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Experience the magical romance of a New York Christmas in this classic tale from #1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Wiggs…
Elaine St. James has it all—a thriving career as an elite Manhattan publicist, A-list best friends and a gorgeous, high-profile boyfriend her parents adore. But when Byron breaks up with her on Christmas Eve, Elaine is faced with the prospect of spending the holidays alone…until the man she loved long ago reappears, much like a ghost from Christmas past.
Tony Fiore was everything her Upper East Side parents wanted Elaine to avoid—the Italian-American boy from Brooklyn was hardly an ideal match for their perfect socialite daughter. Despite their differences, they always found themselves together on Christmas Eve, ice-skating at Rockefeller Center. Until the year Tony failed to show up, and broke Elaine’s heart. Now, seven years later, on another Christmas Eve, they might finally have a second chance at first love…
The St. James Affair
Susan Wiggs
Table of Contents
ELAINE ST. JAMES hurried along Fifth Avenue, trying to outrun Christmas, but it was gaining on her. She was only a few steps ahead of a troop of apple-cheeked carolers belting out “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and collecting donations from shoppers and tourists. She dodged to avoid a Santa reeling in the crosswalk, his breath smelling of too much holiday cheer too early in the day.
Although she had a cell phone glued to her ear, Elaine could barely hear Byron, her boyfriend. Still, she’d heard enough to know the news was not good.
“A bra model?” she yelled into the tiny daisy-decorated phone.
His response was a garbled remark ending in “Huh?”
And so she yelled even louder, “You’re dumping me for a bra model?”
Too late, she realized the heralds had stopped harking, and the stoplight had brought traffic to a halt. Everyone within half a city block had heard her.
Caught in the glare of dozens of curious looks, Elaine dropped her hand to her side and hitched her purse strap up on her shoulder. Byron’s mosquito-voiced reply squawked faintly from the receiver, but she didn’t want to hear another word. Belying the flames of humiliated color in her cheeks, she held her head high and said to no one in particular, “Whatever.”
Then she clicked off her Star-Tac, turned on her kitten-heeled boot and headed up the street. Behind her, traffic started up as the light changed. The carolers struck up “Silver Bells,” and the city sidewalks became busy sidewalks again.
Okay, so it’s Christmas, Elaine told herself, appalled to feel a sudden sting of tears in her eyes. Tears. Not for Byron, she realized. But for yet another dream gone, just like that. It was hard to say goodbye to a dream, hard to close the door on hope.
Elaine squared her shoulders and soldiered on down the avenue. The fact was, she had enormous reserves of self-discipline. She’d been raised to do what was expected of her, and she was extremely good at it. She just had to get through the day. How hard could that be?
She tried to get into the spirit of children laughing, people passing. She saw smile after smile and even made a valiant attempt at smiling herself, but it felt more like gritting her teeth.
Why was Christmas so easy for some people, but so impossible for Elaine? Where had she been when they were passing out Christmas spirit?
She knew where she’d been—in the chill confines of the right boarding school, the right summer camp, the right college. She’d been so busy training herself to do what was expected of her that she’d forgotten to ask herself what the point of all her efforts was.
At the next crosswalk, a woman laden with glossy bags and beribboned parcels shoved herself in Elaine’s way like a barge pushing into port. Elaine bit her lip to keep from making some smart remark, but she couldn’t help scowling. She was later than ever for her lunch, and in no mood. Given her current situation, a slight edge of crankiness was justifiable.
There had been a time, long ago, when the bustle and noise of the season had filled
