The Christmas Shop at Central Park by Jo Bartlett

Author:Jo Bartlett [Bartlett, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fabrian Books
Published: 2017-11-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The food kiosks at Bryant Park Winter Village were an assault on the senses, and my stomach rumbled in response.

“What do you fancy?” Harry turned to me as he spoke.

“It all smells so good, I might need a recommendation.”

“The pretzels stuffed with Swiss cheese and ham are pretty unbeatable.” Harry kept hold of my hand as people surged past us on both sides, heading toward the ice rink.

“Sounds good to me.” He was such easy company to be in, and I was glad I’d decided to take up his offer. My time in New York was a bit like looking inside one of the snow globes, but I was actually inside the bubble—for the next few weeks at least. After that, it would just be a memory that I got out every now and then, but could never go back to.

I waited while Harry ordered the pretzels, and looked up at the huge Christmas tree at one end of the ice rink. He was right, New Yorkers really knew how to do Christmas. We’d already been to the zoo at Central Park to see the penguins, and there’d been another flurry of snow whilst we were there, making it feel even more like a scene from a Christmas card. Harry had clearly meant what he said about showing me as much of a New York Christmas as he could fit in on one day, too. After we finished at the winter village, we were going on to the market at Grand Central Station, then for a walk to look at the window displays in all the big department stores, before ending up at the Rockefeller Center, to see what Harry promised me would be the best Christmas tree I’d ever laid eyes on. If he was trying to convince me that New York was special, he didn’t have to try so hard.

“What do you think?” Harry smiled as I took a bite of the pretzel.

“It’s amazing. Honestly, I never knew a pretzel could taste like this. The ones at home are like cardboard in comparison.”

“I don’t suppose pretzels—even ones this good—could convince you to stay in New York?”

“Let me get back to you on that!” I didn’t want to get into a conversation about going home. This was my perfect snow globe day, and reality definitely wasn’t allowed in.

“So, what do what do you eat in England at Christmas?”

“Mince pies, Christmas cake, Christmas pudding.” I laughed. “There’s a lot of dried fruit involved, now I come to think of it.”

“Maybe I should give that a try, I’ve always wanted to go to England, and Canterbury is definitely on my wish list to visit.”

“Really?” I was surprised he’d even heard of the small city I’d called home since my parents had died. Not that we didn’t have lots of tourists, but, if I’d had to choose between Christmas with a view of the Empire State Building, or carols at Canterbury Cathedral—beautiful as that was in its own way—there’d be no contest for me.

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