A Nightingale in Parkleigh Square

Chapter Twenty-Two

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C hristmas at Van Stewart's was over, even though the celebratory day hadn't arrived. The store would be dark for the next few days, coming to life again for the January 2 debut with an exclusive sale and its first mini runway previewing the exclusive London line.

January third, the ornaments and trees would disappear, with greenery turning to compost, antique and vintage items sold or returned to Lea's firm. All the bulk ornaments and upcycled pieces they didn't want to keep, donated to a secondhand shop for resale. The lights company and the projector rental services would come collect their merchandise, and the windows of the Billington would showcase mannequins wearing winter sweaters and designer ski suits.

Nina spent the morning after the party talking to her dad on the phone about Christmas plans, promising to bring a box of shortbread as a souvenir present for everyone in the family to try, and to pick up some imported dried fruit at a shop in Manhattan for her grandmother's Christmas cake.

"Okay, dad, talk to you later. I have to check in with Val before I go to the store."

"Can't wait for you to be home, honey. Mama says come soon, she's putting up the tree, all the decorations, she thinks midnight Mass on Christmas Eve can't come soon enough."

"Okay, okay, I'll be home in a couple of days," she answered. "Love you, papa." She disconnected the call.

"Was that your dad?" said Molly, who was coming back from grabbing a couple of yogurt cups for breakfast at the shop down the lane from their inn. "I hope you said hi from me."

"I did," said Nina, taking the one with pear fruit mixed in.

"My dad's bugging me about talking my brother into giving up Christmas Day brunch so we can all sleep in and do a late Chinese lunch instead," said Molly. "My family is always crazy this time of year. It must be something the manufacturers put in Christmas cookies." She dropped her coat on the chair. "I booked my ticket already. Bradley says he's going to stay on a couple of days at the studio and pack up all the stuff we're keeping. He found a place that will ship a couple of boxes at reasonable cost."

"He's really great," said Nina. "I don't know what we would do without him." She took a bite of yogurt. "Kind of like doing without one of us."

"Maybe we won't have to find out," said Molly, stretching out on her bed. "Maybe he'll flunk interior design college and stay with us. Sheesh, I am exhausted after last night. I can't believe I actually danced to a live orchestra. Those pumps I was wearing are instruments of torture."

Nina's spoon dipped into the yogurt's creamy interior, swirling it around in a half circle, as her brain only half-listened to Molly's complaints against high heels.

At the Billington, the main floor was silent, except for Nina's footsteps as she crossed to the control board under the stairs, checking to be sure that the main power had been switched off. The stash of spare batteries was stowed underneath, ready for installation on the day before the grand opening, beside Nina's professional kit containing extra glitter, glue, and prisms, just in case. She didn't need to leave it here, now that the party was over, because she usually restocked it with different supplies for the next job.

She gathered up her materials. Next time she would be here to work, customers would be walking the main floor as Display by Design stood on ladders to remove these ornaments.

She gazed up at it, admiring their hard work one more time. Things would be back to normal in no time, or would they be? She wasn't so certain, although nothing had seemed different when they first came.

Another set of footsteps crossed the floor. Simone was here, too. To her astonishment, the designer came to join her. She must have been working in her office today.

"It is quite beautiful," said Simone. "You have done very well. It truly looked extraordinary last night."

"I'm glad you liked it," said Nina. "If you're happy, so are we." That was their motto, of course, but it was something more this time. It was the scope of the project, and the challenge of it. The challenge of the persona, in particular.

Simone was quiet. "It was most extraordinary to me in particular," she said. "Where did you find the bird atop the tree? If I may ask."

"We commissioned it. I know a glass artist, she lives on the same lane as our studio," said Nina.

"I thought it must have been your doing, for it was no coincidence," said Simone.

"I want you to have it," said Nina. "It's a Christmas gift to you. I wanted to say thanks for giving us a true chance, not just dismissing us because we were the wrong window dressers."

Simone turned to look at her. "Thank you," she said. "I am very touched."

Nina smiled. "You're welcome," she said. She picked up her case and left Simone gazing at the pretend Christmas woodland, alone with her reflections on the past.

Vincent was waiting for her near the tree in Trafalgar Square, where tourists and festivities for the Christmas season reminded her instantly of her first night in the city, with the Plum Pudding Bus tour. Her heartbeat skipped once at the sight of him buying a cup of coffee from a vendor, and turning to scan the crowd, looking for her.

All she could think about was the party, and what they hadn't said to each other, and that she had no idea what to say. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She wasn't a coward, was she?

"Can I buy you a cup?" he asked her.

"Yeah, thanks," she said. He motioned for a second one, and handed it to her after paying. They exchanged smiles, then sipped the drinks as they watched a group of excited teens trotting ahead, towards the Christmas market. A couple of tourists walked by, making a video on one of their phones.

"I'm glad you called me," she said. "I felt badly that we didn't spend more time together last night. Seeing as ... I mean, since things are the way they are."

"You're leaving, you mean," he said. "I felt the same."

She nodded. "The ornament made me a little emotional," she confessed. "I didn't think you'd give me a present. It was so thoughtful, I was overwhelmed and didn't say anything. Barely thanked you, actually." She looked down at the pavement.

"Nina, listen," he said. "I know it's too much to ask, but I want to know if there's any chance you see a future between us, some reason to keep in touch. Maybe if you're coming back to England, we could try to build a relationship."

