Christmas Promises at the Garland Street Markets: A feel good Christmas romance (New York Ever After, Book 5) Read online

  ‘I couldn’t let my favourite fiancée hit the Manhattan streets without a bit of support.’ He took her in his arms and kissed her, not in the least bit bothered by the onlooking customers.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Holly had snapped them, of course, her sharp blue eyes missing nothing.

  ‘Holly, what are you like?’ Cleo called after their friend, although she could only see the back of her auburn hair as she moved on to capture something else at the Garland Street markets. ‘Where are Emily and Tabitha?’ she asked Dylan.

  ‘Your gramps and Elaine have come to our place to be childminders for a few hours. I know you worry your gramps is getting too old, but they’ll be fine, and they said it’s like an early Christmas present to have the grandkids.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’ll see how they feel about it when you get home. Tabitha has taken to using the word “no” at the top of her voice and stamping her foot whenever she’s asked anything. Little terror.’

  ‘She’s cute when she does it though.’

  She furrowed her brow. ‘Don’t let her know you think that or she’ll wrap you around her little finger.’ Just like older sister Ruby who was becoming more and more like Prue, her mum. Dylan’s ex-wife had always liked to get her own way. Cleo wondered how much of the current unrest Dylan picked up on, whether he could see what she could – how thick as thieves Ruby and Prue were, especially since Cleo and Dylan had started to discuss the wedding more seriously. Ruby had been so excited when they got engaged but it was as though the last calendar year had given her time to rethink and, now, Cleo wasn’t sure Ruby wanted the union to happen at all. In fact, she was convinced Prue must be feeding all kinds of thoughts into Ruby’s head.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Dylan. ‘Jacob is being the doting big brother and puts Tabitha in her place.’

  Jacob, unlike Ruby, seemed unphased that his dad was going to marry someone who wasn’t his mum. And he was young enough at seven – almost eight as he liked to remind them – to still want his cuddles, which made Cleo feel as though this would all work out in the end.

  ‘You know how you could really support me?’ In Dylan’s arms, she looked up at the man she’d trusted with her past and her future.

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Grab me a hot chocolate from somewhere, it’s freezing in here.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ He left her chatting with a customer trying to decide between a dusk-pink scarf or the same pattern in cream.

  As soon as he returned Cleo welcomed the hot chocolate Dylan had sourced, the steam swirling from the tiny spout on the lid and instantly warming her. Hands clutched around the vessel, she sipped the liquid gingerly. ‘I really needed this, thank you.’

  Dylan took charge of the hot chocolate when another customer plucked the fawn scarf for her husband’s Christmas gift this year. ‘It’s busy, are you happy?’ he asked as he handed Cleo back her drink.

  ‘I had no idea what it would be like. I wondered whether it would be quiet because it’s new, but a few customers have told me flyers have been circulating around Manhattan for weeks.’

  ‘And how is it being back in the city?’ He grinned. ‘Come on, I know you. You’ve always missed the buzz.’

  ‘I couldn’t live here again, I love where I am now. But it is nice to be in amongst the busyness again,’ she admitted – although she refrained from saying how much she needed to have time away from Ruby at the moment.

  ‘When does Amelia arrive?’

  ‘She should’ve landed by now; I’m hoping she’ll start in the next couple of days. I’ve already come up with a bit of a rota for me, Kaisha, Amelia and a couple of other helpers I found via Kaisha.’ Her assistant had once been at the highly regarded New York University and had many friends dotted about, all as charming as Cleo’s colourful assistant herself and who all, thankfully, worked just as hard as Kaisha, glad to earn extra cash in the holiday season.

  ‘It’s pretty full on.’

  When he frowned she said simply, ‘Bit late now, I’m signed up until Christmas Eve.’ She sold a pair of cream gloves to a woman who wanted to take off the tag and wear them right away. When the woman moved on Cleo put a hand to Dylan’s cheek. ‘I’ll cope, don’t you worry about me.’ It was harder being here though. Not only did she have to travel into Manhattan, she also couldn’t duck over to her store if things fell quiet or to help out when she was needed. She filled him in on numbers sold.

