The Charm Bracelet (36 page)

‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Jeff said, when they’d finished the yearly ritual. He reached into his pocket. ‘I have something for you … ’

Cristina’s eyes lit up as she set eyes on her treasured bracelet. She looked at her husband. ‘But how … ?’

He shook his head. ‘Seems you lost it somehow. How we got it back is a complete mystery.’

Cristina smiled knowingly. ‘Oh, I think you’d be surprised …’

A bell jingled happily behind me as I entered the charming little vintage store in Greenwich Village. I never knew this place was here, and I wish I’d discovered it before. I looked around at the beautiful displays and the gorgeous clothes.

It was then I realised I wasn’t alone.

‘Hi! Welcome to The Secret Closet’ a cheery voice sang out. I turned my attention towards the register and saw a striking young woman with sparkling green eyes smiling brightly at me. ‘Can I help you find anything?’

I shook my head. The last thing I needed, especially now, was more clothes, but still I smiled back.

‘Oh, I’m just looking. There are some beautiful things here. Your store is very nice,’ I said as I browsed.

‘Well, thank you. It’s not my store, per se, but I feel like it is sometimes.’

I walked in her direction, looking around at the clothes as much as I was looking at her. ‘You know, a lot of these clothes, they remind me of another time. My youth.’

The young woman became wistful. ‘I know, isn’t it amazing? Clothes are like magic. Every time we get a new shipment in and someone asks us to sell some of their wardrobe, I wonder about what those garments might have experienced, what they have been through, what they have seen.’

I looked at the spark in the young woman’s eye and understood exactly what she was talking about.

‘I agree with you. I never understood people who would just go in for the latest trend or fad. These clothes,’ I said motioning around me and thinking of Karen, with her penchant for the latest and greatest, ‘these clothes have lived. They’re like works of art.’

She was nodding her head vigorously now. ‘Yes, they’re old souls. That’s what I always say.’

I regarded her quietly as I circled around the store; I had a feeling that this young woman might be an old soul, too.

‘Have you worked here long?’ I inquired.

‘Yes, four years now. I know it’s a while to work in one place, but really, I love it. And I figure you should do what you love, shouldn’t you? Life’s too short to settle for a job you don’t enjoy.’

I paused, considering her words, and what I just learned from my doctor, what I had not shared with anyone, not yet. ‘Yes, life is too short.’ I neared the counter where she stood. ‘I might actually have some clothes that I would be willing to donate. How does that work?’

She smiled and reached under the counter for a business card. ‘Well, anything you have you can ship directly here, or if you call, we can send someone to pick it up. We pay a commission on anything that we sell and—’

I waved a hand. ‘I don’t need a commission.’

‘OK, in that case, that’s fine too – we automatically donate the commission to charity. Again, you can ship to us or we can pick up.’

I regarded the young woman for a minute more. She had to be around Greg’s age. I liked her; she was sparkling, vibrant, so full of life. Why, oh why, couldn’t he meet a girl like this?

A girl who laughed and understood the wonder in life and who made people feel warm just by being around her. But what were the chances of his path crossing with hers? Slim to none at best, especially in this city of millions.

‘I’m Cristina Matthews,’ I said. ‘It’s nice to meet you … ’

She held out her hand. ‘Holly, Holly O’Neill. Lovely to meet you, too.’

It was then that I noticed her bracelet. It was a charm bracelet, just like mine.

‘I really like your bracelet. I have one very like it. I’ve been collecting charms my whole life. I usually have it on, but it’s having a new charm fitted at the moment.’ I smile, thinking of Jeff’s hopeful
Date to Remember
charm. We’ll see …

She smiled and shook my hand. The charms jingled around her wrist. ‘It’s fun, isn’t it? Many of these were given to me over the years but I collected some myself, too. And I find that anytime I feel lonely, or feel sad, all I have to do is look down and I realise I am carrying all kinds of memories with me, most of them filled with joy and meaning. I suppose that when you think about life like that, it’s hard to be sad, isn’t it?’

I felt my eyes temporarily well up. ‘Do your charms only highlight the happy times though?’ I asked.

She thought for a moment and then looked down. She played with a charm or two and then settled on a pair of dice, twirling it around her fingers. Then she returned her gaze to me. ‘No, they’re not all happy, but even the bad stuff in life can teach you something, shape you. After all, every story has both good and bad in it, and life can be like that too. I guess it’s what we take away from it that counts. You wouldn’t be able to appreciate the happy times, if you didn’t sometimes experience some sad times as well. At least, that’s what I think,’ she added, blushing a little self-consciously. ‘What about you?’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘Are all of the charms on your bracelet happy?’

I shook my head and thought about one of my most recent additions, the breast cancer ribbon. It wasn’t a happy reminder, but it was a lesson. ‘No, they aren’t all happy,’ I admitted. ‘But they’ve made me the person I am today.’

She smiled at me. ‘Me too. My son always jokes that the story of my life is laid out on this bracelet. He’s almost ten.’

‘A son, how lovely? I have a son too. Yours sounds wonderful.’

‘He is.’ She paused a little and said the next words almost under her breath. ‘I just wish his father realised it.’

‘You’re no longer with his father?’

She looked up, as if forgetting herself. ‘No, not since before he was born. It’s hard sometimes but I do the best I can. At least I hope it’s the best.’

‘I can’t imagine you doing anything other than your best.’

She grinned. ‘You should hear my boss, she thinks I’m a bit crazy. Especially when I try to tell her the stories I imagine behind all these clothes.’