"Why would I be coming back for more than a couple of weeks?" she asked. "You're talking about a long-distance relationship, and those are really difficult."

"I thought maybe with your success, the future might look open to you," he said.

"To work in London?" she said.

"Not necessarily London, but anywhere," he said. "I don't know if I'll work here forever. Like I said, if Simone opens a branch in Manhattan, I could move there. People can get to know each other if they share experiences and spend time together over two countries."

"Yeah, but we don't know if we'll ever share one country, much less two," she said. "I ... I think it's an amazing idea, but I don't know if I have the kind of confidence in it that you do."

"You shouldn't doubt your talent," he said. "Look how impressed Simone was. That's a valuable asset to have, and all because you have an incredible talent for creative spaces."

It was an incredible idea, and it took Nina's breath away, but so did the consequences. Her business in Queens, her family, her clients — what about all of them? What if she didn't go home and carry on as planned? Would everything she worked for in the past fall apart?

"It would be so crazy, so foolish," she said, almost as if she was talking to herself. "Why would I succeed if I tried to work here? I'd be starting over when I can get up every day already accomplishing my dream, and I might not leave the bottom in a place like this, just cleaning up after creative people."

"I think you're great enough to do it," he said. "But I understand. Risk isn't worth it to everyone, I know. There are risks I haven't taken. I just wanted to be certain there wasn't a chance. It wouldn't just be a chance for you, which makes it selfish of me to think about it, since you told me how you felt before."

"I did," she said. But how I feel is way more complicated than that . She couldn't admit the truth, almost as if she was afraid of it. She was afraid of it for some reason, although that was totally out of character. Cautious, sure, but not afraid, because finding the strength to push on was just normal.

Something about this situation, about the man standing in front of her with that gentle look, made everything in her world seem to spin in the opposite direction.

They hugged, and Nina wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. Her head spun with crazy ideas, and her body was tempted to melt into this embrace and become one with the strength and the warmth of the person holding her.

Vincent's hand squeezed hers as they parted. "Let's walk around," he said. "This place is the most festive spot in London, so it's all we'll have of Christmas together before you go back to New York. I can give you that much, at least."

"I'd like that." They kept holding hands as they melded into the crowd of visitors who were photographing the huge central Christmas tree and Father Christmas waving nearby as little children surrounded him. On the air, the scent of chestnuts and spice mingled with greenery, and strains of Christmas music from a nearby carousel made the scene so much more carefree than Nina felt.

***

"S he gave us a bonus ?" said Bradley.

"That's what I said," Molly answered, closing the email. "We're actually getting a bonus for our work. Apparently Natalia doesn't hate us so completely that she can actually deny our work was exceptional."

"How's that for a Christmas miracle?" joked Bradley.

He was trying to fold some red Christmas paper around a box containing a gift for Ms. Fong — an Asian-style cat planter, made for holding one of those little herb plants grown in a moss cup. It reminded him a little of her cat, and he thought maybe she's like adding it to her shelf of growing herbs — think of him when watering it, maybe.

"The message said, and I quote, 'We were extremely gratified by your work for our Christmas gala, which garnered much praise from our guests in addition to exceeding our own expectations.' I wonder if Natalia struggled to actually sign off on that email — you know she read it at the very least if she didn't write it herself."

"That's crazy," said Bradley. "So we actually have a recommendation from Van Stewart's for services rendered?"

"I know. It's unbelievable, I can't wait for Nina to see it," said Molly. "Who knows what this means? We could land a gig in Manhattan after we get home. We could be commuting from Queens to the heart of the fashion district to stage elite boutiques, you know?"

"I could actually have names on my resume that people recognize," said Bradley. "This is epic."

"Totally," said Molly. "I'm calling home. I have to tell someone the news, this is too good to keep to myself." She had stopped packing up their decor supplies, busy phoning another number.

Bradley put a bow on top of his wrapped package, and added it to the stack he'd finished, containing two more — one of which was for Ted at the pub, a joint gift from him and Molly that she had insisted they buy. It was corny — a cooking apron with a darts board on it, one feathered shaft straight through the center — but Molly had claimed it was perfect.

He carried them in a shopping bag as he exited the studio's building. Outside, Ki selected a couple of aluminum cans which had missed the recycling bin.

"Hey," said Bradley. "Skipping school again?"

He shrugged. "It's the Christmas holiday," he said. "I'm supposed to be home."

"Right," said Bradley. "Well, here — Happy Christmas." He held out a package to Ki. "It's from all of us. Just something personal to say thanks for all your genius work, beyond your fees, I mean."

Ki took the bulky package — not one of Bradley's better wrapping jobs — looking at it with curiosity before opening it. Inside was a genuine MIT class textbook, which had cost a fortune despite being a secondhand edition, but Bradley thought it would be worth it to see the look on the boy's face. Ki's eyes lit up like the Christmas trees at the sight.

"For me?" He sounded disbelieving.

"Yeah, you. I thought you could read it and decide if MIT is the school for you," said Bradley. "But if you want to go, remember — you have to actually complete school. So don't be spending those hours rooting through recycling bins and garbage cans, okay?"

Ki snorted. "Whatever, yeah, mate," he said. But his fingers opened the cover, paging through diagrams of engineering formulas for stable constructions, the physics behind energy and motors applied to advanced propulsion. He looked impressed.

"See you around, kid."

"See you." Sitting in the doorway, Ki was already absorbed in its pages, a chapter on rocket fuel.