Christmas at Tiffany's Page 3

  “I’ll bet the store owners shut down early rather than waiting it out. They’re open at six o’clock every morning.” She hiked her purse strap against her shoulder and fingered back her hair in an absent, automatic manner.

  “You know this because…?”

  “Because I’m addicted to their sausage-and-waffle breakfast sandwiches. When I get to work early, I treat myself. The owners, the Yong’s, know me pretty well.”

  Her easy spirit warmed away the chill of a marble lobby that was half office building utilitarian and half an effective effort to create natural light and green space. Live ferns and tall trees edged a window line that soared high and wide. Tiffany kept her focus straight ahead as they crossed the threshold of the restaurant, which gave Mitch time to study her unaware. Lovely, he thought—unassuming and sweet. That warming sensation slid even deeper.

  “Once the rush is over, where are you headed?”

  “To Brooklyn. And you?”

  They settled on stools at a high-top table. Handing one of the two menus to Tiffany, Mitch opened his and pored over meal selections. “When I took on the interim management position, the company set me up at condo in Long Island. A corporate rental.”

  “Nice.”

  Her eyes went wide. The wistful tone spoke volumes. Mitch considered her—and admired her—all over again. Here sat a woman in her mid-twenties, building her career and following through on her passion via hard work on the nine-to-five front along with what had to be an equally demanding level of school work that would lead to a Masters. She wasn’t a struggling fresh-out-of-college type, but she continued to work hard to earn every inch forward and most likely those efforts didn’t include much in the way of extravagances, or unplanned expenses. She was impressive. Considering some of the self-centric, entitled people who populated the landscape of his life in New York and Los Angeles, Tiffany’s personality breathed through his mind like fresh air—even if it came to him wrapped by a dense, sparkling snowfall.

  Their seats overlooked a portion of 54th Street and Madison Avenue that was blanketed by untouched snow drifts. They placed an order for sodas and an entrée of spaghetti and meatballs. Once the wait for the food began, Tiffany gazed out the window, lost within the view outside. “It’s going to be so pretty in the morning before the city comes alive.” Her lips curved; her eyes went dreamy once more. “The storm will have passed and I imagine the sky will be a clear, dark blue just full of sunshine. Sure, it won’t last…sure, everyone will return to their routines…but for that brief, undisturbed bit of time, the snow will still be white, and the trees and buildings will sparkle.”

  Never once did she look his way. Rather, she seemed to dive headlong into the visual she described. Tiffany watched plows and cabs flash by; same as he, she tracked wool-shrouded people bustling past, pushing for home. Mitch didn’t see much more than annoying, oversized vehicles of yellow, lights casting strobes against the cold of a descending winter night. He saw folks buffeted by the inconvenience of inclement weather. Tiffany saw magic.

  Hoping he wouldn’t break some kind of rich spell, Mitch let go of a quiet breath he was holding. Seconds later, their waitress arrived with beverages which provided a cooling-off period he desperately needed. Tiffany sipped, sighed, and he was pulled toward her all over again.

  “Tell me what inspired your love of animals.”

  Something immediately shaded her eyes—something dark that she dismissed with a blink and the power of her smile. “If you ask me, they’re tough not to love. They’re innocent. And, just like people, they know only good things unless the world shows them otherwise. Put them into a situation where they can aid in a person’s healing, and I find it takes their beauty to a whole new level. I’m not naïve. I know and understand the pitfalls of psychological recovery and rehabilitation. That doesn’t stop me, though. I keep on hoping.”

  “It sounds to me like you’ve been there.”

  She sipped her drink, didn’t meet his eyes. The reaction spurred his curiosity.

  “Not as intensely as some of the people I’ve come across since I’ve started to study the field of counseling, but I’ve had strong connections to animals during the course of my life. I’ve always had pets. My current companions are Audrey and Oscar, two long-haired, gold and white tabby cats. They’re brother and sister.”

  Wearing a smile, she removed her suit coat and hung it on the back of her chair. The subtle diversion and topic shift didn’t push him into submission. Rather, he fell into a deliberate but gentle silence meant to encourage more.

