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Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City. Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if considerably larger.
Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the way. Love the color, Harriet.”
“The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
“I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights. They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very cool.”
Today’s challenge had been Don’t be reserved with strangers. She was fine when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her sister.
“It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything? Confidences. Shoes…”
“Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but lately she’d been trying hard to change.
And Harriet was trying to change too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it made you lazy. Or maybe complacent would be a better word. She’d never had to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit. Other people had good friendships but nothing, nothing, came close to the wonder of having a twin.
When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
“We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
“Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
That was an understatement.
The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable, like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat behind.
But this was now the reality of her life.
She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the floor.
Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long past retirement age.
She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was definitely something she would never do.
In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
In terms of romance, not so much.
Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better option.
“Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
Snowing?
Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for another month.”
“But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all. She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
“I really should be going.”
“You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk. Go. And don’t fall in the Dumpster.”
“Falling into the Dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom. “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
“No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going to be dessert.”
She’d thought the same thing.
Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was learning to ignore her instincts.
“It seems rude.”
“This is New York. You have to be street-smart. I’m going to keep him distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality? What made you agree to choose him?”
“I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down opposite her. He had so obviously not been the person in his profile that she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her. “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online dating.
Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up. Probably something outrageous.
Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
“That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
“Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
“He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
She felt weary. And stupid.
“After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
“You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone through work?”
“I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
Maybe she should stick with dogs.
She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window. And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
“Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
“If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back soon.”
Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
Friendship. That was perhaps the only F word she liked.
Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this restaurant ever again, because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
“You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from this date was bruises.
“Never better.”
Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things. First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot through her ankle.
For the first time in her life she used the F word to express something other than fear.
Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_8280d6c1-abbb-5b88-9227-2eb03ade1ee8)
ACROSS TOWN IN the trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for the rest of his life.
As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head injury.
“Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing instructions.
The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
“He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full. The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
“Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
“She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2 with multiple facial lacerations.”
“Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the screaming.”
“We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
“All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in good hands and getting the best treatment.”
It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ob-gyn, Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents, gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was endless and varied.
And the truth was he loved it.
He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in copious amounts.
They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess the extent of his head injury.
He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a surprisingly minor internal bleed.
He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend, who had arrived in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions. He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
He’d seen it all.
“Is he going to die?”
He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she call someone to come and be with her.
When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those been and gone.
Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care? You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids. You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably never see a drop of blood.”
“It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could go back to their families.
“All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.” Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
