He decided to get some hot chocolate as she did so. Sitting on the bench overlooking the rink, he gazed at the skaters and wondered what each of them did for a living.
A few teenagers skated by with their girl friends - obviously ditching school. They kept trying to bump each other on purpose to impress their ladies. Next came by a more reserved older couple - making the most of a day off from work, perhaps? Or tourists even – the woman had a look about her that could have been European. Then an older woman with grey hair pulled into a ponytail passed by. She had on a purple cashmere sweater and a black skating skirt with black leggings. Greg raised his eyebrows; there was a story behind that one, for sure.
After about half an hour or so, the girl from the kiosk finally reappeared, giving him the signed release forms and allowing him to shoot.
Greg duly took a few shots on the ice and then from the benches. As he did, the old lady in the purple sweater walked on her skates over to him. ‘You a student?’ she asked.
He laughed. ‘No, I work for theNYT.’ He felt the words roll off his tongue as if he had been saying them his whole life.
She raised her eyebrows, ‘Really?’ Greg could detect a slight Russian accent. ‘Well, sorry to bother you, you were so tall and lean, I thought maybe you were a new skating student … ’
‘Why – are you a teacher?’
She snorted slightly, ‘Yes, you could say that. I am Madame Vera Treynovitch, ex-ballerina of the Paris Opera Ballet Company and full-time skating instructor. My specialty ispas de deux.’ She placed hands on her hips and Greg studied her; she looked at least ninety.
‘Can I take a picture of you?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She said it in a no-nonsense tone (no coyness where she was concerned) and immediately struck a pose, her skates crossed and her hands lifted into a graceful position, her head tilted to something beyond his shoulder. As he raised his camera, Greg had the sense that she had suddenly gone back in time a few decades.
When he’d finished, he asked her if she gave lessons to couples.
‘Of course,’ she said, her eyes sparkling.
She gave him a card with her full name, Madame Vera Treynovitch written in purple script, and Greg thanked her, thinking that it could be an additional Christmas gift for Karen. Naturally her main present would be the big surprise proposal and Nonna’s vintage ring, but this might be a nice idea for a romantic outing over the holiday season.
His mother had adored skating and he recalled countless Christmas outings with her and Jeff here and at Bryant Park and over at Rockefeller. But sadly those days were over.
He noticed the older woman smile at him, a strange expression on her face, almost as if she’d been reading his mind.
‘This woman, she is very special to you, yes?’ Madame Vera asked, and Greg wasn’t quite sure if he was referring to his mother or Karen.
His response worked either way.
‘Very much so.’
‘Well then, come back soon and let me teach you and your lady how to move together as one. Skating, it is a bit like true love – both parties must move fluidly in tandem together in order to achieve true perfection.’
Greg gulped a little at her words. Ever since he’d packed in the job, it felt as though he and Karen were the very opposite of ‘in tandem’. Still, he reassured himself, the proposal would sort that, and soon he and Karen would be on course for ‘true perfection’ yet again.
34
Later that day, Holly stood behind the checkout tallying store totals. Briefly, she checked her watch. Still two hours to go until close.
Glancing out through the front windows of the store, she saw that it was snowing again.
‘How are things?’ Carole asked, approaching Holly from behind. Somewhat startled, she jumped.
‘Oh, I didn’t hear you! I should put bells on you to stop you from sneaking up on me.’
Carole laughed. ‘You look a million miles away.’
She shook her head and shrugged, going back to reviewing the store totals. ‘Oh, I suppose it’s this bracelet. I have to admit, I’ve been somewhat consumed by it.’
Carole bent down to pick up a stray piece of the tissue paper that they used to wrap customer purchases. It had drifted to the floor like some sort of deflated ghost, tired of haunting.
‘Well, you’ve certainly been doing your due diligence in finding the owner, I’ll say that much. And from what you have told me, you seem to be making progress.’
Holly shrugged again, somewhat half-heartedly. She pressed print and waited for an inventory list to be ejected from the printer. ‘I’ve been trying.’
