Page 53 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye
“You serious?” Simon set down his stylus, leaving his jumpsuit sketch with half a sleeve. “He played in the NHL?”
“Yeah, for nine years—for Vancouver, Calgary, and Chicago.”
Simon picked up his juice, taking a quick sip. “I grew up watching Hockey Night in Canada on the CBC every Saturday…”
Simon likes hockey?
“…and your dad is on it now. How fun is that?”
Leia smiled. “So, being a Montréaler, you must be a Habs fan.”
“Ah, good guess, but nope. Isles all the way.”
What? The New York Islanders? A sour taste rose in Leia’s throat. Out of all the teams, he cheers for Tyler’s? There’s no way I can tell him my married name was McClelland. Heaven help me if he’s up on all the gossip. I couldn’t deal with his pity.
“Imagine how that went down growing up in Montré—” His phone erupted beside his drawing tablet. “Just a sec.” He casually picked up. “Hey, Spence.” Simon’s eyes pinched—then opened wide, brimming with joy. “Oh! Be right there.” Pushing back his chair, he abandoned his phone on the table. “There’s a delivery downstairs.”
Thank god. Leia nodded in relief.
Stairs groaning under Simon’s pounding size elevens, she worked her dress form, pinning lace tiers to the shoulders before fiddling with the neckline again. She whipped out her phone from her jeans and stood back, fitting the full silhouette into frame. If Shantelle likes these changes, I can start sewing tonight. She snapped photos from different angles and began to record a video, but a text interrupted her fashion shoot.
Sarah: I GOT IT!
Leia’s heart leapt into her throat. “Saz!” She squealed as she typed.
Leia: I knew you would! So proud! xo
A second text bubble bumped Sarah’s first message up the screen.
Sarah: Let’s celebrate! Meet at 7. St. Bart’s Brewery on West Smithfield.
Leia snickered. “Yes, Saz.” She selected the thumbs-up emoji and hit send as Simon, barely winded from his sprint up the stairs, strode through the doorway with a large wicker box in his arms. What the? Her stare zeroed in on the metal buckles and leather ties holding the lid closed. “What is THAT?”
“Lunch!” Simon grinned, resting his weighty bounty on the table. “Just in time, too. With all that growling coming from your stomach, I thought an alien was about to burst from your belly.”
Leia chuckled and slid her phone into her hoodie’s pocket. “You sure it’s not lunch and dinner?” She tilted her head, examining the black F & M stenciled on the wicker’s front. “It’s massive!”
“Heavy, too. It’s a hamper from Fortnum & Mason on Piccadilly. Crazy, eh?”
Piccadilly? Sounds expensive. “Isn’t Fortnum & Mason like Harrods?”
“Yeah, they’re both upscale stores, but Fortnum’s specializes in food, wine, and homewares from around the world. Even the Queen shops there.” Simon threaded the ties through the buckles. “If you’re looking for fancy cookies, teas, or jams, Fortnum’s is the place. They do a gorgeous afternoon tea, too. You’d love all the baked goods and fancy sandwiches.”
“Maybe, yeah.” Leia ran her finger along the edge of the wicker box. “Looks like I picked the perfect day to forget my lunch. Simon, you really didn’t have to.”
“Hold your horses, girl—it’s not from me.” The stairs creaked as he flipped open the lid and reached inside.
A satisfied client, then? Her eyes narrowed. Is that prosecco? Spencer’s gonna love that.
“Tarquin sent it.” Simon glanced over his shoulder, his smile greeting someone blonde—someone who wasn’t Spencer.
“That’s Tarquin, Mr. Generous!” The blue-eyed arrival whisked off her knit hat, her long bangs and tresses speckled with mist from the wintery mayhem outdoors. “He can’t help it. Giving is in his DNA.”
Tarquin sent it? And… who’s she? Leia’s eyes widened. She’s American. Pretty. Obviously knows Tarquin.
Simon met her gape. “Leia…”
A flicker of surprise washed over the American visitor’s face. She looked at Leia and her baggy Pitt hoodie.
