The Charm Bracelet (2 page)

As she made her way to Greenwich Village after safely seeing Danny to the school gates, Holly marvelled once again at the fairy lights that seemed to dominate the city streets in this part of town.
Bleecker Street was often covered in lights anyway, but at this time of year they were festive rather than just funky. 

She checked her watch and stopped by her usually deli, a Korean place on the corner of Tenth and Waverly, for a cup of coffee. Warming her hands around the hot cardboard cup, she held it to her face, letting the steam rise. Even though she had been working at the vintage store for almost four years, she could still not get the journey to work down pat. She was always late, despite the short
walk from her place via Danny’s school only a few blocks away.

As she quickened her pace, she stole a look at some of the other store windows and paused for a moment in front of Encore, The Secret Closet’s main competition.   Encore
had some hot pepper lights around the window frame and a display of handbags in muted leathers and plaids. A mannequin wearing full-on fifties evening dress stood in one corner of the window, and another wearing a motorcycle jacket and jeans
à la
James Dean crouched in another. Holly shook her head fondly. An out-and-out thrift-store display. Pity, as she could tell the bags were authentic, and it was even possible that the evening dress on the mannequin might well have been worn by someone like Greta Garbo at some point.

Frank, the owner, just did not know how to dress a window. Suddenly the man himself appeared from behind the James Dean mannequin and waved at her happily, pointing to the display and giving her a thumbs-up suggesting, ‘Not bad, huh?’ Holly laughed and returned the gesture.

Her boss Carole was already at work when she arrived at the store, as the shutters were up but no lights were on yet. Holly pushed the door open, letting in cold air, and the bells that hung from the knob jingled.

‘Morning Carole!’ she called cheerily, as she worked to brush some stray hair out of her face and wipe melting snow from her pink cheeks.

‘I'm in the back, be out in a sec,’ a thin voice called from the rear of the store.

Holly unwound her scarf and folded it up along with her bag behind the counter.

She began switching on the lights that accented the various clothing racks around the room. Her boots clacked on the polished hardwood floor, and she could glimpse flashes of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that graced each wall.

There were only about ten racks out at a time; Carole liked to rotate clothing by season, keeping an eye on the trends that her many stylist clients (as well as the latest issue of
Vogue
) clued her into.

Each rack was stainless steel and uncrowded, and each beautifully restored and pressed vintage piece hung carefully on its own wooden hanger. Carole was strict about every garment being hung four inches apart from the next; she hated customers having to dig through piles of clothes to find something.

There were simple ladder-style shelves in one corner of the room, upon which hats and scarves were meticulously displayed, and in front of the windows, facing inwards, were two long benches with glass cases full of smaller accessories – brooches, hairclips and fascinators.

Holly leaned into the store window to make sure there was no dirt on the glass. Their window display could not have been more different than Encore's. Carole found regular store mannequins tacky, so ages back she had got hold of two dress dummies from a Metropolitan Museum of Arts costume exhibit.

How she had managed it, Holly never knew, but they looked great. Beautifully sculpted in wood and covered with a sheer layer of creamy velvet, one dummy wore a black Ralph Lauren pinstripe suit from the sixties, and the other an Oscar de la Renta early seventies lace ivory floor-length dress.

There was nothing else in the display, but good lighting and a view to the inside.

Most days Carole was out on the prowl for that perfect vintage piece, even attending Sotheby's auctions when she knew a big estate was being sold off, but most of her mornings were spent going through new stock and donations. A percentage of all their profits automatically went to the Red Cross, and as the store had a distinguished and wealthy client base, the prices were not for the faint of heart.

Holly looked up, suddenly noticing the UPS delivery person standing in front of the counter. ‘Oh gosh, Harold, I’m sorry, I was daydreaming … can I help you?’ She recognised their usual delivery person, who visited their store at least once a week. ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long.’

‘Not long. A real winter wonderland out there today, isn’t it?’ he commented in a thick Brooklyn accent.

