Chapter 15
SANTA ON A BIKE
CANDY
It was just before six o’clock, and the sun had already descended for the evening.
Nick was working at the bar, and I was taking Eloise shopping and out to dinner at a restaurant.
That meant there’d be no formal dinner at seven as was usual in our home.
Which was probably for the best given our recent misuse of his Christmas gift.
Not that I was dwelling on it. There were many more important things occupying my mind, like the invitation I had received to a private shoe shopping event at the department store with exclusive access.
Everything about the evening promised to be magical, and it had only just begun.
The city was illuminated mostly from the skyscrapers and storefronts on Fifth Avenue and 58th Street.
Classical music was being piped into the streets, probably to evoke a sense of the holiday since it was getting close, but it wasn’t enough to stop the New Yorkers bustling about.
Except maybe me. It gave me pause, reminding me of when my favorite department store had unveiled their holiday window display. It had been a sight to behold.
To me, that was the best part of the season.
Stores and shopping were the beating heart of the holidays.
For that reason, it was easy to put aside everything that was going on in my life and spend time with my sister.
No doubt, the items we would purchase tonight would look very different, but the bags on the outside that carried our treasures would look the same.
In many ways, it was a lot like us—different yet the same.
Now that right there was poetry in its best form.
Currently, Eloise was donating to a Santa, so I was able to stand in front of the same window display that I’d watched be unveiled and cherish the moment. As she finally joined me, she righted the hat on her head, making sure that it covered her ears, and smiled. “Ready?”
“As ever,” I answered while a Santa on a bike rode by.
We pushed open the brass handle on the heavy glass door and stepped foot inside, met with luxury designer handbags and fine jewelry that brought a twinkle to my eyes. One deep inhalation of Italian leather, and I knew I was home.
This was as good as life would probably ever get. I felt everything all at once.
It was exhilarating.
Heart-pounding.
It was as though fireworks detonated behind my eyes when I strolled into stores like this.
“We’re going to the shoe floor,” I explained to Eloise, who was busy being distracted by just about everything her gaze passed over.
She may not have been accustomed to this, but that didn’t mean I wanted to take her on a tour of the place while we swapped stories about our times at department stores.
Not that she had many stories to tell. I didn’t know what she had been up to most days, but I knew that she didn’t have the same love for shopping as I did.
And the last thing I wanted or needed was for her to derail me and make me miss out on even a sliver of this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
She gasped, the noise not necessarily problematic in a store as big as this, as filled with shoppers as it was. “I adore shoes. Do you think we’ll get to try some on? My tootsies are ready to rock and roll, if you know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, I did. Although sometimes I wished I didn’t understand her. It would make it easier to ignore the question I often had of whether one of us were switched at birth. Not really, but still.
Scrunching her nose, she squealed. “They’re tired of being in all of these boots. It’s like been there, done that. I swear, I don’t know how you do it, Cici, living in New York during these cold ass winters. I’m surprised your girls haven’t lost their nubs.”
Okay, now I was fuzzy on what she was getting at.
Not that I would be asking for clarification in this lifetime.
Or the next. Listen, I knew it was horrible, but I was still busy cringing at her use of the term tootsies.
I couldn’t help it. I actually feared for what her feet might have looked like.
Sorry, but anyone who called their toes tootsies scared me, sister or not.
“Why don’t we take it slow?” And by slow, I meant check out everything and make a mental list of all the pairs we wanted to buy. Without trying any of them on, though, thereby exposing her feet.
We stepped off the escalator and into shoe paradise.
We were promptly met by a server holding a silver tray filled with champagne flutes.
The corners of my lips turned up in a genuine smile.
It was difficult not to consider whether this was what heaven looked like.
If I’d died and gone there, then there was absolutely no need for me to return.
This was quite possibly my romanticized version of heaven.
I brought the glass to my lips and allowed the bubbles to dance on my tongue while my eyes danced in their own right. “I have never been happier,” I said, speaking my mind without giving it much thought.
She gripped my arm. “I’m happy to be here with you too.”