  A moment or two later, Tiffany continued. “They make me feel less alone. They’re uncomplicated, and unconditional. I can just hold them, and cry, or laugh, or even be still. They simply tuck in and offer companionship. They let me be who and what I am and they don’t judge or push or pressure when I’m fragile. They just…are. I suppose that’s what’s motivated me to want to deliver that kind of healing to others as they go through counseling. No matter what the trauma, kindness and bonding can beget kindness and bonding.”

  The words reached deep, but Mitch still sensed there was more to her story. Picturing Tiffany inhabiting a time and place where the means of such comfort proved necessary unsettled him. “I’m sorry.”

  She unfolded a linen napkin across her lap then met his gaze, appearing genuinely surprised. “For what?”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being in pain.”

  “Pain is part of life. Making it to the other side is the victory, right?”

  “Absolutely.” The display of straightforward strength earned further measures of his respect.

  She leaned against the table, a coaxing smile worn at full power. “Enough about me, it’s your turn. Tell me about your life in LA.” Just like that, in slipped sparkly and sassy.

  Mitch followed her lead. “Well, for starters it’s warm.” By design, his flat, exaggerated tone stirred her laughter.

  “And?”

  “And, it’s home.” From there, he considered his answer for a moment. He refused to short change the interest he could see in her eyes. When she tilted her head, the swing of a pair of long silver earrings caught his attention and held it fast. “The west coast is where I was born and raised, so this assignment has provided quite a culture shock.” A thin layer of disappointment crossed her features which hastened him to explain. “Don’t misunderstand—I’ve enjoyed the learning curve and the opportunity to move forward with the company. New York City is OK, but it’s never felt like home.”

  “If I didn’t already know your history, I’d peg you as a native. You fit into the world of Manhattan as though you were born here.”

  The comment both flattered and disarmed. “Well, what’s the old cliché? Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Oh, I agree completely.”

  “How so?” Couldn’t be helped. When she laid out the nugget; he snapped it up.

  “Take work for example—”

  Their server arrived with entrees artfully arranged upon deep, oval plates of translucent red. Spicy steam lifted from a bed of lush red sauce that cascaded over penne pasta topped by bite-sized meatballs and sprinkled with basil and a generous, melted dose of grated parmesan. A basket of hot-from-the-oven garlic bread topped the meal to perfection; Mitch wasted no time digging in.

  Tiffany, he noticed, speared, chewed then sighed with pleasure. “This is delicious.” She lifted the napkin from her lap and dabbed her mouth. “Counseling is my passion, but the nine-to-five job plays to my skill set and pays the bills.” She forked another helping, ate then continued. “Some people I work with might mistake a quiet demeanor as a lack of ambition or drive. Perhaps they think I don’t care, or that I don’t bring expected levels of intensity to what I do. That’s totally wrong, and it hurts me sometimes. I care very much—personally and professionally—even if I possess an understated method of operation.”

  Mitch thought of Eric and frowned. Tiffany’s immediate supervisor was the obvious, but un
spoken, case in point. From what Mitch had gathered during brief instances of watching Tiffany at work, she seemed both competent and well regarded. No issues had arisen before today’s escapade, so she’d drifted in and out of his purview wearing the monikers of reclusive and shy.

  “I like to blend in,” she continued. “I like to do my job well without making any waves, and leave when the day is done so I can go home and study in peace. There are times when life overwhelms me—it’s a juggling act for now—but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I can see the graduation finish line coming toward me this spring, and the things I’ll be able to do once I’ve earned my degree are more than enough motivation to keep me moving forward. Kind of like you being away from California, right? The learning curve and forward momentum?”

  Real and easy, her smile reached through the sudden cloud that surrounded his head…his heart…pulling him toward something thoroughly unexpected, thoroughly compelling.

  “Exactly.”

