Danielle Steel - Matters Of The Heart

“This is more fun than eating turkey,” Hope giggled, as she finished the last of the pork, while Finn polished off the shrimp and grinned.

“Yes, it is. Thanks for coming with me.” He looked at her gently. He was deeply touched by her now that he knew all that she’d gone through. It made her seem vulnerable and so alone to him.

“Where are you staying, by the way?” she asked casually.

“I usually stay at the Pierre,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He was full and happy as he smiled at her. “But I took a room at the Mercer this time, because it’s close to you.” He had really come to New York to see her. It was more pressure than she wanted, but right now she didn’t mind. She was having a lovely time with him. And somehow being there with him made sense. They hardly knew each other, but she felt a powerful bond with him now that she had told him about Mimi.

“It’s actually a nice hotel,” she said, trying to look relaxed about his being so nearby. She was still a little stunned that he was there.

“I don’t really care about the room.” He grinned ruefully. “I just wanted to see you. Thanks for not being mad that I showed up.”

“It’s a pretty major gesture, I’ll admit.” She remembered how stunned she was when she saw him on her front stoop. “But a nice one too. I don’t think anyone’s ever flown from anywhere to see me.” She smiled back at him as the waiter brought them fortune cookies and the check, and she laughed when she read hers, and handed it to him.

“‘You can expect a visit from a friend.’” He laughed out loud, and then read his to her too. “‘Good news is coming soon.’ I like these. I usually get the ones that say ‘A teacher is a wise man.’ Or ‘Pick up your laundry tomorrow or else.’”

“Yeah, me too.” She laughed again. They walked slowly back to her apartment, and he left her at the front door. He had dropped his bag off at the hotel before he came to see her. And it was nearly one in the morning by then, six o’clock in London, and he was starting to run out of steam. “Thank you for coming, Finn,” she said softly, and he smiled at her and then kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m glad I did. And I liked our Christmas dinner. We’ll have to make it a tradition to eat Chinese food instead of turkey. I’ll call you in the morning,” he promised, and she let herself into the building with her key, waved, and watched him walk down the street toward the hotel. She was still thinking about him as she walked upstairs. It had been a lovely evening, and a totally unexpected treat. It was certainly out of the ordinary for her.

She was getting undressed when she heard her computer tell her that she had mail. She went to look, and it was Finn.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening. My best Christmas ever, and our first. Sweet dreams.”

This time she answered, as she sat down to her desk. It was all a little overwhelming, and she didn’t know what to think. “It was wonderful for me too. Thank you for coming. See you tomorrow.”

She glanced at Mimi’s photographs as she got up from her desk. She was glad that she had shared her with Finn. In an odd way, for a few minutes at least, it brought her back into their midst. She would have been twenty-two by then, and it was still hard to believe she was gone. It was odd how people came into one’s life, and left, and then others came when you least expected them to appear. For the moment, Finn was an unexpected blessing. And whatever happened, she was grateful to have spent Christmas night with him. She was still stunned that he was there. She had decided not to let herself worry about it and just enjoy the time they shared.

Finn called her the next morning and invited her to breakfast at the Mercer. She had nothing important to do and was delighted to join him. He was waiting for her in the lobby and looked as handsome as he had in London. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater with jeans, with his dark hair freshly brushed. He looked wide awake when she saw him, and he admitted he had been up for hours, and had walked around the neighborhood at the crack of dawn. He was still on London time.

Hope ordered eggs Benedict, and Finn ordered waffles. He said he missed them when he was in Europe, where they were never quite the same. He said the batter was different and in France they put sugar on them. He poured maple syrup all over them as Hope laughed at him. He had drowned them, but he looked ecstatic when he took a bite.

“What are your plans today?” he asked her over coffee.

“I was going up to the gallery where they’re showing some of my photographs of India. Would you like to come?”

“I’d love it. I want to see the show.”

They took a cab uptown after breakfast, and he was enormously impressed when he saw the work. It was beautifully hung in a large, prestigious gallery, and afterward they walked up Madison Avenue, and then over to Central Park to walk through the still white snow. In the rest of the city, it was melting and turning to slush, but it was still pristine in the park.

He asked her about India, and then they talked about her travels in Tibet and Nepal. They stopped at a bookseller’s cart on their way into the park, and found one of his early books. Hope wanted to buy it and he wouldn’t let her, and said it wasn’t one he loved. They talked about his work then, their agents and careers. He was impressed by all of her museum shows, and she was in awe of his National Book Award. They admired a great deal about each other, and seemed to share a lot of common ground, and as they came out of the park again, he took her for a ride in a horse-drawn carriage, which seemed silly and fun to both of them as they tucked the blanket around them, and giggled like two children.

It was lunchtime by the time the ride was finished, and he took her to lunch at La Grenouille, which was very chic, and they had a delicious meal. Finn liked to eat well, although Hope often skipped meals. And afterward they strolled back downtown on Fifth Avenue, and as she often did, they walked all the way back to SoHo. They were both tired, but had enjoyed spending the day together. He took her back to her apartment, and she invited him to come up, but he said he was going back to the hotel to take a nap.

“Would you like to go to dinner later, or do you have something else to do? I don’t want to take up all your time,” he said thoughtfully, although he had come to New York to do just that.

“I’d love it, if you’re not tired of me,” she said with a small smile. “Do you like Thai food?” He nodded enthusiastically, and she suggested a place she liked in the East Village.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” he promised, and kissed the top of her head. She went back to her loft then, and he walked back to his hotel. And although she tried not to, she thought about him for the next several hours. He was thoroughly enjoyable company, interesting to talk to, and suddenly an enormous presence. She had no idea what to make of it, or if she should even try to figure it out.

She was wearing gray slacks and a pink sweater when he came to pick her up. And they had a glass of wine before they went out. He didn’t comment on Mimi’s photographs this time, but he admired some of Hope’s other work. He said he wanted to go to the Museum of Modern Art the next day, to see some of her older work.

“You’re the only photographer I know who’s in museums,” he said with open admiration.

“And you’re the only author I know who’s won the National Book Award, and been knighted,” she said with equal pride. “That reminds me, I never call you ‘Sir Finn.’ Should I?”

“Not unless you want me to laugh at you. I still feel odd myself when I use it. Although it was pretty exciting to meet the queen.”

“I’ll bet it was.” She smiled broadly, and then she took out a box of photographs she had promised to show him, of Tibet. The photographs were amazing, and she pointed out several of her beloved monks.

“I don’t know how you managed not to talk for a month. I couldn’t do it,” he admitted readily. “Probably not even for a day.”

“It was fantastic. It was actually hard to start speaking again when I left. Everything I started to say seemed unimportant and too much. It really makes you think about what you’re saying. They were wonderful to me there. I’d love to go back one day. I promised them I would.”

“I’d love to see it, but not if I have to stop talking. I suppose I could write.”

“I kept a journal while I was there. Not talking gives you time for some fairly deep thoughts.”

“I suppose it would,” he said easily. She asked him then where he had lived when he grew up in New York. “The Upper East Side,” he replied. “The building isn’t there anymore. They tore it down years ago. And the apartment where I lived with Michael was on East Seventy-ninth. It was pretty small. That was before the books really took off. We had some lean years for a while,” he said without embarrassment. “When my parents died, they had pretty much eaten through the family money. They were fairly spoiled. Particularly my mother. The house in Ireland belonged to her family, and since there were no male heirs, they sold it. I’m glad I got it back. It’ll be nice for Michael to have one day, although I doubt he’ll want to live in Ireland, unless he’s a writer.” Finn grinned at the thought and Hope smiled. Ireland was famous for its no-tax policy for writers. She knew a number of them who had moved there. It was irresistible.

They left for the Thai restaurant then, and had an excellent meal. And while they ate dinner, Finn asked her what she was doing on New Year’s Eve.

“Same thing I do every year.” She grinned. “Go to bed at ten o’clock. I hate going out on New Year’s Eve. Everyone is crazy and drunk. It’s a great night to stay home.”