Chistmas In Manhattan Collection. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
Tate was scraping auburn curls back from her face to restrain with a scrunchie but she abandoned the task as she caught sight of Grace.
‘I hear you’ve had quite a day.’
Grace simply nodded.
‘Do you hate me—for persuading you to come back?’
She shook her head now. ‘It’s been full on,’ she said, ‘but you know what?’
‘What?’
Grace felt her mouth curving into a grin. ‘I loved it.’
It was true, she realised. The pace of the work had left no time for first day nerves. She had done her job well enough to earn praise from the chief and, best of all, the moment she’d been dreading—seeing Charles again—had somehow morphed into something that had nothing to do with heartbreak or embarrassment or even resentment. It almost felt like a reconnection with an old friend. With a part of her life that had been so full of promise because she’d had no idea of just how tough life could become.
‘Really?’ Helena let out a huff of relief. ‘Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.’ She was smiling now. ‘So it wasn’t weird, finding that someone you went to med school with is your boss now?’
Grace had never confessed the real reason it was going to be awkward seeing Charles Davenport again. She had never told anybody about that night, not even her best friend. And certainly not the man she had married. It had been a secret—a shameful one when it had become apparent that Charles had no desire to remember it.
But today it seemed that she had finally been able to move past something that had been a mere blip of time in a now distant past life.
‘Not really,’ she told Helena. ‘Not that we had time to chat. I did meet his little boys, though.’
‘The twins? Aren’t they cute? Such a tragic story.’ Helena lowered her voice. ‘Nina was the absolute love of Charles’s life and she died minutes after they were born. Amniotic embolism. He’ll never get over it...’
Shock made Grace speechless but Helena didn’t seem to notice. The hum of voices around them was increasing as more people came in and out of the locker room. Helena glanced up, clearly refocusing on what was around her. She pulled her hair back again and wound the elastic band around her short ponytail. ‘I’d better get in there. You can tell me all about it in the morning.’
The door of her locker shut with a metallic clang to reveal the figure arriving beside her to open another locker. Charles Davenport glanced sideways as Helena kept talking.
‘Have my bed tonight,’ she told Grace. ‘I’ll be home so late, a couple of hours on that awful couch won’t make any difference.’
And then she was gone. Grace immediately turned to look for her own locker because she didn’t want to catch Charles’s gaze and possibly reveal that she had just learned something very personal about his life. She turned back just as swiftly, however, as she heard him speak.
‘You’re sleeping on a couch?’
‘Only until I find my own place.’ Grace could see those new lines on his face in a different light now and it made something tighten in her chest. He’d suffered, hadn’t he?
She knew what that was like...
‘It’s a bit of a squash,’ she added hurriedly. ‘But Helena’s an old friend. Do you remember her from Harvard?’
Charles shook his head and Grace nodded a beat later. Why would he remember someone who was not only several years younger but, like her, had not been anywhere near the kind of elite social circles the Davenports belonged to? Her own close friendship with Helena had only come about because they’d lived in the same student accommodation block.
‘She was a few years behind us. We’ve kept in touch, though. It was Helena who persuaded me to apply for the job here.’
Charles took a warm coat from its hanger and draped it over his arm. ‘I’ll have to remember to thank her for that.’ He pulled a worn-looking leather satchel from his locker before pushing the door shut. He looked like a man in a hurry. ‘I’d better go and rescue my boys. Good luck with the apartment hunting.’
‘Thanks. I might need it. From what I’ve heard, it’s a bit of a mission to find something affordable within easy commuting of Central Manhattan.’
‘Hmm.’ Charles turned away, the sound no more than a sympathetic grunt. But then his head turned swiftly, his eyes narrowed, as if he’d just thought of something important. ‘Do you like dogs?’
The random question took Grace by surprise. She blinked at Charles.
‘Sorry?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s just a thought. Might come to nothing but...’ He was pulling a mobile phone from the pocket of his scrubs and then tapping on the screen. ‘Give me your phone number,’ he said. ‘Just in case...’
* * *
What had he been thinking?
Was he really intending to follow through with that crazy idea that had occurred to him when he’d heard that the newest member of his department was camping in another colleague’s apartment and sleeping on an apparently uncomfortable couch?
Why would he do that when his life had suddenly become even more complicated than it already was?
‘It’s not raining, Daddy.’ Zipped up inside his bright red puffer jacket, with a matching woolly hat covering his curls, Cameron tugged on his father’s hand. ‘Swing?’
Max’s tired little face lit up at the reminder and he nodded with enthusiasm. ‘I want a swing, too.’
‘But it’s pouring, guys.’ Charles had to smile down at his sons. ‘See? You’re just dry because you’re under my umbrella.’
A huge, black umbrella. Big enough for all of them to be sheltered as they walked beneath dripping branches of the massive trees lining this edge of Central Park, the pavement plastered with the evidence of the autumnal leaf fall. Past one of the more than twenty playgrounds for children that this amazing space boasted, currently empty of any nannies or parents trying to entertain their young people.
‘Aww...’
The weight of two tired small boys suddenly increased as their steps dragged.
‘And it’s too dark now, anyway,’ Charles pointed out. ‘We’ll go tomorrow. In the daytime. We can do that because it’s Sunday and there’s no nursery school. And I’m going to be at home to look after you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Maria’s got a sore back.’
‘Because she fell down the stairs?’
‘That’s right, buddy.’
‘It went dark,’ Cameron said.
‘I was scared,’ Max added. ‘Maria was crying...’
‘Horse was barking and barking.’
‘Was he?’
‘I told Max to sit on the stair,’ Cameron said proudly. ‘And Mr Jack came to help.’
Jack was the elderly concierge for their apartment block and he’d been there for many years before Charles had bought the penthouse floor. He was almost part of the family now.
And probably more willing to help than his real family would be if he told them about the latest complication in his home life.
No, that wasn’t fair. His siblings would do whatever they could but they were all so busy with their own lives and careers. Elijah would have to step up to take his place as Chief of Emergency in the next few days. His sister Penelope was on a much-needed break, although she was probably on some adrenaline-filled adventure that involved climbing a mountain or extreme skiing. The youngest Davenport,