  3

  Flickers of awareness accompanied Tiffany to the transit station at 53rd and 5th. Climbing aboard an E train still heavily stocked with people heading out of the city, she sank onto an empty seat and tuned out the world, pondering the sudden and rushing impact of what had transpired over the last several hours. Mitch pushed to the forefront of her mind and remained firmly entrenched. She couldn’t make sense of her emotions, nor could she dismiss them. At the 42nd and Times Square stop, she hopped on the train that would lead her home to Brooklyn.

  For forty minutes, a garbled, electronic voice announced stops; an unending carnival of people provided white noise. First, there was the stylish business woman who sat next to her for a few stops—then came a bundled up family of tourists with street maps in hand and unfolded for study. They looked disappointed and stressed; Tiffany could only imagine how the weather had affected their plans. Mom jiggled a stroller complete with zippered canopy and a sleeping baby tucked inside. Meanwhile, dad shuffled a pair of back packs and kept tabs on the older brother and sister who dodged around their legs.

  From there, Tiffany embraced invisibility, content to savor the diverse view while Mitch moved in and out of her mind as powerfully as the sea of people who moved in and out of her commuter-land universe. She could admit she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of mingling with the upper echelon of InfoTraxion—no matter how attractively packaged. Still, Mitch’s appeal won out against her typical yen to stay removed.

  Dinner had been divine. No doubt, she could spend all the time she wanted conjecturing about CEO Charming. But rather than indulge that impulse, Tiffany pushed her emotions to the background, focusing instead on a steady course at work and at school.

  She exited the transit station, taking the dank, slush moistened stairs at a decent clip. When she emerged at street level, the snow and ice proved treacherous, forcing her to focus on remaining afoot. Snow came down at near white-out levels. Thick, fat flakes pelted her cheeks, neck and lashes. Battling the wind and swirling chill, she hustled the few remaining blocks home.

  Tiffany tromped up the narrow stairs leading to the entrance of her apartment, grabbed the day’s mail from her box in the lobby and then pushed through the doorway of her unit. Already her mind raced ahead, sculpting the paper she needed to complete before the end of the week. The lingering aroma of cinnamon and apple greeted her, an undercurrent of the soy candles she enjoyed having lit when she was home; the blast of heat inside felt wonderful and soothing. She kicked snow from the soles of her ankle boots and dropped her purse and keys on a table in the landing. Leaning against the closed door, she sighed with delight as warmth enveloped her soul and wrapped her in arms of welcome. She couldn’t wait to put on her sweats, curl up in bed and spend a few hours writing and studying.

  The early-century brownstone she called home was a one bedroom that featured a wide open great room. She had chosen to give tan leather furniture some pops of color and life by adding a number of throw pillows to the mix in shades of green, red, yellow and orange. Patterned canvases lent texture to the space. Her favorite part, though, was a wide bay window that framed her great room and fronted the street below. Graceful wooden arches framed thick panes of glass that allowed sunlight to flood the space during the day. At night, once she drew the blackouts and sheers, she could tuck into a sense of coziness she treasured.

  Shortly after brewing a mug of orange and mint tea, Tiffany’s phone chimed and Melody’s name came to life on screen. Smile spreading, she carried her beverage to the great room and engaged the call. “Do you want to build a snowman?”

  The sing-song movie quote was answered by Melody’s laughter. “How far under are you buried?”

  “So far, snowmageddon has left about six inches on the ground. There might be eight by the time it’s finished. No big deal, really.”

  “You’re such a toughie. Go, you.”

  “I know, right?” Tiffany chuckled while she launched her computer and pulled a dark blue throw from its spot along the back of her couch. Stretching out, nesting her legs, she propped against the arm of the furniture and opened her paper on the quantification of animal therapy techniques. Oscar and Audrey jumped into position in perfect unison, parking into place across her ankles. Dual, vibrating purrs were a perfect antidote to stress.

  “I heard your lap top chime to life, so I won’t keep you, but two things. First of all, how did things go at work after we talked? Is everything OK?”

  “Better than OK.”