‘I know, isn’t it beautiful? The perfect start to the season,’ Holly said dreamily, completely missing the sardonic undercurrent.
             

‘Yeah. Ho-ho-ho,’ Harold replied dully. ‘You might change your tune if you had to drive that monster around the streets of
Manhattan all day.’ He motioned to the brown UPS truck that idled by the kerb, turning the snow under its wheels to a dull grey sludge.

‘Oh Harold, stop. Surely you can still appreciate the holiday spirit,’ Holly smiled. ‘
New York is especially magical round this time of year.’

‘Yeah, well, I’d appreciate some holiday magic in the form of a signature. Park an extra minute longer than necessary in the Village and I’m cited for blocking traffic. Corporate just
loves
when that happens, and I need my bonus this year, so if you don’t mind … ’

‘Of course. We wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.’ Holly took the electronic signature pad from him and scribbled her name with loops and swirls. ‘Here you go.’

Carole emerged from the backroom of the store, looking completely on task and focused, and well put-together in an Yves St Laurent suit. She held a variety of clothes on hangers, all ready to be displayed out front. Holly’s boss was in her sixties and had been living and working downtown since the 1970s. She had held on to The Secret Closet all that time, transforming it from a dowdy thrift store that once sold mismatched tea cups and old toasters next to used pea coats into what it was today, a streamlined and chic designer vintage clothing store.

Plump with a short pixie cut, Carole dyed her hair a deep red and always wore dramatic eye makeup. ‘It’s my signature,’ she had told Holly once, and Holly could see why. Her eyes were huge and almond-shaped, stunning. Her boss was typically brusque by nature, but Holly knew she appreciated her work. The two women had become close over the years, each knowing they could depend on the other to do whatever needed to get done.

‘Oh I’m sorry Harold, I thought I heard the front door open. I was up to my elbows trying to get this stuff out before we opened,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry about it, Carole, Holly was here to help me,’ Harold said. ‘She was just telling me all about the magic of the season,’ he added mischievously.

‘Ah yes, I should have figured,’ Carole said drolly. ‘As if you couldn’t already tell from her name, our Holly just loves Christmas.’ She turned to her employee. ‘I’m sure you were skipping through the streets singing “Jingle Bells”?’

Holly shrugged off the teasing; they knew her well. ‘Well, if I thought I was going to be facing the Ghost of Christmas Past and Ebenezer Scrooge, I would have taken my time getting here.’

Carole chuckled. ‘So what do we have Harold? How many boxes?’ No aspect of operations slipped through without Carole noticing. Her organisational skills and attention to detail was one of the reasons the store was so successful.

‘Looks like there are about three or four,’ he told her. ‘You want me to carry them out to the backroom?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Carole agreed.

Holly relieved her boss of the clothes that she had been carrying and quickly went to work getting the store set up for the day’s business. There was no denying it, she was in an energetic mood, and she knew that the weather outside would only help custom today. While it might be normal human inclination to stay bundled up inside when the weather got messy, conversely New Yorkers tended to be driven out, filling the streets with holiday shopping treks and other festive wanderings. She knew that they would have a busy day.

‘Ready to do some psychic sorting?’ Carole reappeared from the backroom, and plopped a big box on the counter between her and Holly.

She grinned. ‘Yep!’

Carole detached the packing slip and ripped open the box. She pulled out the first piece, a big beautiful beige leather bag. Holly could immediately tell it was a Kelly original, still in almost mint condition. Most of their stock came from upscale clients who thoroughly inspected and cleaned most of what they wanted sold.

‘Well?’ Carole enquired, eyeing her.

‘Kelly original for sure, immaculate as far as I can see.’