Oh. She thought I was happy because… I swallowed, letting out a shaky laugh. “That’s a lovely thing,” I replied, clearing my throat.
In the corner of the floor, I spotted the famous French shoe designer chatting with who I only assumed was a personal styling assistant.
I had to find a way to converse with him this evening.
If I were a child, and this was an amusement park, I’d insist on getting his autograph.
Since neither of those things were the case, I’d settle for a nice chat about his designs and maybe get him to personally recommend a new style to me.
My only hope was that Eloise didn’t find a way to embarrass herself. “Just—” I turned around and went to finish my thought, but she was gone.
Great, so my fears had been grounded in reality. I looked around, my gaze bouncing from one area to the next before I became fed up. I didn’t see her, and a pit formed in my stomach.
She was an adult and could take care of herself, but she was also a disaster. She was careless, drew attention to herself, and was completely out of her element here.
Scanning the floor for a second time, this time much slower than the last, I noticed several details I’d missed before. I would have been able to appreciate them more had it been any other time, but not now. Where was Eloise?
Then it happened…there was a big bang, and my stomach rolled over on itself before my heart lurched into my throat.
Eloise.
Following the terrifying sound, I found Eloise on the floor with a former display of shoes. Expensive shoes. Her arms were flailing about as if disconnected from her body.
Oh my heavens.
Suddenly, everyone on the floor was rushing over to her, and I wished I had a blanket I could hide under. The only saving grace was that because this was a private event, the usual crowds weren’t here, which meant fewer people to see her faux pas.
I casually strolled closer to the scene and narrowed my eyes as a store employee helped her up. “Eloise, are you okay?” I asked, intentionally keeping my voice measured out of fear I might do something wild like overreact and only further draw attention to us.
She nodded and dusted herself off. If her clothes weren’t wrinkled before, they certainly were now. In a word, she looked disheveled. It was a tragedy. “Yeah, I was just—”
“Maybe we should go.” Even as the words left my mouth, I didn’t really mean them. Well, I did because I couldn’t risk something else going awry. But it was the last thing in this world I wanted to do.
She shook her head profusely. “No, no.” I knew she’d never get over the guilt of making me leave, but it was for the best. How could I ever show my face in this store again?
Just then, the designer I was ready to drool over approached us out of the blue. “Mesdames,” he greeted, extending a hand. “I hope everything is all right.”
My eyes grew wide, my breathing labored, and my heart practically thumping out of my chest. He was talking to me. Me. Well, us…but…me. Don’t faint. Don’t faint.
I jutted my hand out, and this charming Adonis actually bent down and kissed my hand. Flush warmed my cheeks at the brush of his lips against my skin. I didn’t think I’d be able to go outside and slip my gloves on out of fear I’d tarnish the spot that was now akin to gold on my body.
He turned to Eloise and did the same, not that my sister would appreciate the moment or gesture.
Proving my point, she curtsied and giggled. Giggled! “Yes, I just had a little slip-a-roo. Thank you for checking on us.”
“Of course,” he responded, guiding her to a settee. Then he snapped his fingers and the stylist approached. “Let’s show these beauties something special from my new collection.” He turned and gestured for me to join them.
Perfect, so I’m an afterthought. This was my invitation, but fine.
Still giggling, Eloise raised her shoulders and looked down. If she was going for bashful, she was clearly missing the boat. And since she couldn’t be bothered to say anything at all, I stepped over.
“You’re too kind,” I gushed, which was the appropriate response. Not whatever Eloise was busy doing.
As we tried on several pairs of shoes, a few other women came and left the floor for the event. None of whom were noteworthy.
“I’m going to hit up the restroom. This cold weather is making me pee a lot more frequently than I usually do. I feel like our grandmother.”
I nodded as she stepped away and gave all of my attention over to the soft-spoken words being exchanged not far from me.
I was shamelessly eavesdropping on a conversation about how the designer was looking to hire someone to work with him. The things he spoke about, the work he wanted, didn’t sound like administrative work or work that an assistant would do, but heavy lifting in the thick of fashion and design.