‘Yes, sitting in the last pew. Maria’s with her.’
‘Thanks Mike, you know how much this means to us – especially now.’
‘Yes. I know,’ Father Mike shook his head indulgently. ‘And actually I think it’s wonderful.’
Going inside, Jeff approached his wife and took her hand. ‘Ready sweetheart?’ he said. ‘It’s almost midnight.’
Cristina turned around and despite her frailty, gave him a radiant smile that reminded him of how she’d looked on their honeymoon in Florence all those years ago.
Like a movie star.
‘Of course.’
Taking her hand, Jeff - aided by Maria - led his beloved wife to the back of the church, towards the area where the candles stood.
And as the midnight bells began to toll, signalling the end of one year and welcoming another, as always Jeff and Cristina Matthews lit a candle to celebrate all the things for which they were thankful that year, and the good things they hoped would come in the next.
‘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 charm bracelet. She looked at her husband. ‘But how … ?’
He shook his head. ‘Seems you lost it somewhere. How we got it back is a complete mystery.’
Cristina smiled knowingly. ‘Oh, I think you’d be surprised …’
74
Abell 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.
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 garments … 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 or someone asks us to sell some of their stuff, I wonder about what those dresses and blouses and hats 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 my son’s girlfriend, 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 well 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.’
