Christmas in New York Page 2

  Charlie cleared his throat. “Ya know, now’s not the best time. I … um …” He eased the door a little more closed. “I gotta work later and …”

  “Sure,” Elizabeth said. “Of course. We just showed up out of the blue. I’m sorry.”

  Charlie was closing down now and pulling away even more. Elizabeth knew she had to move quickly. “How about lunch tomorrow? Our treat.”

  Charlie looked ready to say no.

  “Please?”

  He frowned but then gave her a reluctant nod. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay, great,” Elizabeth said, hurrying to close the deal. “Lunch tomorrow. We’ll come back around one?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded but had trouble meeting her eyes.

  Simon held out his hand. “Until tomorrow.”

  Charlie looked at it, wiped his palm on his shirt front and shook hands. He nodded once more, curt and impatient for this to end, and then closed the door without looking at them again.

  ~~~

  Charlotte’s face told the story: confused and sad. And it broke Simon’s heart. This had been her Christmas gift, the only one she’d asked for. Whoever Charlie was now, he was not the same man they’d left behind those years ago. Simon had been worried that that might be the case. Even under the best of circumstances, and the Great Depression was far from that, life had a way of catching up with a man. He’d hoped Charlie would be different, but deep down he knew that was seldom the case.

  As they reached the bottom of the brownstone steps, Elizabeth leaned down and said something to Charlotte. Their daughter nodded and Elizabeth led Simon a few feet away.

  Elizabeth glanced back over her shoulder at Charlotte. “I hate seeing her like this. This wasn’t the Christmas I wanted for her.”

  Simon gazed over at Charlotte. “I know, but what can we do? We can’t change who he is.”

  Elizabeth nodded but then one of her sneaky smiles began to blossom on her face. “Or can we?”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “We have to try. We owe him that much, Simon.” She looked back at Charlotte who toed at a pile of crusty snow near the stairs. “And Charlotte. It’s the season for miracles, right? Never know what’s going to happen.”

  Simon shook his head. “I hate seeing her like this as much as you do, but—”

  “We can help him. I know we can.”

  His expression was one born of loving a woman with boundless hope, no matter the odds. “And how do you know that?”

  Her smile grew. “It’s what we do.”

  Chapter Two

  IT DIDN’T HURT TO ask around a little, Simon supposed, to try to find out what happened to Charlie. But he had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t end there. Not with Elizabeth on the case. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he was content to play along. Maybe Charlie’s woes were something they could help with. Elizabeth was right about one thing, they did owe him.

  The first logical step was to talk to people Charlie worked with. His bar, Blues in the Night, had been a godsend for them when they’d accidentally time traveled to New York. It was the first time in his life money had been an issue. It was an object lesson in humility. One he sorely needed, as it turned out. It was just one of the many things that trip had taught him, that had changed him. And without it, and without Charlie’s help, he wouldn’t have the life he was so very lucky to have now.

  They reached the block where Charlie’s bar used to be, but the heavy metal door was gone and there was a sign above the new door with a blue musical note in neon.

  “That’s new,” Elizabeth said.

  Of course, the bar was a speakeasy when they’d been there before, an underground club skirting the laws of Prohibition. That wasn’t necessary anymore.

  “No secret password required either, I suppose,” Simon said.

  “Too bad, that was fun.”

  Simon gave a soft chuckle and then shifted his focus to Charlotte. They’d stopped on Canal street to get a cannoli to cheer her up. And Elizabeth, of course.

  “You have a little cream, just here,” Simon said as he wiped a bit of errant filling from her cheek with his finger. Her big green eyes were still tinged with sadness not even a cannoli could fix. Simon smiled at her and placed the little dollop of cream squarely on the tip of her nose. “That’s better.”

  The giggle he won warmed his heart.

  “Why don’t you two finish those off and I’ll just go in and ask a few quick questions?”

  Elizabeth understood. As much as she wanted answers, a bar like Charlie’s was no place for a child.

  Simon pulled open the door and went inside. He was immediately hit with a strange mixture of déjà vu and complete dislocation. It was the same room, the same bar, physically, but everything that had made it Charlie’s place was gone. The pictures of Clara Bow and other movie stars were gone from behind the bar. The rickety old tables and chairs had been upgraded. A few booths lined the wall where he’d played the piano so many nights.

  Nothing stayed the same, he knew, but a part of him was disappointed. Regardless, he wasn’t here to sight-see; he was here for answers. Luckily, it was early enough in the day still that the bar was sparsely populated and the bartender on duty had little more to do than polish and re-polish the same glass.

  He walked over to the bar and caught the bartender’s attention.

  He was a middle-aged man, tall and lanky, bored but smiling at the sight of a customer. “What can I do for ya?”

  “I’m just looking for some information.”

  The smile faded quickly.

  “And scotch, I suppose,” Simon added quickly.

  The man’s smile returned. “One scotch coming up.”

  He poured the drink and placed the glass in front of Simon. “Four bits.”

  Simon nodded and slid the glass to the side as he leaned forward. “So, this is Charlie’s place, isn’t it?”

  The man frowned and shook his head in confusion. “Charlie?”

  “Charlie Blue, the owner?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, Charlie. Sure. Blue’s his last name. Like blues the music and then the name, ya know? It’s like a double-cassandra.”

  Simon hid his smile at the man’s mistake. “Yes. Right. Is he around?”

  “Who?”

  Simon kept his impatience in check. Barely. “Charlie.”

  “Oh, no. Ain’t seen him in, I don’t know. Four or five years, I guess.”

  “But doesn’t he own the bar?”

  The bartender flipped his bar towel onto his shoulder. “Naw, not for a long time. Got bought out, I heard. Must be nice, huh?”

  That wasn’t good. Charlie would never have sold this place unless he had to. “Yes,” Simon said distractedly. “You don’t happen to know where I might find him working now?”

  The bartender shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I heard somethin’ about him maybe workin’ over on 10th, Merritt’s, I think, but ya know, I don’t know for sure or nothin’.”

  “Of course. Thank you,” he said as he took out a dollar and laid it on the bar before heading for the door.

  “Hey!” the bartender called out after him. “You didn’t even touch your drink.”

  Simon reached the door. “Thanks for your time.”

  The bartender glanced around the bar and then downed the scotch in one go.

  The cannoli seemed to have done the trick, at least for now, Elizabeth thought as Charlotte licked the last bit of cream off the paper it was wrapped in.

  “Finished?”

  Charlotte nodded and licked her finger one more time.

  Elizabeth crumpled the paper and with no trash cans nearby tucked it into her purse.

  “So,” she asked as they waited for Simon to finish inside the bar, “how are you feeling?”

  Charlotte smiled. “Fine.”

  “Not planning on falling down again anytime soon, I hope?”

  Charlotte’s blush gave her away. Elizabeth had seen her “fall” ear
lier when they’d bought the chestnuts. Whatever had happened, Charlotte hadn’t really tripped.

  “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

  Charlotte chewed on her lip like she always did when she was thinking hard on a problem.

  Elizabeth didn’t want to push. So far, her Christmas had been a bit of a bust. If she wanted to keep a secret, that was okay, for now.

  “Okay,” Elizabeth said. “But when you do, I’m here, all right?”

  Charlotte nodded, relieved.

  Elizabeth leaned down and said conspiratorially, “And try not to pull that particular stunt again. Your father is on edge enough as it is. I don’t think his heart—”

  “What about my heart?” Simon said as he rejoined them on the sidewalk in front of the bar.

  Elizabeth stood and turned to her husband. “Just saying how big it is.”

  “I see,” he said with a smile, knowing that something had just passed between mother and daughter. “Well, it seems Charlie doesn’t own the bar anymore.”

  That wasn’t good, but Elizabeth didn’t say so. She needed to stay positive for Charlotte’s sake.

  “I did get a line on where he works. Maybe you two should go back to the hotel and I’ll go check it out. I won’t be long.”

  Their hotel wasn’t far. They’d found a nice suite at the Washington Square Hotel.

  “I don’t want to go back yet,” Charlotte said. “I want to help, too.”

  Elizabeth looked at Simon.

  He thought about it for a moment and then agreed. “All right. But stay close to your mother.”

  Charlotte nodded and he turned to hail a cab.