I smiled, realising how much I liked this girl and how much she reminded me of myself when I was younger. Happy and optimistic, and so open and enthusiastic about her joy for life. I try my best to be that way still, but it can be hard sometimes. Yet, I have to believe that I’ll get better. I refuse to not believe it. It’s the only way I’m managing to get through this.

‘It’s funny how things turn out sometimes, isn’t it?’ I said.

Holly had a quizzical expression on her face but smiled, probably wondering if she was dealing with a crazy woman, but yet I had a point I was trying to make.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘How something as simple as, for instance, walking in a store like this instead of just passing by, affects things? Like, if I hadn’t decided to walk in here today, I wouldn’t have met you and I wouldn’t have known just how wise you are. Such a small thing.’

Holly smiled. ‘It is. And it might be a small thing, but I’ve always believed that every little moment leads us to where we are goin
g
where we are supposed to be. It’s a big old world, but we are all just waiting to bump into one another, stumble across our next great adventure. Sometimes, we just get a push in the right direction.’

Her words struck a chord with me. Especially the bit about a push in the right direction.

She picked up a shirt and started to fold it and, as I watched her, an idea began to form in my mind.

‘Well, it was so nice to meet you Holly,’ I said, turning to leave, the idea burning strongly in my brain
. Yes, it was a long shot and beset with risks, but that never stopped me before. And just like Holly, I’ve always been a big believer that life has a way of working things out. ‘I’ll certainly be sure to send some clothes.’

‘That’s great! I’ll look out for them. I’m sure you have some wonderful things and I can’t wait to see what you send. And don’t worry, I’ll try not to guess too hard about the stories behind them. Although, now that I’ve met you, I know they’re sure to be lovely ones.’ She gave a little wave. ‘It was great meeting you, Cristina. Have a lovely day.’

‘You too. And please, let your imagination go wild, I don’t mind. But do look out for them, and make sure you look closely at each and every piece.’ I smiled as I reached for the handle. ‘You just never know what you might find.’

THE END

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A GIFT TO REMEMBER

Chapter 1

‘She is too fond of books and it has turned her brain’

Louisa May Alcott

Anyone who says that money can’t buy happiness has clearly never been inside a bookstore. And certainly not one like Chaucer’s Darcy Archer thought, glancing fondly around the gorgeous place she was lucky enough to work in.

The space was snug and inviting with a vaguely Dickensian feel to it; by way of its floor to ceiling hardwood shelves and filigreed gold signwriting above each section. The Victorian panelled bay window and festive-themed window display evoked old-fashioned storefronts of times gone by, as did the wrought iron scroll-effect purple-on-gold store sign hanging just outside the entrance.

Catering to its well-heeled Upper West Side neighbourhood, the little shop carried an eclectic mix of carefully hand-picked modern literature in a variety of genres, early edition classics as well as popular bestsellers for adults and children. A quiet and contemplative space, book lovers and gift-seekers alike adored Chaucer’s cheerful, experienced staff and pleasurable browsing experience. Its homey comfortable atmosphere made it the perfect place to spend an afternoon wandering amongst the shelves or hunting down an elusive title.

At this time of year, with just over a week to go before Christmas, the store was decked out in its holiday finest; fairy lights strung along the shelves, homemade glitter snowflakes hanging from the exposed rafters above, and the evocative aroma of cinnamon cocoa wafting from the tiny café on the first floor mezzanine.

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for a book…’

Darcy looked up from the shelving cart to see an older woman hovering uncertainly nearby. She looked to be in her late fifties, well-maintained and manicured, dressed in an expensive coat and scarf and clutching one of the last decade’s most luxurious handbags, which Darcy knew, thanks to her fashion maven aunt Katherine, was easily worth at least three of her monthly pay checks.

Darcy smiled. Looking for a book in a bookstore … if she only had a dollar for every time she’d heard that one …

But she gave the woman a warm smile. ‘Let’s see if I can help. What’s the title?’

              The woman bit her lip. ‘That’s it; I can’t remember it, but I know it’s by a female author with three names…and there are four daughters in it, although one has a boy’s name I think? And it’s Christmas time, and as far as I know they want to buy themselves presents, but then think better of it and buy one for their mother …’

             
The woman’s voice trailed off, and she stared at the shelves helplessly.

Momentarily puzzled, Darcy slipped a stray lock of raven black hair behind one ear.  No matter what she did with it – which was admittedly little – it would never stay put. ‘Is this a new release?’ she asked.

              ‘Oh no, my dear, it’s a classic.’ The woman’s eyes refocused and her voice grew almost haughty. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know it, actually. Have you been working here long?’

             
Darcy had to smile. Actually she was manager of Chaucer’s and had been working in the store for almost six years. And as if with minimum description she could magically hone in on the book in question amongst the millions published.

Still she did love a challenge …

              ‘Now, you say there are four sisters, and an author with three names?’ she said, gently guiding the woman towards the classic literature aisle. The customer nodded.  Overhead, a smooth jazz rendition of ‘It Must Have Been the Mistletoe’ played softly out over the speakers. ‘Well, I’m going to go out on a limb and say you may well looking for
Little Women
by Louisa May Alcott?’

             
The woman grimaced, idly scanning the books on the shelves. ‘I’m not sure ...’

             
‘There are four sisters in the book, and one of them – Jo – has a vaguely masculine name.’ Darcy pulled a thin red book from the shelf, the pages edged with gold; and presented it to the woman.

             
‘Oh,’ she said, taking it gently. ‘That is
beautiful
.’ She examined the book from bottom to top and inside and out, marvelling at its rich leather binding, and reprints of original classic illustrations scattered throughout.

             
‘Is it intended as a gift?’ Darcy asked.

             
The woman smiled. ‘Yes. A Christmas gift for my twelve year old granddaughter, actually’