotating doors.
‘Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to Tiffany’s,’ a man in a top hat greeted him when he was inside.
‘Thanks.’ He smiled in return and quickly glanced around.
It was mad to be back here again after everything that had happened, especially given the luck that his last visit had brought him. But at the same time, how could he go anywhere else?
This time would be different, though. This time he knew exactly what he wanted.
He gulped when he thought again about the money side of it, but it would be a fair exchange.
He’d put much more thought into it this time, and was going to get her something that suited her, something she could wear while at work, or wear anywhere really. He just hoped that she wanted to wear it.
Half an hour later, he reappeared on Fifth Avenue, clutching the little Tiffany’s shopping bag like his life depended on it. The snow was falling heavier now and he gave a little laugh as he watched the sea of yellow taxis snaking along the road.
This time, he was taking no chances.
He turned right and headed towards the park. It must be strange for her being here too; she had taken some convincing about the trip, and he supposed he could understand that too. But if all went well, maybe they could make a Christmas visit to New York a new tradition? He shook his head. There he was, getting ahead of himself again, he thought ruefully, instead of just seeing how things went.
Heading into Central Park, he walked slowly along the side of the lake towards the Wollman ice rink, where they’d agreed to meet. From his vantage point he could see that she was already there, standing off to the side a little.
As he approached, she looked up and smiled at him. ‘How incredible is this? Snow on Christmas Eve . . .’ Then her words trailed off as her gaze dropped to his side. ‘What have you been up to?’ she asked, her eyes widening.
