The Charm Bracelet (28 page)

‘You think it might be referring to a meeting place – like in the movie?’

Holly grimaced. ‘It sounds stupid I know.’

‘But if it is, then the owner of the bracelet should show up at the meeting place, just like Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr – or Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan! Oooh exciting, do you think it’s the
Empire State Building?’

‘Kate, I’m not even sure if it’s anything like that, but the charm does suggest
 … ’

‘And even better, this is supposed to happen on New Year’s Eve, only a week from now!’ Kate had dropped her tea towel and was getting seriously carried away by the drama of it all. ‘Oh Holly, you’re right – that has to be it. The charm must be referring to a romantic meeting spot for the bracelet owner, and the love of her life, here in
Manhattan!’

Holly bit her lip, wondering if her imagination was running a little too far ahead of her this time. ‘Like I said, it’s just a thought … ’

‘So all you have to do is figure out the meeting place, then go there on that night too and find the owner.’ Kate was shaking her head with wonder. ‘But where could it be I wonder? In Manhattan alone there must be hundreds of—’

‘Actually,’ Holly admitted, hesitantly
, thinking back to the conversation she’d overheard Jessica having with Margot Mead, a few days before. ‘I think I already have an idea.’

Lying on the couch, still in his pyjamas at five o’clock on Christmas evening, Greg had his arm over his eyes, as if nursing an almighty hangover.

He couldn’t believe how the day had turned out and was completely flabbergasted by what had happened with Karen.

After pulling him up from his prone position on bended knee, Karen had, in a very business-like manner, outlined all of the reasons why she couldn’t marry him. Greg had listened with an open mouth, aghast at her level-headedness, and in how flawlessly she had been able to provide her reasons. He had pleaded with her, and told her that he would wait for her to get accustomed to the idea. And then he had foolishly suggested couple’s counselling, to which Karen had simply shaken her head no, explaining that counselling of any sort was for weak-minded people, individuals who had no control over their lives.

That was a slap in the face itself – had she really called him weak? Or even alluded to the fact that he had no control over his life?

No, Greg reassured himself, he was none of those things, but he felt that if you wanted something to work, that if you were dedicated to making something work, you took the necessary steps. But Karen had replied that there was no longer anything to make work, before adding something that cut him to the quick.

‘Greg, it wouldn’t be worth it. To either one of us. It would be like putting a Band-Aid on a broken arm.’ Then she frowned. ‘That’s weird, I have no idea where I got that saying from.’

But Greg knew. It was one of his mother’s expressions. And, just like that, it had all come full circle. It was a sign. He and Karen were finished.

Which was reinforced ten-fold when she simply stood up and said that she thought it best if she went to a hotel, in order to ‘create some distance’.

As she went back to the bedroom, Greg had stared numbly after her, looking around the room like a shell-shocked war survivor. That is, until something buzzed on the couch. Karen’s iPhone had fallen out of her robe pocket. He picked it up, meaning to call after her, but then he read the text message displayed on the screen.

Think you can get away for a while today? I’m at the Plaza and I have nothing to do but think about you.

From someone named Jack – who was at the Plaza. Probably the same hotel Karen was headed to now for her ‘distance’.

He had simply laid the phone on the coffee table, and when Karen re-entered the room, resplendent in skinny Versace jeans and a pair of Manolo Blahniks, he motioned towards it, stating, ‘Jack says he’s at the Plaza.’ Karen’s cheeks pinkened a little until she regained composure. She didn’t even attempt to explain, she simply picked up the phone, offered a quick ‘thank you’ and left.

She was so calm and cool and collected about it all. But really, was it any surprise? Karen would only get upset if she wasn’t prepared for something. It wasn’t in her nature to have emotional outbursts.

Which was so unlike him. And his family. They laughed, they cried, they argued, they talked about their dreams and hopes, they disagreed, they loved, they
lived
.

Greg wanted to be mad, and he was sure that there was a part of him that would fume and be angry later, but right then, after all that had happened, he simply couldn’t. He was exhausted.

‘Here you go kid. I thought you might need something stronger than the wine.’ Jeff handed him a crystal glass filled with Scotch, which he had brought over for what he had believed would be celebratory drinks.

Greg uncovered his eyes. ‘Thanks Dad.’ He took the glass and threw the majority of the liquor back in one gulp.

Jeff grimaced. He had to admit that, when he arrived, he hadn’t been altogether shocked that Karen had said no. What had struck him more deeply was the realisation that he was happy she had done so.

