Page 26 of Winter With You

A few seconds went by and then the blue velvet curtain parted and Phoebe stepped back out into the room. And that’s when that feeling arrived in his gut, that pitter-patter of conviction telling him that this he had got absolutely correct.

‘Oh, Phoebe, you look… stunning,’ Gabriella said, her tone loaded with emotion.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Phoebe said, one hand on the silk and lace skirt and swaying it in the air.

Phoebe smiled, still dancing. ‘Do you know what this building used to be? Because Gabriella thinks it was where smugglers stored illegal alcohol.’

‘Really?’ Luca said, an eyebrow rising as he looked back at his client.

‘If you don’t know the answer it’s as good a guess as any.’

‘Actually, I do know the answer,’ Luca said. ‘It was a dance hall and then a ballet studio. So, you are dressed en pointe, shall we say?’

‘Wow,’ Phoebe said, eyes going to the arched windows. ‘That’s so cool.’ She looked back to him and Gabriella. ‘My mum always wanted to dance in New York. On a stage. She was an amazing dancer.’

‘So,’ Gabriella interrupted. ‘These clothes I’m not going to wear… what happens now because we don’t have that long.’

Luca knew exactly what happened next.

‘Let’s leave Cheyenne behind and get out of here.’

‘What?’ Gabriella said.

‘Unless you want her with us,’ Luca said.

‘No.’ This had come from Phoebe and she continued. ‘I mean… it’s not my decision… but I find her a little controlling and sometimes… actually… mean. And I’ve only known her a day. Or maybe two with the… time zones.’

Silence reigned and Luca let it breathe until Gabriella broke it.

‘You have an escape route?’ she asked him.

‘Always,’ he answered confidently.

‘Then let’s go.’

17

‘I don’t want to rip the beautiful dress.’

Phoebe was standing tentatively on the final step of the fire escape as Gabriella and Luca watched her from below. It was a bit of a leap to the concrete ground of the alleyway but not unsurmountable. Although Gabriella’s experience with getaways of this nature were vaster than her niece’s. And the way Luca had slid with confidence across the ironwork as they made their way, she was guessing this wasn’t his first rodeo either. Somewhat intriguing.

‘You’re not going to rip the dress, Phoebe,’ Gabriella called to her.

‘Hey,’ Luca said next. ‘And if you rip the dress it’s OK. I can fix it.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Gabriella said in a lower tone.

‘What?’

‘Well, you know, I can’t fix things like that in the future, so a positive affirmation that nothing will happen to the dress is better than positively encouraging the possibility of ripping.’

Luca stared at her like what she had said was either in a foreign tongue or unintelligible for another reason. And then he spoke. ‘What the fuck?’

‘What?’ Gabriella said, shrugging. ‘I don’t have needlework skills and I’m pretty sure my stylist is not supposed to judge me.’

‘I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard anyone describe a potential accident like a misdemeanour liable for punishment.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ She swallowed. Had she? If she had it was the years and years living with her parents where every mistake or accidental incident was treated like failure, followed up with isolation and excommunication until a deep apology was given or enough time had passed to grant re-entrance into familial patterns.