consciousness, memories drifting and dancing through his mind even when he tried to push them away. She lingered there now.
He recalled her scent, something young and girlish and flowery. He didn’t think she used the same perfume now. And her hair had been wild and curly and artless, not her current glossy bob. He remembered the feel of those curls bouncing against his chest as she laughed in his arms.
Now Eleanor Langley looked totally different from the young woman he’d fallen in love with. He wondered if the changes were intentional. Had she transformed herself into this hardened career woman on purpose? Or had it happened gradually, without her even realising, the product of ten years’ ceaseless striving in this heartless city?
And what about underneath?
Had her heart changed?
Ten years ago he’d judged her heart. He’d thought her cold and scheming and had walked away without ever finding out the truth. He’d thought he’d known it. He’d been so sure…
Now every certainty had been scattered, leaving him both hopeful and afraid. He didn’t know what the future could hold, for him or Eleanor. He didn’t even dare think, or question or wonder.
If only …
Jace left Eleanor’s building, clamping his mind down on that thought as he walked down the dark, empty street.
Eleanor woke slowly, swimming upwards through consciousness from a deep and dreamless sleep. She blinked slowly; her room seemed to be obscured by a soft white haze.
As she sat up in bed, pushing her tangled mass of hair out of her eyes, she realised why. It was snowing. She scrambled out of bed and hurried to the window, pressing her hand against the cold glass. Outside the city’s skyscrapers werelost in a snowstorm. Huge white flakes drifted down and the streets were already covered, the parked cars no more than white humps.
Snow.
She smiled, suddenly feeling as excited and hopeful as a child when she’d had a rare snow day. There had been a blizzard once, when she was nine, and her mother had been forced to stay home from work. Eleanor still remembered that magical moment when her mother had decided to stay home for the day. The telephones hadn’t been working, and, according to the television, no one was going anywhere. For a moment that pinched look had left her mother’s face and she’d smiled and shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll have a snow day,’ she’d said.
They’d trudged to Central Park through several feet of fluffy whiteness armed with a metal baking sheet—all the sledges had been sold out at the shop—and gone sledging on Cedar Hill near Seventy-Ninth Street. The feeling of flying down the hill, the world no more than a blur of muted colour, her mother’s arms wrapped around her, was one Eleanor had never forgotten. She carried it with her like a treasure.
Snow.
This sudden snowstorm felt like a treasure, a promise, a gift. Snow covered up all the grime and grit and hard concrete of the city, all the memories and regrets. It was a new beginning. A new hope. She didn’t have to think about what had happened before, didn’t have to carry the heavy, unbearable weight of ten years of memories or last night’s conversation with Jace. She’d let the snow fall over it, cloaking it in whiteness, hiding it from herself.
Suddenly, certainly, Eleanor knew how to make this party just what Jace wanted. What she wanted. Smiling with a new determination, she turned away from the window.
She soon became immersed in organisation, making calls, checking facts and details, and arranging the most amazing party Jace Zervas could ever imagine. The party of her career.
She loved the buzz of creating something, seeing it emerge from her own imagination, and this party in particular wasboth a challenge and a dream. She had just days to conjure something spectacular.
The amount of work also kept her from thinking. Remembering. She was grateful for the activity that kept her from dwelling on the pain Jace had raked up, the regrets
He recalled her scent, something young and girlish and flowery. He didn’t think she used the same perfume now. And her hair had been wild and curly and artless, not her current glossy bob. He remembered the feel of those curls bouncing against his chest as she laughed in his arms.
Now Eleanor Langley looked totally different from the young woman he’d fallen in love with. He wondered if the changes were intentional. Had she transformed herself into this hardened career woman on purpose? Or had it happened gradually, without her even realising, the product of ten years’ ceaseless striving in this heartless city?
And what about underneath?
Had her heart changed?
Ten years ago he’d judged her heart. He’d thought her cold and scheming and had walked away without ever finding out the truth. He’d thought he’d known it. He’d been so sure…
Now every certainty had been scattered, leaving him both hopeful and afraid. He didn’t know what the future could hold, for him or Eleanor. He didn’t even dare think, or question or wonder.
If only …
Jace left Eleanor’s building, clamping his mind down on that thought as he walked down the dark, empty street.
Eleanor woke slowly, swimming upwards through consciousness from a deep and dreamless sleep. She blinked slowly; her room seemed to be obscured by a soft white haze.
As she sat up in bed, pushing her tangled mass of hair out of her eyes, she realised why. It was snowing. She scrambled out of bed and hurried to the window, pressing her hand against the cold glass. Outside the city’s skyscrapers werelost in a snowstorm. Huge white flakes drifted down and the streets were already covered, the parked cars no more than white humps.
Snow.
She smiled, suddenly feeling as excited and hopeful as a child when she’d had a rare snow day. There had been a blizzard once, when she was nine, and her mother had been forced to stay home from work. Eleanor still remembered that magical moment when her mother had decided to stay home for the day. The telephones hadn’t been working, and, according to the television, no one was going anywhere. For a moment that pinched look had left her mother’s face and she’d smiled and shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll have a snow day,’ she’d said.
They’d trudged to Central Park through several feet of fluffy whiteness armed with a metal baking sheet—all the sledges had been sold out at the shop—and gone sledging on Cedar Hill near Seventy-Ninth Street. The feeling of flying down the hill, the world no more than a blur of muted colour, her mother’s arms wrapped around her, was one Eleanor had never forgotten. She carried it with her like a treasure.
Snow.
This sudden snowstorm felt like a treasure, a promise, a gift. Snow covered up all the grime and grit and hard concrete of the city, all the memories and regrets. It was a new beginning. A new hope. She didn’t have to think about what had happened before, didn’t have to carry the heavy, unbearable weight of ten years of memories or last night’s conversation with Jace. She’d let the snow fall over it, cloaking it in whiteness, hiding it from herself.
Suddenly, certainly, Eleanor knew how to make this party just what Jace wanted. What she wanted. Smiling with a new determination, she turned away from the window.
She soon became immersed in organisation, making calls, checking facts and details, and arranging the most amazing party Jace Zervas could ever imagine. The party of her career.
She loved the buzz of creating something, seeing it emerge from her own imagination, and this party in particular wasboth a challenge and a dream. She had just days to conjure something spectacular.
The amount of work also kept her from thinking. Remembering. She was grateful for the activity that kept her from dwelling on the pain Jace had raked up, the regrets
Similar Books