Not that he wanted to see his son hurt; no, not by any stretch, but rather, he realised now that clearly Greg and Karen just weren’t right for each other. There should be no second-guessing when it came to a marriage proposal and, if anything, he admired Karen’s honesty in the matter. Her bluntness would probably save his son from a world of hurt later.

Plus, if the tart was cheating, which it appeared that she was, then so long, farewell and don’t let the door hit your skinny ass on the way out.

Jeff turned his attention to Greg as he struggled to sit up on the couch. He was sure that he had a nice little buzz on, if he wasn’t completely drunk. But, no matter, a break-up was a break-up and the guy was entitled to a couple of drinks.

Greg groaned. ‘I’m such an idiot. That stupid proposal. How could I have thought that was a good idea? I’m a laughing stock.’

‘No, you aren’t, and besides, save for you, me, Karen and your buddy at the
Times
, no one knows that it was from you. There are probably a hundred, if not a thousand Karen Bennets in this city. At least you didn’t work your full name into the puzzle.’

Greg shook his head. ‘At least.’ He paused. ‘I just don’t know how I could have been so blind. Why couldn’t I see that there were cracks?’

‘Because you are your mother’s son. As savvy as your mom could be, she was always a sucker for romance. You get that from her. Plus, well … you like to see the best in people.’

‘But Mom always had reservations about Karen … ’ he ventured questioningly.

Jeff exhaled. ‘Perhaps. But she also resolved to accept somethin
g
or rather someon
e
who apparently made you happy.’

Greg put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘She said that if we stayed together it would be like putting a Band-Aid on a broken arm. I swear to God, when she said that, I was convinced Mom was in the room, standing right behind me.’

‘To all things there is a purpose,’ Jeff said. ‘More Cristina words of wisdom. And indeed, and maybe you don’t know it right now, but maybe that purpose will reveal itself to you soon, Greg. Your mother always had a canny knack of knowing what’s best for you and me both. Even before we knew it for ourselves. I always teased her of having a secret crystal ball, the way she could always work out what the future held.’

Greg chuckled. ‘OK then. Maybe part of that purpose was making sure we didn’t have to eat any of Karen’s cooking today.’ His laugh grew. ‘You know, she really was completely terrible in the kitchen, and completely beyond cooking anything remotely
edible.’

Jeff laughed heartily. ‘Amen to that. So then, what do you say for Christmas dinner? Chinese or pizza?’

The following day, Holly listened to Carole outline down the phone all the reasons she should stay home with Danny and not worry about coming back to work for a few more days.

Even though she was still a little concerned about him, she felt guilty for rushing out on her boss a few days before, leaving her short-staffed for the Christmas rush.

‘Honestly, don’t worry your pretty little head about it – it’s already all taken care of,’ Carole assured her. ‘I’m going to have my niece come in and help me. She’s looking to earn a little extra pocket money over the school break. You stay home and look after your budding hockey player OK?’

‘So what you are telling me is that I am easily replaced by a seventeen year old, is that it?’

‘Not quite. I certainly won’t be letting Tasha loose on the deliveries or we’d be seeing lots of
haute couture
on Father Mike’s crew,’ Carole laughed jovially. ‘But she’s competent enough to man the cash register, answer the phone and clean up the dressing rooms, which is more than enough for the moment. It will be fine, Holly, and besides, you need to be with Danny. If you’re here you’ll just be worried about him. Anyway, I suspect you don’t have a whole lot of options for a sitter over the holidays? Unless you and Nick are really back on good terms.’

‘Not
that good,’ Holly told her, although Nick had phoned on Christmas night and talked to Danny, much to her son’s delight. Maybe her ex really was dedicated to being a better father from now on?. She hoped that this time he truly meant it, unlike when after 9/11 he’d come back from California full of promises and great intentions to be there for Holly and the baby. That day had given him a huge shock – had brought him to senses and reminded him of what truly mattered, he’d said.

And for a while Nick had been true to his word, until eventually
life got in the way of good intentions …

Nonetheless, she was a long way from calling on him to take care of Danny while she went to work.

‘Well, I’d certainly appreciate it while he’s still off school, but I promise I’ll be back before the end of the week, OK? You are bound to be busy with last-minute crowds coming in for stuff for New Year’s Eve. Speaking of which, did Jessica end up buying any of the dresses?’ she asked, referring to Margot Mead’s assistant who’d been in the store when Holly had had to rush off to the hospital.

‘Yes, she ended up buying a couple actually.’

