Falling in Love in New York (29 page)

“Lyndsay has her moments too,” Finn scowled. “As I told you before, we all used to get on in our younger days but I’ve got nothing in common with them anymore. The lads only want to talk about business and property and boast about how much money they’re making, while the wives just bitch and backstab one another. I just couldn’t be bothered with all that stuff anymore.” He looked at her and smiled. “There are more important things in my life now.”

Abby smiled back and eventually, they went to sit together on the sofa.

“Were you that mad at me that you were really planning on getting rid of everything?” he asked then. “The diaries, letters and photographs, the entire file?”

Abby nodded, a lump in throat. How could she admit now that she had
already
deleted the computer archive?

“You were willing to just wipe me out of your life, without giving me a chance to explain? Abby, I love you, surely you know that?”

Abby’s heart leapt. He
loved
her?

“I was angry and hurt, and oh I’m sorry,” she gasped now, tears in her eyes.
Oh God, what had she done?
“I’ve made such a mess of everything.” Now she had no choice but to admit the truth. “I deleted the entire memory chest archive Finn,” she said, afraid to meet his gaze. “It’s all gone.”

“What?” Finn jumped up from the sofa. “Show me.”

Going to her computer, he pulled out a chair and sat in front of it while Abby bit her lip, waiting for him to bawl her out for doing something so stupid.

But instead, Finn smiled.

“You deleted the file from the desktop?” he asked.

“I know, I’m sorry, I should have thought more about it first, but I was so angry and I just wanted to–”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said, cutting her off. “Don’t worry, you didn’t remove it all completely; it’s still in the recycle bin–look.”

“What?” Abby stared in amazement as he clicked on the desktop’s
Recycle Bin
icon, where inside the file named ‘Memory Chest’ was still intact. Then, within the click of a few keys, it was right back in its original location. 

“The recycle bin … I never even knew it existed!” Abby said, now feeling like she’d won the lottery. She
hadn’t
deleted the archive; it was still there, every last bit of it!

Finn grinned, and put an arm around her waist.

“Honey, you aint getting rid of me that easily.”

There was no room for mistakes. This had to be perfect–
better
than perfect if it was to work at all. Finn had gone over the plans so many times, he was now seeing it all unfold in his sleep. It would be perfect and with any luck, if would work. It had to work, didn’t it?

Abby’s reaction to what had happened at the wedding a few weeks back had really galvanised him into action. He loved her and needed her to believe that. But with everything else that was happening she was hesitant and so insecure about his feelings towards her. Which merely made Finn even more determined to prove to her and everyone else that they could have a relationship–a normal relationship–just like any other couple.

He’d arranged a weekend in Paris; just the two of them and they were due to leave this coming weekend.

“Are you absolutely sure about what you’re doing?” Pat had said, questioning him yet again. “Because this is something you need to be in for the long haul.”

“I know that Dad, and it holds no fear for me.” Finn didn’t intend to make this sound as though he was getting at his father for not being in it for the long haul with his mother, but he couldn’t help it if his father decided to take it that way.

As for his mother, now that he knew the truth he was sure he’d try and locate her at some stage, but not just yet. There were too many other important things going on in his life at the moment and he didn’t want to make it any more complicated just yet.

No, Finn’s intentions now were to remove any uncertainty or insecurity where Abby were concerned and for them, to make life a whole lot simpler.

And with any luck, perhaps someway memorable too.

Paris!
Abby couldn’t wait. She was so looking forward to getting away just her and Finn with no worrying mothers and disapproving fathers in the background.

While she was by now used to Teresa’s over-protectiveness, Pat Maguire’s reaction to their relationship had been hard to take. Finn had confessed all about his father’s reservations shortly after their heart-to-heart about Danielle.

“From now on, I want everything to be out in the open with us, so you might as well know,” he’d told her. While at the time she hadn’t been aware that Pat was dead-set against their relationship, she’d gathered from the few brief times she’d met him that he’d had his concerns. “But you should also know that what he thinks doesn’t affect anything” Finn went on. “I love you, and I know we can make this work. We already have.”

While Pat seemed a very lovely man, there was no denying that he felt their relationship was a bad idea. But given what Finn had discovered about his mother, perhaps this was understandable ...

Yet Abby was nothing like an alcoholic; she was well in control of her own moods and feelings and while of course having to keep a diary of every little thing just in case she’d forget it wasn’t exactly normal, she was doing her best. The problem was that Pat Maguire’s reaction had merely highlighted her own worries and insecurities about their relationship, and what might happen if her memory loss got any worse. But Finn didn’t seem to worry about it, so perhaps she shouldn’t either.

Late Friday evening, they arrived at their hotel, a romantic Baroque building central to all the popular Parisian sights, and had a nice quiet dinner there before heading out afterwards to visit the Eiffel Tower. Having taken the obligatory photographs, they decided in the end not to take the elevator up to the observatory as the queues were a mile long, but to Abby the beautifully majestic gold-lit structure made the views just as good from ground level.

Then, the following morning after breakfast Finn suggested they pay a visit to the Montmartre area, which according to him was supposed to be pretty and very Parisian, what with its authentic cobblestone streets and maze of narrow alleyways.

Here, they spent some time exploring the magnificent Sacre Coeur Basilica and its surroundings, and having savoured yet another of the most spectacular sights of the French capital, they wandered hand-in-hand for a while before eventually strolling over to Place du Tertre.

“Oh look,” Abby cried with delight. It was very touristy but at the same time so uniquely French that she couldn’t help but be impressed. The square was full of French painters and artists dressed in authentic Parisian garb with their striped T-shirts, neck handkerchiefs and black berets. As they ambled along enjoying the buzz and atmosphere, one of the painters approached them.

“Monsieur, Madam, I paint your portrait?” he said, in that gorgeous French accent.

Certain that Finn wouldn’t be at all into that kind of thing, Abby was taken aback when he enquired about the price.

“Ten euro Monsieur,” the artist told him.

“Sounds good, why don’t you go for it?” he said to her.

“Me?”

“Hey, you’re the photogenic one around here!” he joked modestly. “Anyway, you know how I can’t sit still for long whereas you can, and of course, we can use this as one of your mementos.”

Abby smiled, liking the idea of an unusual keepsake, so the artist–who told them his name was Pierre (what else?) –set her up on a tiny stool before sitting down in front of his easel and getting to work.

“I hope this isn’t one of those caricature type-things,” she joked out of the side of her mouth, “otherwise I can easily guess what feature will be the most prominent!” Abby had visions of a picture of her herself with a large protruding nose, but seeing as the rest of his portraits seemed standard charcoal drawings, she should be OK.

Pierre worked diligently for about ten minutes, throughout which Finn loitered alongside him keeping a close eye on proceedings. She wished he’d stood in for the portrait too, it would have been nice to have a picture of the two of them together, but this kind of thing wasn’t really his style.

Eventually Pierre stood back from his easel, and seeing as Finn looked pretty impressed, Abby was hoping for the best. 

“Looking good,” he said, winking at her.

But when Pierre turned the easel back to show her the drawing, she was completely taken aback–and in a good way. The likeness was amazing! Although it was a bit disappointed that it was in black and white, as she really would have preferred it to be in colour but …oh some of it was!

“What’s this?” she asked, pointing out a necklace that he’d included in the drawing, although she wasn’t wearing one. A key-shaped gold-coloured pendant, it was the only detail that was in full colour, which was why Abby couldn’t help but notice it in the first place.

“Ah thees’” Pierre explained with a smile, “thees is zee key to happiness.”

“Oh OK.” Abby inwardly rolled her eyes, thinking that this was obviously some kind of a tourist ploy, but seeing as her own likeness was good she wasn’t going to complain.

“Merci, thank you very much indeed,” Finn said, taking out his wallet to pay Pierre, who rolled up the portrait and tied it with a piece of red ribbon. Then the artist kissed Abby on both cheeks and wished her well.

She had to smile. Touristy or not she was loving this!

Having left Pierre to his work she and Finn continued through the Place du Tertre and down to another street before heading into the quieter, more peaceful Rue de Saules. 

The atmosphere was wonderful and so intrinsically French with all the little shops and cafes that Abby was transfixed by it. A little way down the street, a brightly dressed woman selling jewellery on the pavement smiled at them and waved.

“Let’s go take a look,” said Finn, leading them towards the street seller, much to Abby’s surprise. Goodness, he really was getting into the swing of things today! Evidently Paris was working its magic on him too…

“Something you like, Mademoiselle?” the woman asked, smiling at them both.

“No thanks,” Abby said, not particularly blown away by any of the stuff the woman was selling. But then catching sight of something, she stopped short. “Look at this,” she exclaimed to Finn, picking up a chain and pendant
identical
to the one Pierre had sketched her wearing! Attached to the chain was a small yellow gold pendant in the shape of an old-style key.