‘Well, I know
that
much … ’

Holly closed her eyes and dramatically held the bag out in front of her. ‘Tall, beautiful, in her twenties, no children, adored Grace Kelly, in a secretary pool at … ’ she peered th
rough one eye to see Carole smiling. ‘
The New Yorker
maybe?’ Wound up marrying her boss who was much shorter, but that didn’t matter. He was wealthy beyond her wildest dreams.’

‘So that made her happy?’ Carole asked, trying to hide a grin.

Holly stroked the leather bag, kept in such perfect condition by its owner, probably on a high shelf in a protective pouch, with other bags lined up military style next to it.

‘The bag definitely did.’

‘And would money make you happy?’

Holly laughed. ‘No way: love only for me. I need to feel it like a ton of bricks.’

Carole shook her head. ‘Such a softie … good luck with that.’

Holly delved further into the box. She loved new deliveries – the thrill of finding something unique always gave her a rush, and there was truly something bittersweet about going through the discarded remains of someone’s life, of bygone times.

Holly marvelled as she pulled out one designer piece of clothing after another, hanging each on an empty rack as she worked. There were some fun party tops, two sequinned dresse
s
good pieces, but a little flashy.

Holly smiled as she admired each piece in her arms. Her breath caught as she noticed
a particularly gorgeous fifties Givenchy party dress. She hung it on the rack for a better look, certain that this dress would not be around for long. She stroked the rich, black silken material and gazed longingly at the tiny delicate crystals that graced the full tulle skirt. It really was a special dress.

She closed her eyes, wondering where it had come from and the kind of person who had worn it … what parties it had actually experienced in its past life, the fun and romance it had inevitably inspired when it was worn by some young, beautiful woman of another era. A dress like this had surely seen some good times
, and she was positive the fun to be had wasn’t over yet. Holly smiled, realising that destiny would soon deem someone else suitable to meet this dress … that the next chapter of this beautiful garment’s life was about to begin, right here.

‘It’s just so beautiful, don’t you think?’ she said to Carole. ‘Can you imagine the life it’s had?’

‘I’m sure it’s had a very interesting existence,’ Carole noted dryly, reading the delivery record. ‘Seems this lot came directly from Anna Bowery’s collection.’

Holly’s eyes widened at the mention of the well-known, elderly
New York socialite. Anna Bowery had been famous during the 1950s and 1960s for rubbing shoulders with people like Frank Sinatra, the Kennedys, Clark Gable even. Truly this dress must have seen some incredible times.

‘Wow … can you imagine? She might have danced with Marlon Brando in this dress, or talked about books with J.D. Salinger while wearing it … ’ Holly felt goose bumps. ‘Such an amazing life already. Whoever buys this is truly getting a piece of history,’ she said reverently. ‘It’s a dress that is made for magic. What girl wouldn’t want to be kissed in this? It’s simply meant for falling in love.’

‘Sounds like someone else has actually fallen in
lust
,’ Carole smiled. ‘I bet it would fit you,’ she ventured.

Holly laughed and shook her head ruefully.

‘Nope, not even
with
my store discount could I afford that. Besides, where would I wear it? This dress needs to be danced in – on a big occasion, like New Year’s Eve or something. My New Year’s Eve consists of popcorn on the couch with Danny, watching the ball drop on TV.’

Carole raised her eyebrows. ‘Spoken like a true spinster. Go on, Holly, try it on. Just to see. It will be fun.’

Holly smiled, and for a moment the urge to try on the dress was so strong that she was sure she would cave. But there was no point. Even if it did look good on her, the reality was that she had nowhere to wear something this lovely. It didn’t deserve to live out its days going unworn in her closet.

Of course, she wished she had somewhere to wear it, and, more to the point, she wished it were that easy just to hand over her Visa and think only of her own desires. But it wasn’t how things were in her lif
e
she had Danny to think about, and every year she was more and more determined to make his Christmas magical, even if it meant forgoing parties or events to which she was occasionally invited. While sometimes she felt it might be nice to go out on the town, she didn’t resent Danny for not doing so. She was happy with how things were.