Christmas at Tiffany's (25 page)

Luke nodded tersely. ‘It sure is a heck of a list,’ he said reluctantly.

She stood up. ‘It sure is.’ She extended a hand to Robin. ‘Thanks so much for your time, Robin. I’m sure you’ve got a lot more to be getting on with besides chaperoning a Brit abroad.’

He shook his head, laughing. ‘Not at all. It’s always intriguing to get caught up in Henry’s adventures.’ He smiled, shaking her hand, then Luke’s. ‘And before I forget, he told me to give you this.’

He handed over a small square white envelope. Inside was a charity Christmas card with a robin on the front. She opened it and read the message.

‘Oh my,’ she murmured, looking up at Luke.

‘What now?’ he asked, dread hanging off his words like cobwebs.

She handed it over to him.

‘Do you think he’s got me a present?’ she asked excitedly.

‘No,’ Luke said flatly.

She deflated like a burst tyre. ‘Oh. But why not?’

‘You said he was just a friend.’

‘He is.’

‘I don’t buy my friends presents from Tiffany’s, Cass,’ he said pointedly.

‘You don’t buy your girlfriends presents from Tiffany’s either,’ she teased. ‘But you can rectify it whilst we’re there, if you like,’ she laughed, pulling his arm into her.

‘I’m not happy with this,’ he said in a low voice. Jealousy bounced off him like sparks.

‘
He’s just an old friend
, and
he’s engaged,’ she reassured him for the umpteenth time as she checked her watch. ‘You should see his fiancée. In fact, you’ve probably photographed her.’ And she shook Robin’s hand again and bounded back through the stacks, hell-bent on getting to Fifth Avenue before the store closed for Christmas.

There was only half an hour till closing time once they got there, but it was as busy as if it was the first day of the sales. Every counter was crammed, mainly with men in heavy cashmere overcoats and pensive expressions making costly last-minute purchases in the hope that the ‘wow factor’ of the distinctive blue box would compensate for any lack of originality on their part.

‘What now?’ Luke asked, stopping just inside the doors. He had settled into a belligerent sulk, thoroughly put out that he and his girlfriend were making their first pilgrimage here under another man’s instructions – even if he was only a
friend
.

‘I’m not sure,’ Cassie said reverently, taking in the scene. Everything was exactly as she’d seen it in films – the cherrywood cabinets and glass counters gleaming under the lights, a mammoth Christmas tree at the back of the shop with boxes artfully scattered all around. It did utterly epitomize the mega-watt glamour of New York society. ‘I guess we . . . mingle. Become part of it all.’

Luke shot her a puzzled look, but she just shrugged. As a native, he didn’t see it the way she did. It was just a store, about to close for the holidays. But to her – for whom Christmas shopping had meant new Arans from the farmer’s wife – it was the embodiment of all her city fantasies. Behind her, a choir from Harlem was singing carols beneath the massive crystal Baccarat UNICEF snowflake. In front, staff were circulating, offering flutes of champagne and truffles to customers as they browsed. Cassie felt as steeped in traditional Christmas cheer as a pear in port.

Luke shrugged and wandered off, preferring to shop on his own, and Cassie made a point of not watching him. She’d only been joking about him buying her a gift here – after all, he must surely have bought her present by now. But then, if he was anything like the dozens of men here, leaving it till the last minute . . .

She began walking slowly round the store, peering into the cabinets she could get close to. An assistant offered her a glass of champagne while she browsed, and she accepted as happily as if she’d been among friends. She admired highly polished silver bone cuffs by Elsa Peretti, jewel-bright cabochon rings by Paloma Picasso, diamonds sold by the yard, gold mesh collars that draped like velvet, and of course the famous engagement rings which glittered like the royal jewels in the centre of the store.

Steadily, as the clock ticked towards closing time, the crowds began to thin out, and Cassie looked around for Luke. She saw him examining a ribbon-patterned cheese plate, which she hoped to goodness he was buying for his mother.

She accepted another glass of champagne and ambled slowly towards the giant Christmas tree to wait for him and listen to the carols. The choir really was excellent. She was determined to hoover up every last atom of Christmas in New York.

She looked up at the tree, just about the only thing in the store she hadn’t scrutinized. It was tall and plush with needles, with empty boxes of every size piled around the foot, adorned with sumptuous white satin bows that blossomed atop the lids. It was like stepping into a fantasy, and she wished she was wearing a cocktail dress and chignon, rather than jeans and a—

She blinked and looked more closely, blinking again for good measure. But her eyes weren’t deceiving her – for there, beneath the tree, in beautiful trademarked-blue, was an enormous box with a card dangling from the ribbon, and on it her name.

She bent over and stared at it more closely. It couldn’t be! And yet it was. Her name.

Cassie Fraser.

She looked around furtively – probably sending security into overdrive – and went to pick it up.

Instantly, a man was at her side. He didn’t say anything or make a scene – his hands were behind his back, his chin up, eyes ahead – but it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere with that package.

‘It is not permitted to touch the display, madam,’ he said quietly.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Cassie said apologetically, her voice almost a whisper. ‘But it just took me by surprise.’ She pointed to the label. ‘You see, that’s my name. That’s
me
!’

The man didn’t look at it. He just kept his eyes on the shop floor. ‘You’re Cassie Fraser?’

‘I am!’ she confirmed in a hurried whisper, feeling like a spy.

‘Are you able to produce some identification to corroborate that, madam?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, rummaging in her bag for her purse. She pulled out her credit cards and driver’s licence. ‘See?’

The man finally looked at her. His eyes flicked down towards the name on the cards and a smile crept on to his face. ‘We thought you weren’t going to make it in time,’ he said. ‘We’ve had someone on watch all day for you.’

‘You have?’ Cassie was amazed. Tiffany’s had been waiting for
her
?