  ‘Now that’s impressive, and on day one.’

  ‘It’ll help fund our wedding.’ It was nice to be able to talk about the wedding without little ears picking up on it and directing attention elsewhere. When they’d begun to talk about venues last week Ruby had stubbed her toe on the bottom of the stairs and wailed until Dylan went running; when Cleo mentioned ring designs to Dylan a couple of nights ago Ruby had mysteriously come into their bedroom with a tummy ache, tucking herself in bed between the both of them.

  ‘If it ever happens,’ he teased. ‘I’m doing my best to make an honest woman of you, Cleo.’

  ‘I promise it’ll happen.’ Maybe he’d see for himself what Ruby was doing and they could find a way to deal with it together.

  ‘You need a date, something to head towards. If we don’t set a date then we’ll put it behind everything else we’ve got going on.’

  ‘Ruby is fussing that I’ll make her wear a horrible colour.’ That was another thing. If they ever did enter into a discussion, Ruby did her best to be as unamenable as possible.

  ‘She’s ten, she’s starting to assert herself, that’s all.’

  ‘I get the feeling Prue has been causing trouble.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Ruby and I got along famously for a long time but, lately, she seems against the wedding. That’s why I’ve been stalling,’ she admitted sheepishly.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not reading too much into it?’

  She reminded him about the tummy-ache incident and sharing their bed, then about the mysterious toe stubbing, where there was no blood, no bruise, and she was running around the house shortly afterwards as though nothing had happened at all. ‘She also seems to criticise me in whatever way she can.’

  ‘Ruby? No way, she adores you.’

  ‘Dylan, I love you, but you need to open your eyes.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her.’

  ‘Or perhaps we should wait for it to settle down.’

  ‘What else has she said?’ He saw right through her obvious hesitation. ‘You may as well tell me or I’ll be blinkered forever more.’

  ‘Yesterday she made a remark about my hair needing a wash. The day before she moaned about the banana cranberry muffins I made for them to take to school.’

  ‘She loves those.’

  ‘Not anymore. Apparently she hates cranberries – she picked every last one of them out while I was standing there.’

  He reached out and touched his fingers to her cheek. ‘She’ll come around.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘And in the meantime, try not to worry. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.’

  Should she mention seeing a little smirk from Ruby when Dylan and Cleo had bickered about her taking on the extra workload of a market stall? And it wouldn’t be the first time that look of triumph had passed over Ruby’s face either. It had reminded Cleo of Prue when she’d come to the Little Knitting Box in the West Village, her newly appointed job giving her the task of gleefully announcing that the extension to the lease for the rental premises hadn’t been granted as Cleo had believed and that she would have to vacate sooner than expected.

  Cleo decided she’d said enough for now and instead told Dylan about his son, who still loved his cuddles from Cleo. ‘Jacob can’t wait to put on a little suit and be the page boy and ring bearer.’

  ‘He tried a suit jacket of mine the other day and it was like looking at one of the seven dwarfs – sleeves hanging down to the floor, the rest of the jacket to his ankles.�
� Dylan’s smile was back, the crease of worry gone from his forehead for now. ‘And don’t think Tabitha and Emily won’t want to be involved.’

  ‘Tabitha is only interested in wearing fairy dresses, although that could work, but Emily has a very limited eight-word vocabulary so far and she won’t even realise what’s going on.’

  ‘She will at the rate we’re going – she’ll be an adult.’

  ‘Very funny.’ What she didn’t want to do was have a wedding where one of Dylan’s children was miserable in all of the photos but more than that, she didn’t want to be the object of Ruby’s resentment.

  ‘We’ll have to include Emily,’ Dylan went on, not fully realising how complicated this already was. ‘Otherwise in years to come, when she looks back at the photos, we’ll be facing the consequences.’

  Cleo’s original arrival in New York was as a twenty-nine-year-old divorcee starting over following a disastrous marriage and, back then, she’d never once thought she’d have all this: a man she was as in love with as the day they began going steady; a blended family with four kids she adored despite any angst they brought her; and a business she loved with a passion that bordered on the unhealthy when she tried to branch out with things like Christmas markets in Manhattan as if she didn’t already have far too much to do. But perhaps she’d simply got avoidance tactics down to a tee.