‘Great. The red one
and
the Givenchy?’ Holly felt a little sad, knowing that she would never see Anna Bowery’s stunning dress again. It had been so wonderful to admire and daydream about it in the short time it had been at the store. ‘Good for her. It looked amazing on her, and she’ll have lots of occasion to wear it. I think I might miss it though,’ she chuckled.

‘Speaking of Jessica, any more progress on the bracelet?’ Carole asked.

‘Well … ’ She wasn’t sure whether or not to mention to Carole her theory about the ‘Date to Remember’ charm and a supposed meeting place on New Year’s Eve. It was just that – a theory and a bit of a big long shot when she thought about it.

‘I’m going to start cross-referencing those lists she gave me,’ she told Carole. ‘See if there’s anything that jumps out from there. And I might give that gallery owner a call too, see if he’s found anything out in the meantime.’

She reached for her bag and pulled out the masses of paper she had thrown in there a few days before. The lists were by now in complete disarray, and she picked out Danny’s hospital discharge and treatment papers she had shoved in there as well. She tried to organise the lists as she spoke to Carole, realising everything was by now hopelessly out of order.

‘I think I’ve made a mess of it already, though. I don’t even know which list is which. Damn … ’ Holly said, shuffling through the paper before casting the lot aside. ‘It’s like every time I turn around there is more information to consider, not less. Given what I’ve already discovered, I would have thought that the possibilities would have started to narrow themselves down now.’

‘Well, good luck with it anyway. I’m sure you’ll work something out,’ Carole said. ‘On the plus side, it’ll give you something to do while you’re playing nursemaid,’ she teased.

Holly thanked her again and the two women said their goodbyes.

When she hung up, Holly checked on Danny, who was happily engrossed in his trusty iPad, before turning her attention to the bracelet once again.

Part of the paperwork Jessica had given her was a list of attendees at a charity benefit that took place yearly on 31 December.

Following her revelation during the movie on Christmas Day, Holly wondered if it were as simple as that – that the owner of the lost bracelet was somewhere on the list and might turn up at the same event on New Year’s Eve this year.

Same Time, Same Place
?

And, even if
this was the case, what was she supposed to do – turn up at the benefit on New Year’s Eve, and just stand outside asking people on the way in if they’d lost a bracelet? She’d probably be chased away by security.

No, Holly thought, deflated, in truth it was highly unlikely she’d be able to figure everything out by New Year’s Eve – which was now only days away.

I lay my head back against the mass of pillows that Maria has so expertly arranged on the bed. I feel restless, and that ‘cool spot’ that I so eagerly search for proves to be elusive. I decide to think of cold things – maybe it would help. The feel of the ocean in the Hamptons; some delicious ice-cream treat from Serendipity; snow. Like the snow that fluttered down onto Central Park just outside my window.

What I wouldn’t give to go lie in the snow! The thought is so fleeting, it makes me wonder about the last time I voluntarily lay down to make a snow angel, or feel gentle snowflakes on my skin. I look longingly at the window across from my bed; it was my one companion in this room.

Just feet away, on the other side of the glass, was winter, and I imagined the wind that rushed down Fifth Avenue right at this moment, the smell of hot chocolate as it cascaded out of a café, and the ice skaters at Rockefeller. I imagined myself in those places; at the very least I wished that I could press my cheek against the cold glass that presented all of the city to me. A city I had known so intimately my whole life.

I shake my head, thinking of times past, before everything had happened. I wish I could take back all of the times I complained about being too hot, or too cold, or being bored, or too busy. I wish I could have all those times back, and just be happy to be in the moment. All of my little complaints seem so silly, so trite, especially now.

I sleep and wake again, not sure if it is the same day or another day.

I feel confused sometimes, and I’m not always sure if my pain is real or just imagined. Or how much of it is due to the battle raging in my body or the fear that seems to have settled upon my heart. 

I don’t want to think this way, about that. I really want to believe, just like any challenge of my life, that this, too, will be something that I will eventually conquer, overcome. That I have the opportunity to go on. Yes, I’ve had a good life – an amazing lif
e
but when does one ever stop wanting more? Dreaming of what is yet to come? It just wasn’t fair.

But no one ever said life was fair.

I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyes and I struggle to keep them at bay. Those tears seemed to come all too easily these days, and it was even harder to keep trying to hide them.

I move my left hand and cover my right wrist. It’s funny to think that such a little charm bracelet can offer such feelings of protection. But that’s what I need these days, some level of hope that will ultimately assist me in enduring.

This little trinket never fails to remind me of the happy times; it is proof that I had lived.

So this is what it feels like to hold your life in your hands.

