‘Oh, just sorting out my much overdue promotion to feature writer. Can’t stop, I’m off to Ireland to write my first article! Looks like I’m joining the writers’ room when I get back. Merry Christmas, Salma.’ I smile warmly at her and try to walk steadily down the corridor to call Jill and have her talk me off this ledge!
FIVE
Fresh from a hot shower and doused in body butter moisturiser, I’m incredibly nervous but also excited as I croon along to Christmas tunes on Spotify. I’m soothed by Bublé’s dulcet tones singing about a pair of hopalong boots. My suitcase is open on the bed, packed with three pairs of jeans, my suede skirt, a few tops, woolly jumpers and my black suede heels. I pull open my spilling wardrobe to search for one more item. I hadn’t been able to reach Jill on the phone when I’d left the office yesterday because I keep forgetting about the time difference in London. So I had jumped back on the subway over to my mom’s to tell her the news, fully expecting her to agree that this was all too much and I wouldn’t be able to take it on. Instead:
‘Don’t be silly, honey, you’ll be fine, you can do this. I’m telling you to go for it.’ Dorothy had rinsed a dishcloth and draped it over the faucet but she never took her eyes off me.
‘I’m terrified!’ I’d confessed, holding both my hands out so she could see the tremor in them.
‘Even more reason to face your fears. What have you got to lose?’ I could tell she was thinking about her new relationship with George.
‘I sold my car because of how much I hated driving in New York, let alone in a country I’ve never been in before. What if Iget lost? What if I break down? What if I crash? What if I—’ I’ll admit I was spiralling.
‘Now listen to me, young lady. You can do this, you want that promotion, right? Nothing in life is easy, but you can’t spend it being frightened of it. You have one life to live on this earth. Take the shot.’ Mom had reached up for the tin of hot chocolate, our go-to in times of a crisis.
‘I know, I wish I wasn’t such a coward. I wish I could be someone stronger, I just don’t know if I have it in me.’ I’d curled up on her couch and pulled the fluffy red pillow embroidered with holly over my head.
‘Remember when I was trying to teach you to ride a bike and you looked at all the other kids whose daddies were teaching them and told me you couldn’t do it?’ She poured milk and a dash of fresh cream into the copper saucepan.
I’d nodded, seeing that warm summer day in Bryant Park clearly.
‘Do you remember what I told you?’ She’d ignited the gas with a click-click-click.
‘You told me that I didn’t need anyone else to succeed, that I had it all in me.’ Slowly I pulled the pillow down from my face.
‘Exactly. And you peddled like your little life depended on it and you passed all those other kids and their dads.’ A proud smile had spread across her face.
‘I hear you.’ I’d nodded with new determination, buoyed up by her fate in me.
‘Plus, you’ve that Irish blood so .?.?.’
This stopped me in my tracks again. Dorothy never talked about my Irish heritage and this was twice in the same day.
‘I don’t know a lot about it,’ I’d said carefully, watching her heap spoonfuls of the chocolate powder into two mugs.
‘All I know is that your great-great-grandfather left Ireland on a boat to Ellis Island.’ Dorothy untied her apron and held myeye. ‘Might be time to start tracing your roots.’ She poured the hot creamy milk into our mugs. ‘What better time than when you’re in Ireland?’ She’d smiled warmly and I’d felt insanely proud of her. This was the sign to me that she had moved on and let her pain of my dad’s adultery go. Maybe I should think about doing the same, but before I could answer her the doorbell rang out.
‘Who is that at eight thirty in the morning?’ I’d asked her, my head swivelled toward the door.
‘That’s G-George, honey. He was on his way over, he’s giving me a lift this morning. You see I-I’ve made more cookies and cupcakes than I intended and the cupcakes weigh a ton with all that caramel and toffee,’ Mom had blurted at a pace, her eyes moving to the boxes on the counter top, not making eye contact with me. ‘He’s opening a second Sweet Spoon downtown and he’s asked me to work full time creating the pastry menu, did I mention that?’
‘You did not! Holy cow, that’s great, Mom!’ I had waited for her to tell me more but I could see she was flummoxed and unable to get the words out so I’d let her off the hook.
‘I have to run anyway, give George my hot chocolate. I love you, Mom. I’ll call from Ireland and see you on Christmas Eve. What can I bring by the way?’ I wrapped my green wool coat tightly around myself, crossed my arms and we’d walked down the hallway. Then she pulled the latch back and opened the front door.
‘Maggie! Good to see you,’ George bellowed, a smile lighting up his eyes above his thick, bushy grey beard. His well-weathered face was full of kindness. A good man.
‘I’m running, George, but I can’t wait to hear all about this new Sweet Spoon? There is a delicious mug of hot chocolate waiting for you on the counter, don’t let it go cold. I’ll be seeing you for Christmas dinner, I hope?’ I’d winked at Mom and gaveGeorge a warm hug. He grinned at my mom, both of them wearing goofy smiles like two soppy teenagers.
‘That sounds delightful. I’d be thrilled. If you’re sure?’ George returned, looking at Dorothy.
‘We’d love to have you.’ Mom’s cheeks had flushed pink. ‘I’m proud of you, Maggie, you got this.’
With my mother’s words of encouragement ringing in my ears I’d headed down the slushy street towards the subway. Things were changing, I could feel it. Mom would no longer rely on me as she once had. Yes, I was a nervous wreck. Yes, I was unsure. Yes, I was totally out of my comfort zone agreeing to track halfway across the world alone but I was also proud of myself. I hadn’t said no. I wouldn’t beat myself up forevermore. I was excited. It had been so long since I had felt excited. I was going to Ireland. Me, Maggie Grace! A place I had a connection to. I’d heard my father talk about it. But mostly, I was filled with contentment that my mother had found happiness at long last.
Flicking through my tightly packed wooden hangers, I’m still looking for that final item I need to pack – my one and only ball gown. Jill had found it for me in a thrift store in the Hamptons years ago. At face value it was worth at least three months’ salary, but I got it for fifty dollars.
‘There you are, my pretty.’ I clamp my teeth shut as I struggle to wriggle the hanger free and pull out the scarlet red dress. The sculpted evening gown has a low scooped back and off-the-shoulder detail, a plunging sweetheart neckline and a flattering chiffon tied around the hips. I’m hoping to slip into any weddings at the hotel incognito, so I need to be dressed appropriately. Just so I can observe. Carefully, I fold the dress and put it on top of the heels then zip up my case and leave it by the door. Plonking my weary bones down at my compact vanity table, I count the hours back to London time, and FaceTime Jill again.
