Alix had never been happier to be wrong about something in her life.
Behind her hung the dress she’d bought that afternoon in a half-hour break between meetings. It was silver, high at the neck, fitted from the waist down. Not black. Not businesslike. But she had to admit that she loved it. It was even a little festive—and if you couldn’t sparkle in Manhattan in December, then when could you?
Sure that Christy would approve, she slid on the dress.
On impulse, she snapped a selfie and sent it to Christy with a message.
Followed your advice. New dress. I’m going to look like something that fell off a Christmas tree.
She picked up her purse, took one last glance at herself and headed out of the room.
She didn’t care much about the dinner, or the ceremony, but she was looking forward to seeing other members of her team. She never forgot that this was a team effort, and she worked with good people.
Lonely? No way.
She was sliding into the car that had been booked for her when she realized Christy hadn’t replied. But with the five-hour time difference that probably wasn’t surprising. Her friend was probably already deeply asleep.
Remembering their conversation the day before, she squashed down a flicker of concern. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been wrong, but if that was the case then Christy would have told her. They had no secrets.
She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the moment. Manhattan during the day was fun, interesting and exciting, but at night it was spectacular.
She didn’t quite understand why, but every time she landed in this city she felt as if she’d made it. She’d survived her ice-cold, refrigerated childhood and built a life for herself. No one knew what lay behind her. No one cared.
Her phone beeped and she checked it, expecting it to be Christy, and saw a message from her mother.
Won’t be back in London for Christmas, but money wired to your account. Fiona.
Alix stared at the message and then rolled her eyes. Hi, darling, have a great Christmas, love Mum. Fat chance.
She imagined her mother’s assistant tentatively putting her head round the door of Fiona’s chaotic office. A reminder to send a gift to your daughter, Professor Carpenter.
Her mother would have been irritated by the interruption.
She was relieved and a little proud that she felt nothing. There had been a time when a message like that would have punched a hole through her heart, but she was made of tougher stuff now. She’d worked hard to achieve this level of emotional control. Feelings—strong feelings—were inconvenient at best, painful at worst, and she made a point of avoiding them. It made life so much easier, so much smoother, that frankly she didn’t understand why more people didn’t do it.
Only last week she’d had to support her assistant through an emotional crisis when her boyfriend had ended their relationship. Alix had handed her a tissue, given her the rest of the day off and refrained from pointing out that if she just stayed single nothing like this would ever happen again.
“We’re here, Ms. Carpenter.” The car purred to a halt outside one of New York’s finest hotels, and a uniformed doorman stepped forward to open the door.
Alix pushed a ten-dollar bill into his hand and walked into the marble foyer.
A huge Christmas tree reached upwards, a stylish pyramid of silver and sparkle. Alix found herself thinking of the decorations Holly liked to hang on the tree. A misshapen reindeer she’d baked in the oven. A silver star with uneven points. In her opinion they held more appeal than the glittering symmetry of the ornaments adorning this tree.
She was going to have a brilliant family Christmas—just not with her own family.
Her boss, Miles, was waiting for her, phone in hand.
“You were right about that reindeer.” He showed her the screen. “It’s selling so fast we can’t keep the stores stocked.”
It was typical of him to dive straight into work, and that was fine with her.
They walked together toward their table in the ballroom, talking numbers and strategy.
The room was filling up fast, and when they finally took their seats and the evening began, Alix treated herself to a sip of champagne.
She chatted to her colleagues, keeping the conversation light and neutral. When they asked about her plans for the holidays, she told them she’d be spending it with friends in Lapland.
When one of them asked about her family she brushed the question aside, deflecting as she always did. It really didn’t bother her that her parents had no wish to spend Christmas with her, but it was hard to convince people of that, so she preferred not to talk about it.
It would have been easy for her to hate Christmas, but thanks to Christy she loved it. Her friend’s generosity was something she never took for granted. Their friendship was the most important thing in the world to her.
Now that, she thought as she took another sip of champagne, was the one relationship where she allowed her emotions to be engaged. She loved Christy like a sister, and Christy loved her back. Their lives had been intertwined since childhood and they knew every little detail about one another.
She knew that Christy hated peanut butter and always slept with two pillows. She knew that she preferred baths to showers, that she never went to bed without first applying moisturizer, and that she threw her mascara away after exactly three months—she made a note in her diary. She knew that Christy would always choose to eat a raw carrot over a bowl of ice cream, and that she’d only ever been blind drunk once in her life. Vodka. Never again. She knew that Christy’s way of handling a difficult situation was to ignore it, and that the last thing she did before she went to bed at night was make a list of all the things she had to do the following day.
And Christy knew her, too. Christy was the only one who knew Alix had lost her virginity to Charlie Harris, and that sometimes she liked to sleep with a light on. There was nothing they couldn’t say to each other, and she knew nothing would ever damage their friendship. It had occurred to her more than once that what you needed most to help you navigate childhood and adolescence wasn’t good parents, but a great friend. It was the only relationship she’d ever let herself rely on.
“Wake up, Carpenter.” Miles nudged her. “We won. Get up on that stage and make a speech.”
She heard the applause, saw images of their campaign flash across the giant screens, and walked with the rest of her team to collect the award.
As she returned to her seat she felt her phone vibrate.
She sneaked a look and saw Christy’s name on the screen.
It was three in the morning in London. Christy was a big believer in the restorative powers of sleep, which was why she never had dark circles around her eyes like Alix. She would never call in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency.