Mistletoe on 34th Street Read online

  I wanted to shut down. I wanted my sofa and my alone-time. But I also wanted to see more of Elijah, so in that respect this was a good thing. Most of all I wanted to get everyone home to their families, but I didn’t know how, I couldn’t fix it. We just had to wait out the storm. Together.

  I didn’t want to see anyone yet, so I curled back into my hotel bed and closed my eyes, letting my thoughts drift away like snowflakes.

  I went down to breakfast deliberately late, prolonging my alone-time as much as possible. I showed up to the BA meeting in the lobby with a takeaway box full of bacon, which I munched at the back of the group.

  Carl walked past me munching from his own box of bacon, towards the Virgin Atlantic gathering in the bar area. I stopped him. ‘Hey, Carl, is Jon not with you?’

  ‘No, he has the biggest hangover. He told me to bring him up some bacon after the meeting but I think I’m going to eat it all.’ He grinned and shuffled away.

  Maybe Jon won’t even remember what had happened last night, I thought.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the nice lady from BA entering the hotel, and we all fell silent so we could listen. My team gathered close.

  ‘All right, I have some good news. Good news for now, at least. But, please understand, as much as we would love to control the weather, we do not. And your safety is the most important thing for us,’ she started, disclaimering the hell out of the news she was about to deliver. ‘You won’t be flying home today, and the snow is still heavy across Europe, I’m afraid, with no let-up in sight. However, we do have you all rebooked on a flight out on the twenty-third of December, which will arrive into the UK on Christmas Eve morning, BUT … this is very much weather dependent, and on whether the runways can be cleared in time, and there’s a chance they won’t be cleared if the snow keeps falling at the rate it is now. So we’re trying to get you home for Christmas but it’s really just a waiting game now. I’d suggest keeping your fingers crossed for rain. Because rain will melt the snow,’ she added quickly, on seeing some confused faces.

  ‘So, we’re definitely here until the twenty-third, no chance of leaving earlier than that or diverting to somewhere else in Europe?’ I spoke up.

  ‘Definitely here until the twenty-third, and no chance of getting closer to the UK by other means. I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ I said, and turned to my team. ‘All right. I know you’re disappointed and I know you want to get home, but at least we have more of a solid idea of what our next few days will be like now. We don’t have to be here for a daily update any more. Silver linings.’

  Not a single one of them said a word, all of them lost in their own thoughts and worries. I looked at each of their faces and the tiniest ripple of annoyance threaded through me, and was gone as quickly as it had come. I want to go home too, but you don’t see me whining about it, said the thought.

  I turned from them. It wasn’t my job to baby them, nor could I say or do much to improve anything for them right now. I checked my phone where I had a missed call, so I moved away from the group and rang the number back.

  ‘Olivia?’ the person answered. ‘It’s Lara.’

  ‘Hi, Lara, how are you?’ I answered, surprised to hear from her.

  ‘I’m good, thanks for asking. Listen, I just spoke with Scheana – you guys are still here?’

  ‘Yep, we’ve been snowed out of the UK. The airline’s put us up at a hotel in Brooklyn though, so really we can’t complain too much.’

  ‘Do you know when you might get to go home?’

  I sighed. ‘It changes every day, which isn’t anyone’s fault. But now they’re saying the weather is just so bad the earliest we’ll be flying out will be the twenty-third.’

  ‘Right before Christmas? That’s rough. I hope you manage to get on those flights.’

  ‘Me too. New York is great, but my team are getting pretty worried about missing Christmas at home, with their families.’

  ‘I’m sure you all are.’

  Well, I wasn’t. Assuming they could still get away none of my family would be in the coun—

  Lucy! Lucy was supposed to fly yesterday – I wonder if she’d had any luck. I had to get off the phone with Lara and call her.

  ‘Listen,’ said Lara, breaking my thoughts. ‘It’s due to get a little snowier here as well over the next few days, so I’m going to head upstate today – this morning – for Christmas with my folks. Scheana and I go way back and I know she wouldn’t want you guys spending Christmas in a hotel.’

  ‘Well, we might not—’

  ‘I know, I know, you might get home. But the reason I’m calling is to say: if you’d like to all come and stay in my apartment, consider it yours. I won’t be back until New Year, I have heating, I only have two bedrooms so you guys would have to bunk in together, but it’s a home, not a hotel room. The choice is yours.’

  Wow, what a generous offer. ‘Lara, thank you, but it’s really not necessary. This hotel is perfectly nice; we have free breakfast and dinner, so we can’t complain.’

  ‘I know, and you’re British which means even if it was horrible you wouldn’t complain. But just think about it and call me back within the hour if you want to stay here, and if so I’ll leave my keys with my neighbour. Sound good?’

  Lara rang off, but before I could allow myself to consider her offer I needed to check on my sister. I first called my flat, where she was due to stay before flying, and then called my parents’ house when there was no answer.

  On the seventh ring Lucy picked up with a ‘Yo.’

  ‘Lucy? You’re still there. Your flight was cancelled?’

  ‘Yeah, it sucks. Don’t tell me yours is cancelled again because I am not spending Christmas alone like a fucking reject from life.’

  ‘Thank you, honey,’ I heard my mum call in the background.

  ‘Actually it is – the British Airways rep is now saying we won’t be coming home until the twenty-third, earliest.’

  ‘Are they going to keep paying for your hotel?’

  ‘Yes, but we just got offered an apartment – a work contact has said we could stay at her place in the Upper East Side if we don’t want to be in a hotel over Christmas. Potentially. So I’m not sure what to do.’

  ‘Um, obviously stay in the apartment, are you mental? Believe me, my travel-challenged sister; staying in a local’s house – in your case a real New Yorker’s fancy-arse flat – makes for way better memories than just being cooped up in a hotel.’

  ‘But we’d have to share rooms; we get our own space at the hotel.’

  ‘God, you and your own space. It’s Christmas, people want to be with other people, not sitting in a hotel room on their own eating endless room service noodles like a total saddo. Let people into your life, Liv. Open the door to the inn. Welcome Mary and Jo-nizzle and all the wise men and their flock.’ Lucy sniggered. ‘Anyway, I don’t care; I want to go to Thailand.’

  ‘You will. Keep checking back with the airline.’

  ‘You keep checking back with the airline.’

  ‘OK, grump-monster, put Mum on.’

  With a sigh Lucy left me and Mum came on the phone instead. ‘Hi, honey, how’s NYC?’

  ‘Actually, it’s kind of fun. If you have to be stuck somewhere at Christmas, this is clearly the place to be.’

  ‘Did you go to Tiffany’s yet?’

  ‘No, but that’s kind of why I’m ringing.’

  Mum gasped. ‘Jon proposed?’

  ‘What? No! Mum, of course he didn’t bloomin’ propose, we’re not even going out with each other. I’m ringing to say I’ll be here a few more days. Is there any news on your flight to Lanzarote?’

  ‘Tenerife, and no. At the moment the website still says it’s running, but it’s not for another four days yet, so we’ll see. Maybe the snow will have melted a bit by then. Your dad and I are in holiday mode no matter what happens.’

  ‘It’s disgusting,’ said Lucy coming back on the line. ‘They won’t stop playing r
eggae music and drinking sugar-free margaritas.’

  ‘Dad’s drinking margaritas?!’

  ‘I know, and they go right to his head. He is literally asleep all the time.’

  ‘Why aren’t you at my flat?’

  ‘Your flat is depressing.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’

  Mum took control of the phone again. ‘Keep in touch, honey, and enjoy these extra days in the Big Apple. This kind of opportunity doesn’t come along often, and you’re with some lovely people.’

  No sooner had we hung up than one of those lovely people appeared in front of me.

  ‘This is bullshit,’ declared Jasmine. ‘Abigail won’t stop crying.’

  Behind her Abigail sniffled. ‘We’re not going to be home for Christmas, are we?’

  ‘We might be—’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Jasmine repeated.

  ‘Enough, Jasmine,’ I snapped, glaring at her. ‘You don’t think I want to be going home too? You think I want to be stuck here with you any more than you want to be with me? But we’re all in the same boat so can you please, for crying out loud, wipe that sneer off your face and act like a grown-ass woman.’

