‘Dinner?’ Oliver suggested.
‘Where’s your originality? Food is good but you need something more.’
‘Cocktails?’
‘Clichéd.’
‘Philharmonic orchestra?’
‘You can talk over violins?’
He stabbed his pen at the pad in front of him and picked up the stress baseball. ‘Why is this so difficult?’
‘Because you care.’ Clara smiled. ‘What are her interests?’
The question jarred his thought process. He didn’t know. They had met three times now, had conversation, kissed, and he had no idea what she liked.
‘I don’t know.’ He felt pathetic. ‘She has a daughter.’
‘EvenIknew that. Think, Oliver.’
‘She’s smart.’ He stood up. ‘I don’t necessarily mean intellectually so…’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know that. But she’s a smart talker, knows how the world works, finds the fun in everything. Fights me for the last word.’
‘Feisty and fun-loving.’ Clara nodded, making notes on her clipboard.
‘Am I wasting my time here, Clara?’ He turned towards her.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Should it be this hard?’
‘The very best things in life are the ones you have to fight for.’
He swallowed, a feeling of melancholy washing over him. ‘My father used to say that.’
‘I know he did.’ Clara smiled. ‘And then he would tell the story about the boat capsizing.’
The story he had recalled just last night had been told at every networking event his father had attended since he was old enough to go with him to them. It had only been replaced with something else when Ben had died. Then it had been all about life being too short, making the most of what you had, no longer about going out and aiming big, fighting for what you wanted. Richard Drummond’s success hadn’t dwindled after Ben’s death but his outlook on life definitely had.
His eyes lit up as a light bulb went on. ‘How about Greenwich Village?’
Clara smiled. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’
Empire State Building, Midtown Manhattan
‘Did you know there are 102 floors in this place? Reasons Christmas is better in New York number fifty-five: exercise whilst visiting iconic buildings,’ Hayley said. She breathed in the wintery air and leaned against the barricade of the eighty-sixth-floor main deck. The temperature had dropped below freezing, which meant a wind that bit but no snow and a bright, clear blue sky with a sun doing its best to heat the city up.
‘I’ve waited eighty-six floors for you to tell me about my dad. I’m not going to wait sixteen more.’
Hayley felt the bitterness in Angel’s words and saw the anxious expression just visible under Dean’s New York Rangers beanie she had borrowed. Acting on maternal instinct, she reached for the collar of Angel’s coat and refastened the undone top button.
‘Mum,’ Angel said, shaking herself away.
‘Look out there, Angel,’ Hayley pointed to the vast expanse of skyscrapers below them, laid out like a glass and metal picnic blanket. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘Please, Mum.’
She let out a sigh, her breath hot mist in the air. She’d told Dean she was going to tell Angel up here. She’d kidded herself that she was ready. But Angel overhearing the earlier conversation meant it wasn’t something she could hide away in her diary any more. It was time to face the music, and the consequences.
