Chapter 39
39
GREENWICH VILLAGE, NEW YORK
‘So this is Greenwich Village,’ Oliver remarked after the car had dropped them off again.
Hayley sucked in some of the cold air, including a mouthful of snowflakes, one hand deep in her pocket, the other intertwined with Oliver’s. She was still on cloud nine after the fashion show. Seeing a production like that, something she would never normally have been able to get invited to, had been unbelievable. Sitting next to her absolute, number-one icon in the fashion industry had been on another level. By the end of the evening at the theatre, Hayley had felt confident enough to speak instead of squeeze and she’d complimented the designer on all her favourite collections since she’d become a fan.
Hayley sniffed. Scents of incense, spruce, chocolate and mulled wine filled her nose. There were different flavours on every corner. A man was selling Christmas trees up ahead and it reminded her that Dean still didn’t have one in the apartment. He had always been far more into Christmas than she was until Angel came along and stoked up her excitement. When Angel was little, she’d always made a paper fairy for the top of the tree. Hayley suspected making tree toppers was way too infantile for a nine-year-old now. Her daughter was growing up so fast. Then Michel came to mind. He’d walked her through Greenwich Village in their twelve hours together. He’d seemed right at home with the bohemian ambience.
She came to a stop outside a store where Christmas music was coming from the window display. There were animatronic animals moving to the sound of ‘Rockin’ Robin’. A stag was in the middle, his mouth opening and closing in time to the lyrics, two penguins sat in front, their wings lifting up and down, then there was a trio of rabbits – knitted red scarves wrapped around their necks – and half a dozen small mice, spinning round and round in circles. Fake snow was filtering down upon them and a troupe of Nutcracker soldiers moved up and down the window frame on a track, pink, wooden cheeks glowing, arms shifting forward and back.
Hayley laughed. ‘Angel would love this.’
‘What does this store sell anyhow?’ Oliver asked, trying to look for merchandise. He stepped back, looking at the sign. ‘Pet supplies,’ he remarked, shaking his head.
‘Can we go inside?’ Hayley asked him.
‘You want to go shopping for pet supplies?’
‘We enjoyed the display, Dean’s partner has a dog, come on,’ Hayley encouraged, stepping towards the door.
Oliver checked his watch. ‘We have a dinner reservation.’
‘Five minutes, I promise.’ She pulled a face she hoped was like one of Angel’s when she wanted something. It always worked for her.
‘I really hope this dog likes sequins.’
‘It isn’t really for Randy,’ Hayley responded, tucking the paper bag containing a silver sequinned waistcoat and bow tie for the pooch under her arm. ‘It’s for Angel. Fussing over that dog and dressing it up is going to take her mind off finding her father.’
Oliver swallowed. Daniel Pearson hadn’t been able to find any trace of Michel De Vos which even the private investigator thought was unusual. He was going to keep looking, try a different tack, report back as soon as he had something.
‘Still nothing?’ he asked her. Should he tell her he was looking? How would she feel about that? Pleased that he wanted to help? Or was it too much and none of his business?
She sighed. ‘I went back to Vipers last night. Another bartender there said she’d seen him recently, like in the last few weeks. I left my details.’ She swallowed. ‘Last night, it felt like all my Christmases were coming at once but in a city this big, it’s still a long shot.’
‘Hey, don’t underestimate the outside chance. Drummond Global has made a fortune on some of those.’ He smiled. ‘We’re here.’ He held his hand out, indicating the building they’d stopped at.
‘Restaurant Romario,’ Hayley said, reading the sign.
Oliver took it all in like he was seeing it for the first time. Not much had changed since he was a kid. The window frames and door had been given a fresh lick of paint but the green and red canopies over them were still the originals. His stomach rolled as if it could already taste the delicious Italian feast about to come their way. Breadsticks and olives followed by a garlic-infused lasagne.
‘I’m starving,’ Hayley announced. ‘I want the biggest pizza they’ve got.’
Oliver smiled, stifling the laughter with a hand to his mouth.
‘They do do pizza don’t they? This isn’t one of those restaurants where I won’t know the name of anything, is it? I went to a Christmas meal once where they did heirloom tomatoes and something called a mackerel escabeche. I was too scared to order anything but turkey.’
Oliver pushed at the door. ‘One thing I can tell you is, you won’t want the biggest pizza they’ve got.’
‘Are you sure about that? I’m a big eater.’
‘It takes two people to carry it,’ Oliver responded.
Hayley watched Oliver push open the door and a bell chimed above as he moved over the threshold. Heat hit her as she stepped up into the entrance and smells of oregano, parmesan, olive oil and freshly baked dough infused her nose. As she relieved herself of her coat, shaking snowflakes off the material and folding it over her arm, she watched Oliver being swallowed up in the embrace of a short, dark-haired woman in her sixties. The woman was speaking in hurried Italian and Oliver was responding, kissing both her cheeks with real affection. This was somewhere he knew well. And it was nothing like the opulent surroundings of Asian Dawn. This was a cosy restaurant, somewhere you would come to feel at ease. It wasn’t the sort of place Hayley had imagined eating dinner at tonight and, as she watched Oliver in this relaxed atmosphere, she realised that was a good thing.
