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Chapter Ten
December …
“Not so bad, huh?”
“Oh, my! I’m getting a crick in my neck.” Bridget had to tip her head all the way back just to take in the tallest building of Rockefeller Center and the towering Christmas tree that sparkled in front of it.
“You look like a tourist,” Jonas teased.
“I don’t care,” she laughed. “I am a tourist. New York at Christmastime is amazing.” The plaza was thronged with people who felt the same way, happily taking pictures of each other in front of the world-famous tree, the NBC storefront, New York police cars—in short, everything.
“Want to go skating?” He nodded toward the rink below the tree, crowded with skaters of every age going around at a stately pace.
“Uh—okay. It’s been a while, though.” She thought back to the pristine lake where she and Jonas had once gone skating, years ago. There hadn’t been a mark on the thick, snow-swept ice until they’d ventured out onto it together, hand in hand. The hush of woods in winter had been broken only by their voices, echoing back from the surrounding hills.
The recorded music, a waltz, came to an end and the skaters left. From its place in the corner, the Zamboni machine rumbled forth to scrape and smooth the ice. Bridget watched the process, thinking how much Molly would enjoy skating here. The rink had plenty of kids her age waiting in line for their turn to skate.
“Let’s do it.” Jonas took her hand, giving it a squeeze. She could feel the warmth through her gloves and his. They descended the stairs on the Fifth Avenue side of the plaza, pausing to admire the Christmas angels in facing rows, made of white wire that looked like spun sugar, their trumpets raised in silent joy.
The line moved quickly as people rented skates and put them on, clomping the short distance from the rental counter to the ice, laughing and talking. The novices grabbed the rails of the clear encircling wall to get there, bravely stepping out, knees wobbling.
Jonas took care of the rental while Bridget just enjoyed the show. Red-cheeked, bundled-up children went by, clinging to the hands of adults, some of whom were pretty good skaters, she noted with surprise. Like almost everywhere in New York, the rink was crowded, but the people on it maneuvered around each other with an expertise only acquired in big cities.
It wasn’t Vermont but it sure was fun. The flags of Rockefeller Center fluttered above, streaming out from black-enameled poles, their bright colors picked up by the scarves and winter coats of the tourists. She’d noticed that even black-clad New Yorkers allowed themselves a dash of color around the neck—the street vendors of scarves and shawls made that kind of impulse buy too easy and too inexpensive to resist.
She felt Jonas’s hand pat her on the back and they sat down on a cold bench to put on their skates, as giddy as they had been all that time ago.
In another few minutes, they were gliding around in a stately circle of their own, big smiles on their faces.
“I feel like I’m in a Christmas card,” Bridget said.
“You are,” Jonas said.
She let go of Jonas and skated a little ahead, then turned around to look at him, going backwards. “I can still do it!” she cried gleefully. She skated back to his side in a few seconds, not wanting to be reprimanded by the rink monitor, who was fortunately looking elsewhere.
“Good for you,” Jonas chuckled. He nodded to a guy who cast an appreciative glance at Bridget, his silent message obvious. Forget it, pal. She’s with me.
Yes, I am, Bridget thought. And do I ever like it.
They tired of going in circles eventually and returned their skates, watched by a line of people that had grown even longer during their time on the ice.
“Okay, we can cross that off the list,” Bridget said. “Now I want to see the windows at Saks Fifth Avenue.”
“It means another line,” Jonas warned her with a laugh.
“Let’s get cocoa to go. At least we’ll be warm while we wait.”
The strategy worked well, although Bridget would have to say that New York was nowhere as cold as Vermont. The crowds that bustled by, the constant flow of heavy traffic, even the tall buildings, seemed to create a warmth of their own—and an excitement that was contagious.
Their cups of cocoa were empty before they turned the final corner on the temporary ropes in front of the holiday windows. Jonas took hers and stacked it inside his own, slipping the empty cups inside his pocket.
“Thanks,” she said, then peered into the windows, close enough to see the detail of each fantasy setting at last. Winter fairies were up to delightful mischief in the first, and each subsequent window had its own tale to tell, using animated figures and design wizardry that was far beyond anything she could possibly do in Randolph. But what she saw was so magical that Bridget was determined to bring at least a little of it to her own holiday decorating, at home and at her shop.
She sighed with admiration over each window, reluctant to leave. But there were other people waiting patiently in line and they couldn’t linger. She let Jonas take her arm as they crossed the street, heading south on Fifth Avenue. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“To see a couple of friends of mine.”
She looked up at him, a little worried. “Oh. Who?”