  ‘What do you think to a winter wedding?’ She floated the idea to Dylan while handing change to a customer who had, after much debate, gone with the navy long cashmere sweater instead of the fawn. Perhaps if they made firmer plans then Ruby would have some time to get used to the idea and she’d work through her grievances, whatever they might be.

  ‘I think even by your standards you’d be pushing it to fit it in,’ Dylan replied.

  ‘Not this year, even I’m not that insane. I was thinking next year.’

  ‘I didn’t want to wait that long. Why not early spring?’

  ‘Ruby needs time, Dylan, and this will give her that. And besides, my dad and Teresa have already booked to come over next Christmas.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘I only got the text late last night and you were asleep when I left this morning. They booked yesterday as soon as the new fares were released.’ Once upon a time Cleo hadn’t got along with her stepmother Teresa, but now she appreciated how happy she made her dad and they’d gradually become friends who spoke on the phone regularly.

  ‘I guess it would make sense for the wedding to wait until then if they’re already coming.’

  ‘Exactly. And do you realise, it’s supposed to be the girl pressuring the boy to hurry up and get married, not this way around?’

  ‘Since when have we ever done anything conventional?’

  ‘Good point.’ She pulled the lapels of his coat so he came towards her and she kissed him decisively. ‘Next winter it is.’

  ‘We need to lock in a date, book a venue.’

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘You mean you don’t spend every waking moment planning where we’ll get married?’ He put a hand against his strong chest beneath his coat. ‘I’m shocked, offended.’

  ‘Get away with you,’ she grinned. ‘Can we keep it to ourselves for now, tell the kids once we fix the date?’

  ‘I’ll do anything to get you down that aisle.’

  ‘Great, and I’ll add Wedding to my never-ending to-do list.’

  ‘As long as it’s ahead of markets or knitting, that’s fine.’

  Cleo wanted to find a venue, set the date, and then she could deal with Ruby and the emotions that seemed to have gone on spin cycle inside the ten-year-old, probably with a big push of the button from Prue.

  Rushed off her feet for the rest of the day, Cleo managed to eat her sandwich between taking payments, putting out more stock from the boxed-up supplies she’d brought with her today in Mitch’s truck and answering questions about the sizing of the women’s cashmere and merino socks, and by the time the moon came out from its hiding place high above the cold Manhattan streets she’d had a text from her friend Amelia to say she was here, in New York City, and couldn’t wait to meet up.

  And Amelia was a pro when it came to managing kids. Cleo had always been fiercely independent but even she wouldn’t mind admitting that welcoming Amelia was going to be a bit like greeting a fairy godmother who, with one wave of her wand, could eradicate any misgivings Cleo was having right now. Amelia was used to dealing with problem kids and all Cleo hoped was that she could offer some advice when it came to Ruby, who had told her the other day that if she kept frowning like that the wind would blow through town and her face would stay that way forever. Cleo had been left in no doubt the phrase came right from Prue along with the attitude, and it was time to sort things out.

  Only then would she be happy to get married.

  Chapter Two

  Amelia

  ‘It’s positively tropical,’ Amelia laughed once the flight attendant had made the announcement to passengers that local time here at JFK airport, New York, was three o’clock in the afternoon and the temperature was a shivering two degrees.

  Her attempt to inject humour was lost and she got nothing more than a grunt from her nephew, Kyle, whose gaze had been fixed either on his phone or out of the window for the last eight hours, unless he heard the offer of food, in which case he was straight on it.

  ‘Well, I’m glad I’ve got my scarf and coat,’ she smiled, nerves making her more vocal as usual. Her ex-boyfriend Paul had always told her she talked too much when she was nervous, as though she processed her thoughts out loud rather than in her head. ‘I can’t believe we’re here, are you excited?’ She watched Kyle, slumped in his seat as the plane taxied to the gate. It would soon be time to disembark into a city she’d only ever dreamed of or seen in films and she wasn’t going to let her spirits be dampened by a sulky seventeen-year-old at her side. At least Cleo had replied to her text to say they’d arrived with enthusiasm, and all of a sudden she was glad that on the other side of the world she’d have a good friend to talk to. She suspected she’d need one with Kyle in tow.