  We don’t need to evaluate whether or not I can carry off saying the phrase ‘grown-ass woman’, because the message had appeared to hit home regardless. Jasmine’s face had frosted over like it was the runway at Heathrow itself, and she was silently glaring off to the side and refusing to meet my eye. The rest of my team were staring at me, dumbfounded. Even Abigail had stopped crying, and appeared to have the tiniest of smiles on her face.

  I flared my nostrils and took a deep breath to calm myself down. I looked away and straight into the eyes of Jon, who was at the bottom of the staircase holding a coffee cup, which he raised to me in silent congratulations.

  I would love a Jon hug right now, I realised. I wanted to sink into him and smell his woodsmoky coat and have him look at me with those milk chocolate eyes and for last night not to have happened. I wondered … Well, one thing at a time.

  ‘Listen, everybody, I just had a phone call,’ I said, trying to rally the troops back in. Abigail, Ian and Dee listened dutifully like teacher’s pets (which I loved) and Jasmine pursed her lips and looked down at her shoes. ‘As you know, I had dinner with Lara Green from Green PR the other night. She just called and made us a very kind offer in light of our current situation, which I want to talk to you about.’

  My eyes flicked back to Jon, who was yawning like a sleepy pup and rubbing his eyes. Focus, Liv. ‘We’re definitely here for at least another three nights, so Lara very kindly said that if we didn’t want to stay in the hotel she’d be more than happy for us all to stay at her apartment, which is in the Upper East Side. She only has two rooms though, and I assume a living room, so some of us might have to bunk with others. What do you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Abigail, before I’d barely got the question out. ‘I mean, if it’s OK with everyone else. I just don’t want to be in a hotel any more, as nice as it is here; I want to be in a home.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘So that’s one yes. We won’t get the free food over there that we do here, remember.’

  ‘But we’ll have a kitchen. We could make Pop-Tarts?’ Abigail asked with hope.

  I had to smile at that, a girl after my own heart. ‘Yes we could. How about the rest of you?’

  Dee was struggling not to look at Ian too much, but said, ‘I think it might be really nice to be back in Manhattan, right by Central Park. This hotel is lovely, it’s been lovely, but if we’re definitely here for a few more days we might as well make the most of New York at Christmastime.’

  ‘All right, so Abi and Dee are in, and I’m guessing … yep, that’s a yes from Ian. Jasmine? What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to stay here.’

  ‘Jasmine, just come to the apartment, we’re not going to leave you here on your own.’

  ‘Uh, I’ll be absolutely fine, thanks. I am a “grown-ass woman”, you know.’

  ‘Come on—’

  ‘No, I want to stay. You guys go. I can’t understand for the life of me why you’d give up a free hotel room and free meals for some tiny apartment where half of you will be sleeping on the floor, but whatever. I’ll see you on the flight home.’

  What should I do? She didn’t need babysitting, and work was over – this was my holiday time now, even if I was here with a bunch of people I’d never choose to spend my holidays with.

  ‘Fine.’ I nodded. ‘In that case, I’ll call Lara and tell her we’re in. Jasmine, I’ll leave you her address in case you change your mind, and I’ll let the BA rep know that some of us won’t be using our rooms any more. And I’ll ask her to call me with any other updates. Let’s meet back down here at eleven a.m.?’

  My team dispersed without another word and I stood on the spot for a moment, lost in thought. Was I really about to leave one of my team behind? But this was New York City; a concrete jungle, but hardly the middle of an actual jungle. I may be in charge, but I couldn’t control everything, the rational part of me told myself. At peace with my decision … sort of … I looked up to locate the BA rep and my breath caught. Jon. I’d forgotten he was standing there. We looked at each other and for that moment I was transported right back to last night when he was at my door.

  ‘Morning,’ he said.

  ‘Morning. How are you feeling?’

  He smiled, a little sheepishly. ‘Like I’ve never been so pleased not to have to get onto an aircraft today. Like I need a thousand coffees. Like maybe I shouldn’t have come to your hotel room last night … ?’

  I wondered if he remembered everything he’d said too. I felt myself blush, but couldn’t help smiling. ‘That’s fine. It’s always nice to have a visitor. And to be fair, you only came to hang around my corridor – I was the one who opened the door and started chatting to you.’

  He nodded, noticeably a little embarrassed. ‘Are you leaving the hotel?’

  ‘Yep. The British Airways rep told us we won’t fly out until the twenty-third at the earliest so we’re going to stay somewhere else. What did Virgin say?’

  ‘Same. I guess the message is coming from Heathrow centrally. So where are you going?’

  ‘That woman I met up with for work the other night – Lara? She has an apartment in the Upper East Side, and she’s heading home for Christmas this morning. She thought it would be nicer for us to not have to stay in a hotel over the holidays, and my team think so too. And my sister Lucy, evidently.’

  ‘That’s a nice offer.’ He paused, staring into his coffee cup. ‘When do you leave?’

  ‘In about an hour.’ Things were never this awkward between us, and there was now no doubt in my mind that he remembered perfectly well everything he said last night. But I didn’t like it – he was my friend, my Jon, and I didn’t want to leave things this way. ‘Wait a minute!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jasmine doesn’t want to come; she’s going to stay here.’

  ‘You’re leaving her with me? Thanks a lot,’ Jon laughed.

  ‘No, you should come. You should come and stay at the apartment with us, it’ll be so much more fun with you there – you know how rubbish I am with making people feel Christmassy. There are two bedrooms, so some people will have to share.’ I blushed, realising what I’d just insinuated. ‘I was thinking boys in one room, girls in the other.’

  ‘I think … that sounds like a really strange, but fun, way to spend our last few days here. Maybe we could all cook a Christmas meal together?’

  ‘Sure. My contribution will be pizza.’

  ‘Wait, what about Carl? I can’t leave Carl.’

  ‘You don’t think he’d like to befriend Jasmine?’

  ‘I couldn’t do that to him. Do you think Lara would mind one extra? Perhaps he and I could take the living room floor? If not, I’ll stay here. And resent Carl for a while.’

  ‘I’ll phone her and ask her now, but I’m sure she won’t mind, she’s really
easy-going. Oh this is going to be fun. Go and get packing, mister.’ I went in for a quick hug but he held on and squeezed me tight and I laughed into his neck. There was my Jon hug …

  Lara was fine with the numbers change, so an hour later, with one last glance around the lobby for Jasmine, in case she’d changed her mind, off our merry band of six went. We piled ourselves and all of our suitcases and coats and belongings and limbs into a people carrier that would take us over the Brooklyn Bridge and uptown to 74th Street.

  Lara lived in a lovely neighbourhood – all delicatessens, coffee shops and boutique hotels, as well as residential buildings that had smart entranceways and long zig-zag fire escapes like on the Friends building. Her own apartment block was at the very end of the road, overlooking the East River, and after Lara’s neighbour let us in and we all navigated up the spiral staircase with our suitcases to the apartment on the fifth floor, discussions turned to sleeping arrangements.

  ‘The girls should just go in one room and the boys in the other,’ said Abigail, to which there were nods of agreement.

  ‘That might be a little cramped though,’ Jon said. ‘I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa in the living room.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I added. ‘I mean, instead of, not together.’

  ‘Maybe we should take turns?’ suggested Dee.

  The apartment was lovely. Small, but with a spacious feel. Soft lighting, lots of cushions, and modern art paintings in shades of turquoise on the walls. The two bedrooms led off the living room – one was clearly Lara’s own bedroom, which I thought the girls should take as it seemed the respectful thing to do, and one a guest bedroom. At the other end of the apartment the living room became a kitchen area, where a stack of coffees and hot chocolates had been left for us, together with a welcome note. And in pride of place by the window, ‘A Christmas tree!’ I cried. I was becoming weirdly fond of those.

  ‘So, um, back to the room situation,’ Ian said, clearing his throat and glancing at Dee, and everyone launched into expressing their own opinions on the situation again.

  I pulled Ian aside, out of the door of the living room and into the apartment’s corridor, leaving the others politely arguing about who would take the worst of the bed options. ‘Ian, come on. I know. And you know I know.’