  Tiffany spelled out the meeting results and dinner, scratching her feline friends behind the ears. Melody, being Melody, latched straight on to the dinner aspect of her day rather than her victory for Pets Finding Home and an equally important victory over Eric’s troublesome behavior.

  “A shared dinner and a shared volunteer event coming up? Plus there’s a Christmas party in the mix, right? Sounds to me like you’re going to need a chaperone. Or, at the very least, an objective person to evaluate this developing situation.”

  “You’re impossible. There’s no developing situation. I’m sure he has a perfectly fantastic woman waiting for his return to California.” The idea caused her to pause and think for a moment. Green-eyed heat, she discovered, wasn’t altogether comfortable…neither was the wistfulness that followed.

  Melody plowed ahead. “I did some checking and schedule finessing. I’m clear this weekend if you were serious about a Christmas shopping spree. I can arrive Thursday night and stay through Monday.”

  “That’d be perfect. Want to be my plus-one for the Christmas party on Saturday? It’s at the Rainbow Room; we can mingle, eat and leave early.”

  “Tif, you’re the original party animal.”

  Tiffany pursed her lips, staring blankly at the far wall. Actually the idea of watching Mitch slide through a party, dressed up and in full-on social mode, had her tempted to join the celebratory set for a bit longer than a dine and dash. Would he bring a date…?

  “I’ll need to buy a dress.” A promising image bloomed of drifting through the Rainbow Room in a stunning cocktail dress, perhaps sipping from a glass of champagne. She imagined herself stylish and chic, capturing Mitch’s focus—

  “Let’s do it. I’m in.”

  Melody’s voice jarred Tiffany and returned her to the present. “Awesome. I’ve got to go for now. If I don’t get this paper written, I’m not going to have a merry Christmas or a happy new year.”

  “What’s the topic this time?”

  “Oh, it’s a spine-tingler. The effects of adjunctive animal therapy when used in tandem with primary counseling treatments for patients in crisis. Want to critique it?”

  “Gee…thanks…that’s nice of you and all, but I think I’ll wait for the movie.”

  “I figured. Hugs to everyone and talk to you soon.”

  After signing off, Tiffany spent the next few hours focused on quantifying the benefits of animal therapy in the overall counseling cycle of patients in crisis. The abstract was animal therapy worki
ng to reduce the apprehension of counseling, thereby becoming an important tool by which to comfort and encourage troubled individuals toward openness and revelation.

  Psychoanalytic to behavioral studies have shown that Animal Assisted Therapy, or AAT can create pathways to…

  Tiffany stopped tapping keys, overtaken by an enormous yawn on her fourth read-through. The words on her computer screen blurred, and her eyes drifted closed. Her head lolled. The textbook propped against her thigh bounced to the floor as she shifted for comfort.

  Mitch’s image came to life, then his voice—satin smooth and deep: Sounds to me like you’ve been there...

  Efforts at continued progress on her paper morphed into sleep, a sleep full of memory dust that drifted into a shimmering landscape, propelling Tiffany into the world of her much younger self.

  And her grandmother.

  Tiffany was walking home with a half dozen or so middle-school aged friends all of whom attended PS 8 in Brooklyn Heights. Free from school at the end of the day, the scent of early spring filled her senses, ripe with floral sweetness, the spice of fresh-trimmed grass and warm sunlight. Charging through the door she was greeted promptly by Duke, her family pet, a Doberman pinscher.

  “Hey, Duke!” Tiffany squatted to give him a proper greeting. That meant a series of ear scratches, some playful pets and a big neck hug. The dog hopped and licked, then bounded immediately for the living room at the rear of their home. To grandma.

  Duke belonged to Tiffany’s Nana Jayne, who had moved in with the family two years ago after being diagnosed with a rapidly deteriorating case of Alzheimer’s. She couldn’t live on her own any longer, and Nana Jayne’s cognitive abilities diminished by the day, but Duke’s presence always soothed her. Duke was a devoted and loyal member of the family. Beyond that, he was her grandma’s buddy, companion, and they shared a mutual, loving trust.