I gently caress each charm, briefly recounting the memories, the significance, the joy and the happiness associated with it. Who will remember my story when I am no longer here? Who will know what these little things mean?

I didn’t need to look at the individual charms any more; I had committed all of them to memory over the years. Each little addition was so special, so important to me. Every charm contained a host of memories, and all of them – if not completely happy
 – still made me who I was.

I remember when Jeff presented it to me. Right back at the beginning, the year before we married.

I feel the little pickle with a diamond chip on it: the first charm, a salute to the pickle barrel and his version of an engagement ring. Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly and I catch my breath. It all went by so fast.

I ball my fists around the bracelet so I won't cry, feel the little Italian
corno
dig into my palm and start to breathe again.

We were on our honeymoon, and I was wearing … a red and white print dress cinched at the waist with a wide red belt. I just wanted to look like Jackie O back then. Jeff was in a suit with no tie, just a little blue neck-scarf. Oh we thought we were so European – we were so silly! My hand hurts so I release the bracelet a little bit, and with my fingers I find our wedding bells, white gold this time.

My fingers keep circling the bracelet. Next the quill; Jeff always used to tease me about being a compulsive list-maker. The handbag, an obvious one and a true homage to a misfortunate addiction. I have always had a particular weakness for Chanel.

Then, Greg's baby carriage, the happiest day of my life. Lost in the memory, I smile and stare at the ceiling – there is a pretty pattern of light playing on it. I feel like a baby staring at a mobile. Is this what it was like? Not for me as a baby, no crib mobiles back then, just the tin ceiling of my parents’ deli to keep me entertained. Greg had a mobile themed Curious George; it was from a little toyshop on East Eighty-Sixth street.

When I was a girl, I wanted brothers and sisters so badly, it was awful, I ached for them. I had to help at the deli, so I was not allowed to stay and play with any of my schoolmates after school, or on the weekends. It was books on the deli counter and get cracking. My dad would have me make the egg salad, and later let me work the slicer. Think about it, letting a child work a meat slicer – we were so crazy back then. This brings a smile to my mouth as I think of buying Greg's first car-seat straps, unheard of in my day, when you just got tossed around in the back seat. Or how I cut up his meat until he was eleven. Eleven! I was so afraid he'd cut himself with a knife. Jeff used to scold me that I was babying him, but I wasn't. I was just being his mom, a good mom, because I could. I had no deli to run, no other obligations. I could devote all my time and attention to my beloved boy. I was unable to have any more children, and Greg himself was nothing short of a miracle. I could not get pregnant for the life of me after Jeff and I got married. I remember talking to Father Mike about it, who told me that God was good and that I shouldn’t worry too much about it.

Jeff and I took his advice and
simply decided not to obsess about it from then on; after all, as Doris Day sings, ‘Que sera sera’. Do young people watch old movies any more? I must ask Greg. He used to park himself in front of the TV with me now and then to catch an old movie. Cary Grant was my favourite, of course. Jeff always reminded me of him a little bit. I must ask Greg when he comes again. Maybe we can watch one together … if I have time. I have to laugh. If I have time? I sound like I'm getting ready to catch a flight.

It's strange how I worry more for Jeff than I do for Greg. Parents are supposed to go before children, it's the natural order of things, and though I know Greg will grieve, he'll move on.

Jeff, he's the one I get so nervous about. I wonder if I should arrange a full-time girl to help him. Maybe Maria could use more work, to help him out full time – I should ask her, although she’s already assumed that role.

I can’t help it; I have visions of Jeff eating old yoghurt and getting botulism. He never thinks of those naturally life-preserving things like I did, like if something smells funny don't eat it.

I hate the fact that my illness and all its accoutrements have prevented us from sleeping the same bed any more – in the same room even. I miss my husband’s strong arms around me at night, the time I am most scared and oddly most awake.

But I don’t want to think about that just now. It is too depressing.

Where was I? Oh yes, I had just traced the outline of a tiny snowflake, one of the first charms I received from my son. Christmas was always my favourite time of year and we used to take Greg to see the Rockefeller Center Tree Lighting every year, even through high school.

I smile at the thought of my tall, handsome son, still humouring his silly old parents as time and time again they bring him to see the tree.

The lights go on and he claps along with the crowd, just to make us happy.

We had since stopped taking him skating, though – that I couldn't subject him to. After the lighting, we would 'release him', and let him go off to find his friends and go sledding on garbage-can tops in the park. I wonder if Greg will bring his own children to the tree lighting some day. I sure hope so.