Christmas for One: No Greater Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the depths.
    Meg tilted her head to take in the looming skyscrapers which all but blocked the last of the day’s light from the streets. New York, she decided, made her feel very small. A street-cart vendor with an apron over his padded coat and an ‘NYPD’ beanie pulled over his ears stood on the corner of Church and Canal selling fat, soft pretzels with a choice of sweet mustard or sourcream dip. Meg’s tastebuds prickled and her stomach groaned; she wanted one. She smiled. New York looked and sounded like nowhere else she’d ever been and she wanted to experience it all.
    Oblivious to the beeps and shouts from the cars behind him, the taxi driver suddenly swung the cab into West 11th, Greenwich Village and pulled up outside a tall, slim brownstone building with black window frames, one of several identical terraces. This was the Inn on 11th, where she was to stay. As Milly had pointed out, it would be far more congenial than a faceless chain hotel and hopefully the ‘suite-style’ bedroom would be spacious enough to make her feel at home. Plus it was a couple of blocks from the new Plum Patisserie.
    Meg paid the driver from her stash of dollars, counting the unfamiliar currency slowly from her palm before watching as he roared away, leaving a plume of smoke in his wake. She took a deep breath and walked backwards up the steps that led to the front door, bumping her suitcase up with her arms stretched out in front of her. At the top she gripped the freezing scrolled-iron railing for support and pushed the tarnished brass bell on the black front door. She was nose to nose with a vast and tawdry wreath, its red plastic berries and spiky green fronds covered in fake frosting, its tartan ribbon distinctly faded. She hoped this wasn’t a clue as to what lay within.
    The front door opened eventually to reveal an elderly, miserable-looking man, whose gold name-badge read ‘Salvatore’. He gave a long sigh and appeared to be in no hurry. ‘My wife and I are happy to welcome you to the Inn on 11th.’ He looked past her to the middle distance and held out his upturned palm before letting it fall to his thigh. He sounded anything but happy.
    ‘Thank you! It’s good to be here, finally. Bit of a long journey, exciting though.’ Meg stamped her boots on the thick coconut mat inlaid on the hallway floor, trying to restore some feeling to her toes. ‘It’s so cold!’
    Salvatore ignored her pleasantries, clearly in no mood for making small talk. Meg pictured how Milly would have reacted to his welcome; he was what she might describe as a right old smiler! She spoke to the man’s back as he shuffled forward in his shiny black shoes. He was dressed smartly, in navy slacks and a crisp white shirt under a royal-blue V-neck sweater, and still held the echoes of his handsome youth, with his trim figure, good skin and bright, clear eyes. His thick shock of grey hair was cut and combed into a side parting that brought to mind the Rat Pack. It was only his stoop and slightly unstable gait that betrayed his eight decades on the planet.
    Meg let her eyes rove over the large, square, open-plan hallway cum sitting room with its flock wallpaper, dark wood floors and oversized green marble fireplace. There was an eclectic mix of antiques and retro pieces: comfy-looking leather chairs with cracks of age on the broad arms, trunks covered in vintage labels, which doubled as tables, and a cast-iron hat-stand from which hung fairy lights. A six-foot fake Christmas tree in a red plastic pot leant against the wall behind the reception desk. Its branches were crammed full of angels, baubles, wooden Santas, snowmen and reindeer, all in a riot of colours. She winced at the lack of uniformity, having learnt a thing or two about display and design during her time at Plum’s. The tree seemed to have been decorated haphazardly, possibly by an impatient or grumpy Salvatore, in the way Lucas might do it, leaving Meg, unable to resist, to put