He checked his watch. ‘I do.’
‘Are you all set?’ Clara asked.
‘I think so. Everything’s organised and in place. I just have to decide what to wear, turn up and hope my date hasn’t changed her mind.’
‘Have a little faith. It’s almost Christmas.’
Oliver smiled. ‘I hate to tell you this, Clara, but I found out Santa wasn’t real a good while ago.’
‘What?! He’s not real?!’ Clara exclaimed, her hand at her chest.
He clapped his hands together in applause. ‘Bravo. I’d expect a call from Broadway any day.’ He put his hands to his head and closed his eyes. ‘Thomas Mitchell! That last guy you showed me is Thomas Mitchell from technical support.’
‘Congratulations, Mr Drummond, you’re getting to know your staff.’
37
DEAN WALKER’S APARTMENT, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
Hayley blew at the clear gloss on her fingernails and took a sneaky peek at her watch again. It wasn’t long until Oliver would be coming. She’d been buzzing since their phone call that morning, wondering where he was going to take her and how the night was going to go. She shook her hands in the air to speed the drying process. She was really nervous, which was completely ridiculous. She’d spent more time with this man than she’d spent with Angel’s father. And they got on. Really well. Better than she’d got on with any man. They had a vibe, they bounced off each other, it was a good connection. With only a few weeks before she had to face unemployment back home, it was nice to be in a New York bubble where she had a job and a night with a good-looking guy to enjoy.
The door of the bedroom opened and Angel burst forward. ‘I got triple bunny points and unlocked a golden chicory!’
‘So much excitement over vegetables! I wish you were the same when they’re on your plate,’ Hayley exclaimed, waving her arms in the air.
‘Wow. You look really nice.’
‘Do I?’ Hayley asked, brushing her hands down the front of thered dress she’d last worn to a work Christmas party a few years ago. She didn’t know why she’d even packed it in her case but now she was very glad she had.
‘What are you going to do with your hair?’ Angel asked.
‘I’ve done my hair!’
‘Oh.’ Angel’s response wasn’t encouraging.
Hayley stared into the mirror. She’d brushed and blow-dried. What more could she do when it was in that in-desperate-need-of-a-good-cut phase?
‘Uncle Dean!’ Angel hollered. ‘Did you say Vernon used to be a hair stylist?’
‘Angel, stop!’ Hayley put her finger over her lips and tried to shush her.
Dean appeared at the door of the room. ‘You yelled… oh Hayley, you look nice.’
‘Why is everybody sounding so surprised?’ Hayley asked, folding her arms across her chest and dropping down to the bed. Things were still a little tense with Dean.
‘She needs her hair done. This is an important business dinner,’ Angel said in serious tones.
‘An importantbusinessdinner eh?’ Dean said, giving Hayley the benefit of a shamed look.
‘Can Vernon come over and cut it real quick?’ Angel asked.
‘That’sreallyquick in British English,’ Hayley commented. ‘Wait a second, no! I don’t need a haircut and Oli…’ She stopped herself quickly. ‘The person I’m having a business dinner with will be here in less than an hour.’
‘It shouldn’t take that long to zhoosh it up,’ Angel said.
‘What word was that? Zhoosh?! There is no way that’s in your special dictionary.’
‘Actually it is. Z-H-O-O-S-H. It means to make more exciting or attractive.’