  ~~~

  The cab pulled over in front of drab three-story brick building. Emblazoned across the front in chipped white paint were the words, “Merritt Brothers.”

  Simon got out and paid the cab as Elizabeth helped Charlotte out.

  “Maybe you two should wait in the cab,” Simon said.

  It was a rougher part of town than even the Lower East Side but it was still daylight and they were hardly in any real danger.

  “We’ll be fine.”

  Simon handed the driver a bill and then another. “Wait for us.”

  “Sure thing, bub.”

  “Bub,” Charlotte echoed, winning a look from Simon.

  Elizabeth barely managed to swallow her laugh.

  Once they got a better view of the block it wasn’t hard to see where they were. Huge sides of beef hung from hooks across the street and trucks came and went. This was the meatpacking district.

  “Gives slaughter on 10th Avenue a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” she said.

  Simon nodded. “Let’s just find out what we can and move on, all right? You two wait here and I’ll—”

  “Or, you two wait here,” Elizabeth interrupted and without waiting for Simon marched toward the front doors of Merritt Brothers.

  “Elizabeth!”

  Just as she reached the front doors, they opened and a stream of men poured out. A shift change.

  “Well, hello, doll,” one said.

  A few more whistled.

  “Hello,” she said with a smile. “Maybe one of you can help me.”

  “I’d sure like to, lady,” a man with a big gap-toothed smile said as he took a step closer. Too close.

  One of his friends put a hand on his chest. “Take it easy, Morty. Go on home. Maybe you’ll catch your wife with the mailman again.”

  Morty frowned but backed off.

  “Don’t mind him, he’s just a mook.” He grinned and slapped Morty on the chest with his hat. “Go on.”