‘Oh yes. The gentleman was insistent that you must not pass unnoticed. You gave us all quite a scare. I was not looking forward to having to ring him and tell him you’d slipped through our fingers.’ He gave a sigh of relief and beamed at her. ‘Let me put that in a bag for you.’

He picked up the box and led her over towards the counter in the middle of the store. A massive chandelier bathed her in its glow as she watched him pull out another extravagant length of ribbon and began double-wrapping the box with flamboyant flourishes so that it shimmered silkily within its satin trusses. He slid it into the biggest bag they must surely produce and handed it to Cassie.

‘Thank you for spending Christmas at Tiffany’s,’ he smiled.

Cassie gasped, scarcely able to believe that he was actually going to give her the bag, just as Luke walked over, a more modest-sized bag in his hand. His eyes popped at the sight of Cassie’s parcel.

‘Don’t tell me he got you
that
!’ he exclaimed jealously.

‘It was under the tree!’ she trilled, as though that made it doubly exciting, and not just the fact that it was absolutely huge and from Tiffany’s.

‘You said he was engaged!’ he protested, furious. ‘It doesn’t look like his mind’s on his fiancée this Christmas.’

‘Oh Luke, you have nothing to worry about,’ she beamed, squeezing his arm excitedly. ‘You haven’t seen his fiancée.
I’d
marry her.’ She turned to the sales assistant. ‘Thank you
so
much for all your help.’

‘A pleasure, madam,’ he said, amused by her excitement. ‘And Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas to you,’ Cassie beamed happily. The man smiled as he watched her go, the bag swinging in her hand, boyfriend sulking by her side.

She couldn’t wait till the next day to open it. Not a chance. The moment they got back to the loft and she placed it excitedly beneath the tree, she started pacing around it like a mental patient. It was so big! But so light! And so blue! Who could resist the blue? What could it be?

‘You know, we always opened one present on Christmas Eve when I was growing up,’ she lied, sidling over to Luke as he mixed them each a martini.

‘That’s a Scandinavian tradition,’ he replied, eyes narrowed to slits, even though he was just as curious as she was to discover what was inside the giant box.

‘Is it?’ she blinked, all wide-eyed innocence.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, we’ve always admired . . . Scandinavia.’

‘Really?’ he drawled. ‘All the way from Hong Kong?’

‘Oh, yeeessss. We just . . . love Ikea! And Daddy always drove Volvos!’ she sputtered, delighted with her logic.

‘So open mine then,’ he said.

Her face fell as he called her bluff.

‘Oh fine! Fine! Open it then! You’re only going to drive us both mad if you don’t.’

Cassie clapped her hands together excitedly and gave a little shriek, running over to get it from the tree.

They sat together on the sofa as she gently tugged at the ribbons. They fell away easily and she lifted the lid off the box. She peered in.

Luke watched her face, keeping his impassive.

‘So? What is it? A baby hippo? A JCB?’

‘It’s . . .’ She reached her arms in . . . ‘another box,’ she whispered, lifting out a smaller – but still pretty big – box.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise – or perhaps relief, Cassie thought. Again, Cassie pulled at the ribbons, her small white teeth biting down on her lower lip as she lifted the lid again.

More silence.

‘And?’ Luke asked. He looked as if he wanted to rip the damn boxes open himself.

She looked up at him. ‘Another box.’

A small smile of satisfaction began to spread across Luke’s face as box after box revealed an ever smaller box within. ‘Maybe he’s just giving you boxes for Christmas,’ he quipped.

Finally Cassie lifted out what must be the last small box. It sat in the palm of her hand, and both knew this was it. The boxes – and there must have been twelve of them – couldn’t shrink in size any further.

Cassie opened it slowly and a sudden spasm of fear crossed Luke’s face. The box was ring-sized.

‘Oh!’ Cassie gasped. ‘It’s a necklace!’

Relief flooded Luke’s face and he gave a generous beaming smile at the news. ‘Let me see.’

She turned the box towards him. A silver padlock, like the kind you saw on young girls’ charm bracelets, was strung upon a delicate chain. ‘Oh,’ he said, nodding vaguely. ‘Nice.’

‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said, lifting it out. ‘Here, will you fasten it for me?’

She lifted her hair and he clasped the necklace around her neck. The padlock felt weighty upon the chain, and she went to hold it in her hand, but it fell.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, shifting position to see where it had fallen. She found it and tried reattaching it to the chain, but although the arm closed, it wouldn’t lock into position. She took it off again and studied the mechanism. There was a keyhole, like a real padlock. ‘Is there a key in the box?’ she asked.

Luke checked. ‘No. Why?’

‘Huh. I just can’t get this to lock properly. It looks like there should be a key with it.’

Luke checked again but there was no key. ‘Nothing doing,’ he shrugged, taking the padlock from her and studying it himself.

‘Tch, that’s a shame,’ she sighed. ‘I guess I’ll have to go back in after Christmas and exchange it for another one.’

‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to,’ Luke said after a minute. ‘There’s some kind of personalized message on the back.’

‘There is?’ Cassie gasped, clambering forwards. ‘What does it say?’

Luke squinted. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’ He looked up at her. ‘Does “Maiden’s Blush” mean anything to you?’

‘Maiden’s Blush?’ she echoed. ‘No! I have
no
idea what that means.’

‘It sounds medieval,’ he said.

Cassie pondered on the words – was it a book title? A song from their past perhaps? But it rang no bells. She just couldn’t think what he was alluding to.

Next to her, Luke began to shake with laughter.

‘What? What’s so funny?’ she demanded, mildly irritated. She felt disappointment rising up in her, that after all the treasure-hunt clues and the excitement of the boxes-within-boxes, the trail had led to a faulty padlock and a cryptic message.