The older woman shuffled forwards, dark eyes shining at Hayley. Before she had a chance to do or say anything, the woman had taken her hands and was clutching them tight in a move that suggested she was thrilled to meet her.
‘You are a very beautiful girl, very beautiful,’ Mrs Romario said, still holding on to Hayley’s hands.
‘Thank you,’ Hayley said, a little embarrassment creeping in.
‘Hayley, this is Anna Romario; this is her restaurant,’ Oliver introduced .
‘Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you,’ Hayley replied, shaking the hands that were holding on to hers with more affection.
‘This one needs a good girl,’ Mrs Romario continued, her eyes moving to Oliver.
‘Whoa there, Momma, I think that’s enough of the matchmaking right now.’
Hayley looked to the newcomer. He was taller, late twenties, with dark eyes and hair to match. He smiled and held out his hand.
‘Tony Romario,’ he introduced himself. ‘And actually, this is my restaurant now, along with two others from the Papa Gino franchise.’
‘You’re not at a networking event,’ Oliver said.
‘She’s cute,’ Tony whispered back.
‘Thank you,’ Hayley replied. She shook Tony’s hand.
Oliver smiled. ‘Hayley, this is my best friend, Tony. Tony, this is Hayley Walker.’
‘Charmed,’ Tony said, smiling. ‘Now, please, let me show you to your table.’
Hayley followed Oliver through the restaurant to a booth at the back next to a window looking out onto the street. Oliver pulled out a chair for her and she sank down into it, looking to the view outside. A group of carol singers stood across the road, the tune of ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’ just audible through the glass. A couple walked by, wrapped up in hats and scarves, taking turns to nibble on a doughnut.
Hayley turned back to the room and watched Oliver take his seat opposite.
‘A menu for madam and one for sir,’ Tony said, passing them out. ‘Can I recommend a wine or perhaps some champagne?’
‘You keep working that charm,’ Oliver joked. ‘Hayley? What would you like to drink? ’
‘I do like fizzy wine. It doesn’t have to be champagne. Sometimes, fizzy wine is actually better,’ she responded.
‘Got any fizzy wine for the lady?’ Oliver asked, looking amused.
‘Only Bollinger,’ Tony replied, not missing a beat.
‘Bollinger it is then,’ Oliver answered.
‘I’ll be right back. Oh, the specials are on the blackboard but we’re all out of the arrabbiata.’ Tony left the table and headed towards the bar area.
Hayley let out a laugh, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What is it?’
‘I had no idea you were going to bring me somewhere so… so normal.’
She watched Oliver shift in his seat and knew instinctively she’d said the wrong thing. She followed it up quickly. ‘I didn’t mean that how it came out. This place, it’s lovely.’ She looked at the other booths behind them, the round tables covered in gingham cloths, the wine bottle candles shimmering. ‘I just thought?—’
He interrupted. ‘I’d take you to a soulless restaurant on a rooftop somewhere and we’d pick over heirloom tomatoes and mackerel escabeche?’
She nodded. ‘And that was me putting my foot in it.’
He pulled in a long breath. ‘I could have taken you somewhere like that. That’s what I would usually have done but…’
Her heart was racing. The velvet texture of his tone was settling on her like a layer of snow, but warm, welcome.
‘I’ve not brought anyone here before.’ He swallowed. ‘This place is…’ He reached his hand across the table and picked a breadstick from the glass in the centre. He broke it in two. Hayley could sense his hesitation. For whatever reason, he was finding this difficult.
‘My mom and dad, me and Ben, we used to come here every Friday night without fail. It was one of the only times business was switched off and we talked about other stuff that was going on.’
Hayley leant her elbows on the table and inched herself closer. ‘Like what? School?’ She smiled harder. ‘Glee club?’
Oliver smiled. ‘No one in our family was in Glee club.’ He broke the breadstick again, pieces landing on the small plate to his right.
‘So what did a young Oliver Drummond do at school? Don’t tell me… you were president of the debating society?’ She could see him doing that. Commanding other students, leading a healthy argument about the state of the world.
He shook his head. ‘No, that was my brother.’ A sigh left him. ‘I was on the football team.’
‘A jock.’ Hayley couldn’t help the surprise touching her reply. ‘And I suppose we’re talking a funny-shaped ball rather than the kind David Beckham uses.’
He nodded, pushed a piece of breadstick into his mouth. That gave her every reason to focus on those gorgeous lips that looked just as good no matter what expression they were wearing.
‘So,’ she recovered. ‘When did you stop with the ball games and start with the hard drives?’
She watched a wistful expression appear in his hazel eyes. It seemed like his thoughts were flying far away from the Romario’s restaurant. She waited, hoping he was going to say something.
‘When I ripped apart my shoulder and couldn’t make it as a professional.’
That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting.
‘Here we are, Bollinger, a 2004 vintage. Does that meet with sir’s approval?’ Tony asked, appearing at the table, red-faced, a bottle opener between his teeth.
‘Just get it open, Tony,’ Oliver answered.