grin was wicked. ‘I really do need your advice. But maybe we can go out later.’ He turned to Andi. ‘Can I please borrow Rosie? It’s about the party.’
My God, he was fearless in the face of danger. ‘It shouldn’t take longer than her lunch hour.’
As if I ever got a lunch hour. ‘But we might be a few minutes late getting back. We have to go to Tiffany’s to pick out Christmas presents for the party.’
Seeing Andi’s face, Digby grimaced and practically ran into the back room. I was tempted to join him. Chuck had no idea how hard he was making things for me.
In about a nanosecond, Andi’s expression morphed from thunderous to sweet-as-you-please. ‘Of course. Anything for our clients. Rosie can take all the time she needs to help. We’ll see you later.’
Translation: You’ll pay for this later and don’t even think about being gone longer than your legally allowed lunch hour. You’re lucky you’re even getting that.
But how could I say any of that to Chuck in front of Andi, when the only thing worse than making my boss angry was making her look bad? ‘I won’t be long,’ I murmured when I caught her shooting daggers at Chuck’s back as we left.
He waited till we rounded the corner, checked that no one from the hotel was watching, and grabbed my hand. ‘I really do have to pick out corporate gifts for the party, but I wanted you to come here with me. It sounds lame, I know, but Audrey Hepburn was my sister’s favourite actress. She force-fed me Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I want to go there with you. Though I can’t promise not to bawl. Just thinking about the end of that movie gets me every time.’
‘Cat!’ I wailed, causing people around us to glance over.
Later, as we squeezed through the revolving doors together at Tiffany’s, he hummed ‘Moon River’ into my ear. It couldn’t be any more romantic.
But we didn’t see each other again until the Christmas party. Our work schedules were nearly exactly opposite now. Andi scheduled me on the five-to-one shift, probably in retaliation for my afternoon disappearance. And Chuck got his next assignment – organising all the firm’s year-end investor meetings – so he was working straight through, from early in the morning until late at night. We did get to snatch quick calls with each other during the day when Digby could cover for me. And we had long rambling conversations late most nights while Chuck was on the train back to Scarsdale.
But I was going round the bend, dying to see him. Chuck was addictive. ‘I know it’s frustrating with work,’ he said, ‘but we’ll see each other at the party. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’
‘That’s bollocks. Absence just makes you frustrated.’
He laughed. ‘I can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re going to look gorgeous.’
I could hardly stand the romance – imagine sipping champagne and dancing with the hottest bloke in the beautiful art deco room at the top of the hotel. Except …
‘Yes, but we can’t be together at the party,’ I pointed out. As far as everyone except Digby knew, Chuck was the hotel’s major client and I was his event planner. It was strictly forbidden to bring one’s romantic life into work. If Andi even suspected there was anything between us, she could scupper my Paris assignment. And she definitely would too. That woman had icicles in her heart. No, colder than icicles. Dry ice.
‘We’ll get together,’ he promised, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
‘Oh, really.’
‘Trust me, I’ve got a plan for us.’
I did trust him.
Was I in love with Chuck already? I think so. At least I was in the snow-blind kind of mad lusty love that can come at the start of a relationship. It may not have had the depth of love that develops over time, but it had every bit of the intensity.
‘He does clean up well,’ Digby said, when he saw Chuck coming through the hotel lobby on the night of the party.
‘You look beautiful,’ Chuck whispered so that only I heard him. Andi had let me switch my usual grey uniform for a plain black dress, but I’d wanted to wear a frock to make Chuck think I looked like a princess. Or at least one of the minor royals.
‘Where do you keep your phone in that dress?’ he teased.
I held up my silver and diamante handbag. ‘It’s surprisingly practical. There’s an entire toolbox in here. And the kitchen sink.’
‘It’s handy to have the toolbox in case the sink springs a leak.’
‘I didn’t see any problems upstairs, but you might want to go up and check before your bosses get here. I’ll be up at seven.’
The caterers were going full tilt in the kitchen. The bar staff were already in position and the sound system and lights had all gone up around me the night before while I hurled tinsel all over the Christmas trees. I know it wasn’t my party per se, but I couldn’t wait for Chuck to see it.
The room sparkled with royal blue and silver baubles and ribbons nestled in pine branch garlands wrapped in fairy lights. All the art deco mirrors magnified the effect. Little round tables with fringe-draped lamps, like they had in Prohibition-era speakeasies, dotted the edges of the parquet dance floor. Twelve-foot-tall live Christmas trees, trimmed in blue and silver, of course, stood in three of the corners of the huge room – the fourth was taken up by the DJ. She didn’t have to spin her records till later, though, because against the back wall was a sixteen-piece old-timey jazz orchestra.
I’d love to be dancing with Chuck to their music. In my mind I was Ginger Rogers. In reality I was probably more Gangnam Style.
But I needed to push those thoughts aside to focus on my job, because I was a professional. From a purely careerist point of view, the party would be something else to put on my CV… as long as it went well. If it didn’t, then the last month of work would have been for nothing.
Well, not exactly for nothing, I thought, as I watched Chuck’s face when he came into the room.
He laughed and shook his head as he took it all in. I’d emailed him about the decorations, but they were so much more lush and blingy in real life. Walking into the room felt like being wrapped in a big sparkly Christmas hug.
Chuck beamed and nodded in my direction, but he couldn’t come over. His bosses were on either side of him. Then the whole company seemed to enter the room at once –sharply tuxedoed powerful-looking men and young elegant women. Suddenly he wasn’t my Chuck anymore. He was swallowed up by his Wall Street colleagues.
These were the women Chuck worked with every day! He’d mentioned that the firm hired from the top schools where everyone was super-clever. I imagined a bunch of speccy number-crunchers in corduroys and cardigans. These girls looked like they’d just strutted off the Victoria’s Secret catwalk.
I hated every bit of them, from the tops of their artfully messy hairdos to the tips of their flawlessly painted toes and all the cleavage in the middle. With so many micro dresses and plunging necklines in the room, my little black dress seemed too prim. And as much as I told myself I was there to do my job, the only thing I wanted was for Chuck to notice me.
But