  ‘Yeah, it’s gonna be a blast,’ he muttered, which was at least something. And it was the longest sentence he’d said to her since his mum, Connie, had left her house in London to set off back to Cornwall. Amelia had tried not to resent the fact that Connie was socialising and about to have freedom when she herself was taking Kyle away to try to make the kid see sense, realise he couldn’t throw his life away by drifting along now he’d left school with no job and absolutely no direction. He’d been getting in trouble too and Connie was at the end of her tether. It would’ve been easy for Amelia to dismiss Kyle as not being her problem, but she’d never been that sort of auntie. Ever since Kyle was a baby they’d been close and she cared what happened to him, so regardless of how frustrating it was to be relied on yet again, she only hoped these four weeks away could do some good. She’d planned on having some time with Kyle anyway, seeing as she suddenly had leave from her job, and when Cleo suggested she have a holiday and come here to New York she thought Kyle tagging along could be a positive move.

  She hoped she didn’t end up regretting her generosity.

  ‘It’s just over three weeks until Christmas,’ she chimed, perhaps a little too eagerly. ‘The city will be festive, we might even get snow.’

  ‘I hope not. Can’t stand the stuff. Don’t get hardly any in Cornwall, it’s about the only good thing about living there.’

  ‘Come on, Kyle, give me something. A little smile, a bit of enthusiasm.’ Nothing. ‘Snow will make New York really Christmassy.’

  ‘With snow you get slush, ugly grey slush. Cars stop moving, everyone is sick and snivelling from the cold.’

  ‘It can also be very beautiful,’ she batted back as she ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair which still smelt of the lavender shampoo she’d used that morning. She didn’t feel quite as hideous as she often felt after travel, mainly because she’d escaped to use the b
athroom right before the beep and the light came on above where they were sitting to ensure they and other passengers remained in their seats ready for landing. She’d brushed her teeth to freshen up, added a thin coat of mascara to open up her tired green eyes and put on a slick of red lipstick so she could feel like herself, even if only for a moment. At least it had gone some way to making her feel like the Amelia who was in control rather than the Amelia who wondered what on earth she was doing bringing a surly teen on holiday with her.

  ‘I blame your dreamy vision of snow, which causes chaos and sucks, on all those soppy movies you watch,’ said Kyle. ‘Mum told me,’ he shrugged by way of explanation. ‘She joked you’d be making me watch them every night.’

  Guilty. She did like snuggling up in front of a good Hallmark movie with a guaranteed happy ever after – and more often than not it involved snow, which never caused the couple any problems other than to inject a bit of magic for them. Snow in those movies never made the characters shiver, or ruined their hair or make-up; they never fell over and hurt themselves. Life for those characters never presented much of a problem that couldn’t be solved by a kiss and a cuddle, but real life came with a huge amount of crap, the cuts and bruises and scrapes that everyone had to go through, including Kyle.

  Amelia gathered up her things from the seat pocket in front – bottle of water, packet of tissues, her book she hadn’t turned a page of, far too hooked by the entertainment system and the list of movies. She wondered briefly what her colleagues were doing right now, how the kids she’d been involved with were doing. She had a busy job in London as a youth worker for the council, a job she’d scored because of her excellent behaviour-management skills and affinity with young people from different backgrounds who needed structured support to stay on the right path. What the job description hadn’t specified was getting too emotionally involved. On top of the job stress, Amelia had been trying to sort out her flat near Brixton so it would feel like home after she’d rented it out to move in with Paul. At the time she’d tried to persuade him it would be much nicer to live in the grittier and lively Brixton that she’d grown to love than in leafy Forest Hill, where he had a gated detached house with access to a tennis court, but he’d been more than prepared to share his home with her and even gave her free rein with the decor when she moved in.