  Morty went on his way. The man turned back to Elizabeth and admired her for a moment, looking her up and down. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He put one arm up against the building and leaned toward her. “Now, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

  Charlotte waited with her father while he ground his teeth and watched her mother talk to the men. One of them leaned in close and her father grumbled something under his breath. He turned and looked down at her with one of his stern faces. He had a lot of them, but this was his “I’m really, really serious” face.

  “Do not move from this spot.”

  Charlotte nodded and he walked over to join her mother.

  Charlotte leaned against the wall where he’d positioned her and waited.

  “Hey,” a voice next to her said.

  She turned and realized it was the boy from earlier.

  Now that she could see him up close, he looked kind of nice. His hair was a little greasy under his cap, but he had kind eyes. Big brown ones like a deer. “Hey.”

  “You lost or somethin’?”

  She shook her head. “Are you?”

  He hitched up his pants. “I know this place like the back of my hand. And you ain’t from around here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know everybody around here and especially every pretty girl. There’s only two. Three if you count Deborah, but I don’t count her.”

  “Why? That’s not very nice.”

  He shrugged and leaned against the wall next to her. “She’s okay, I guess.”

  They stood together in silence for a moment.

  “Why’d you help me?” he asked finally.

  “I sort of got you caught in the first place. You shouldn’t steal, though.”

  He pushed himself off the wall. “You gonna rat me out?”

  “No. I …” She wasn’t sure what to say. Stealing was wrong. She knew that. But somehow, she felt like it was different for him. “I’m not a rat,” she said, finally.

  He nodded once and the matter was settled. He took his place leaning against the wall again.

  “So, you stayin’ around here someplace?”

  “Washington Square.”

  He nodded but didn’t say more. He was hard to get to know.

  “Do you live around here?” she asked.

  “I live in Hell.”

  She gasped. “You what?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll show you sometime if—” His eyes shifted from her to the front door of the building where her parents were just finishing talking to a man.

  Her father’s eyes landed on the boy like a hawk on a mouse.

  “I’ll see ya around,” the boy said and started to walk away.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Henry,” he said with a tip of his cap before he hurried off under her father’s watchful gaze.

  Her parents joined her.

  “Who was that?” her father asked.

  Charlotte hesitated. She didn’t like to keep things from her parents but for some reason she wanted Henry to be just hers for now.

  She shrugged and her father was about to ask again when her mother chimed in.

  “He looked nice,” she said and gave Charlotte a knowing look.

  Charlotte started to blush and turned away.

  Her father clearly wanted to ask her more but settled on clearing his throat instead. “Right. Well. Why don’t we go back to the hotel and freshen up a bit, hmm?” he said as he tugged on his gloves. “Then find somewhere for dinner?”

  “Did you find out what’s wrong with Charlie?”

  Her parents shared a look and her father shook his head. “Not yet. But we will, all right? Don’t you worry.”

  But she was worried. And she could tell her parents were, too.

  ~~~

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  Simon merely grinned. “Come on.”

  Elizabeth grimaced and carefully put one foot on the ice. It promptly slid out from under her and she would have fallen flat on her caboose if Simon hadn’t caught her.

  She could feel the laughter rumble through his chest.

  “All right, all right,” she said as he helped her find her footing. She grasped on to the railing around the ice rink.

  Charlotte skated in lazy c
ircles behind Simon as Elizabeth struggled to stay on her feet.

  “You can do it, Mom,” Charlotte said as she passed by them in her small loop.

  Going to Rockefeller Center sounded like a good idea. They could all use some cheering up and what could be more Christmasy than skating in the new rink that opened just last year under the shadow of the gorgeously decorated Christmas tree with the sounds of Bing Crosby serenading them? It sounded like the perfect cure for what ailed them. That was unless Elizabeth broke an ankle, or both, then all bets were off.

  “Okay, I got this.” Elizabeth had managed to stand upright for almost an entire minute; this little victory spurred her on to greater heights, like letting go. She did and didn’t fall.

  She wavered and Simon reached out for her, but she shooed him away. “I got it.”

  She took a small step forward and suddenly felt the world sliding out from beneath her. Her arms windmilled wildly. Simon came forward like he was born on ice and pulled her to him, keeping her from falling. Again.

  “I ain’t got it.”

  Simon chuckled again. “Just hold on to me, all right?”

  He put his arm around her waist and she did the same. He pushed off slowly, sending them gliding gently across the ice. She bent her knees and stuck her tush out, trying vainly to keep from falling again. A little boy skated past her, then turned around to skate backwards as he giggled at her.

  “Show off!” she called after him.

  Simon chuckled again. “Don’t let him distract you.”

  Charlotte was a natural. Of course, she’d been roller blading since she could stand and had been to not one but two skating parties for kids in her class. Simon had learned to skate on a frozen pond at his estate in London. Of course. And Elizabeth? The closest she’d come to ice growing up in Texas was in a cocktail glass.

  Simon was calm and relaxed as he helped her awkwardly navigate around the rink. It was romantic, despite her looking like she was permanently stuck in a half-squat. And it was Christmasy. Couples skated together, a father helped his daughter along, children whizzed by, their long red winter scarfs trailing along behind. The Christmas lights from the great tree sparkled in the cold December air and shimmered on the ice.