“Ah, you have good taste Mademoiselle,” said the street-seller. “All my jewellery hold extraordinary powers, the promise of beauty, good fortune and especially,” she added with a smile “everlasting love.”

Right, Abby thought sceptically, recognising that this was
definitely
some tourist scam being carried out between the street sellers. Mysterious pendants and everlasting love my foot! Did she have the word ‘sucker’ written on her forehead or something?

But Finn too was smiling.

“That’s incredible,” he said to the woman, before unfolding the portrait and pointing out the self-same pendant. “What an amazing coincidence.”

Abby looked at him, surprised. Clearly he’d decided to just play along for the fun of it.

“Amazing indeed!” replied the woman, looking from the portrait back to Abby. “Well then, this has to be a sign.” With that, she picked up the pendant and went to clasp it around Abby’s neck. “Here, Mademoiselle, take it, clearly it is destined to be yours.”

“Um, no thanks,” Abby said, stepping back, a bit wrong-footed by these intimidating sales tactics. Not at all what she’d expected in the supposedly cultured and sophisticated Paris. But you got that kind of thing in touristy spots everywhere nowadays, didn’t you? She shot a nervous glance at Finn, who to her surprise, seemed to be finding all of this very amusing indeed.

“No, no you misunderstand,” the Frenchwoman protested, continuing to hold the chain out to her, “there is no charge, this is a gift – it is yours.”

“What?” Now Abby was completely baffled. She looked at Finn who just shrugged.

“She said no charge.”

“Yes, but I don’t really want it,” Abby murmured, as the Frenchwoman finally succeeded in clasping the chain around her neck.

Finn was openly laughing now. “But she says it has magical powers!” he said winking at her.

“Mademoiselle, it is yours. No charge.” The seller was determined that Abby should keep the key-shaped pendant, whether she wanted it or not.

“OK then,” she said sighing and wondering yet again what the punch line was going to be. Would she now have to buy more jewellery in order for these so-called ‘magical powers’ to work?

But it seemed there was no punch line; at least none from this street-seller anyway, as satisfied that Abby had accepted her ‘gift’, the woman smiled and moved on to another customer.

“What on earth was all that about?” she asked, fiddling with the necklace as she and Finn continued on down the street.

“I have no idea, but whatever it was, it was worth it simply for the look on your face. Talk about a suspicious Irish tourist!” He gave her a sideways glance. “I think it suits you actually.”

“But there’s obviously some kind of scam going on, isn’t there? Why else would anyone just give me a free necklace? I mean, I know its not real gold or anything but …” Then suddenly the thought struck her. Pickpockets! Abby opened her bag and began frantically searching for her purse, but to her relief it was still there. “Check for your wallet, quick!” she urged Finn, who clearly non-plussed, reached into his pocket and calmly produced his.

Weird …she’d been so sure she’d discovered the real root of the street-seller’s generosity, was certain it was some kind of elaborate diversion to keep her and Finn occupied while an accomplice relieved them of their money.

“I can’t believe what a paranoid little mind you have,” Finn said, amused by her reaction. “A nice woman gives you a free gift and all you can do is jump to conclusions.”

Now, Abby was really perplexed. “It just seems so strange that’s all.”

“Well, all this intrigue is now starting to make me hungry. Fancy some lunch?”

“OK, good idea.”

The two of them stopped off at a nearby café, and spent a lovely hour sitting outside on the pavement taking their time over delicious chocolate crepes and a couple of fabulous French roast coffees.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Abby said, enjoying the laid-back vibe of it all. “Now I understand why people love Paris so much. It’s very romantic.”

Finn laid a hand on hers. “I’m really glad you’re enjoying it.”

“How could I not?”

“Well, you’ve visited so many other amazing places this year … it must be hard to find a favourite.”

Abby smiled. “There’s a big difference, though isn’t there?” she said slightly pink-cheeked as she spoke, “I wasn’t with you.” Even though he’d told her almost every day since his friend’s wedding that he loved her, she was still hardly unable to believe it and kept waiting for the axe to fall and for him to realise that he was taking on too much by being with her. But so far, this hadn’t happened.

After lunch, they continued strolling along the same narrow Parisian street, Abby lightly fingering the pendant as she walked, still trying to figure out why the street-seller had gifted it to her.

Then out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an agitated-looking man running down the street towards them. He seemed to be in a bit of a panic and kept anxiously looking behind him as if afraid he was being followed. Then she noticed with some unease the way he kept his hand beneath his jacket, almost as if he was hiding something …