If he’d stayed around and damped down the friendliness, instead of sloping off, he might have been able to hustle Gran onto the train and only bad luck would have made them meet again.
Too little, too late, too bad, and he’d just have to move on, he thought as he picked up the pace and clenched his fist in his pocket. Now he really needed the coffee to wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat.
Funny how feelings he’d thought he’d forgotten rolled in his belly like it was yesterday, and he searched for the anger that had finally obliterated the hurt of her no-show at their wedding. The one person he’d thought he could trust. Damn her.
The forgotten embers flared and the heat of it gave him pause. The rational person he was now frowned it down and locked it away. Douse it. It was water under the bridge, and there were plenty of bridges in Venice to let it wash away, quite symbolic really.
It was just the shock. Not a huge deal after all. He began to feel better.
Sitting uncomfortably on a seat she didn’t want, Kelsie watched Connor Black stride away, the man who used to be her best friend, so tall, so rigidly straight, waves of disdain emanating from him like mist from the canals, and she remembered the last time she’d seen him. She hadn’t expected it would be fifteen years before she saw him again.
The elderly lady next to her leaned closer and the serene scent of Arpège perfume drifted across the seat. Kelsie inhaled it with a pang and the penny dropped that this must be the woman who rode the Orient Express whom Connor had talked about all those years ago. The reason Kelsie had sketched in this journey on her bucket list.
The elderly lady twinkled up at her, her faded blue eyes shone, brightly inquisitive, and despite the pit that had just opened Kelsie couldn’t help a small smile back.
‘I’m Winsome Black. And if I’m not mistaken, you know my grandson, Connor?’
‘Kelsie Summers. I knew him a long time ago.’ She sighed for the idealism of a young Connor and her part in fracturing it.
Winsome snorted. ‘Must have been memorable because I rarely see any expression cross my grandson’s face and that was a positive grimace.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ Kelsie couldn’t help the rueful smile that escaped. True, it hadn’t been a happy face on poor Connor, and she couldn’t help another swift peek to where extraordinarily broad shoulders were just disappearing into the station coffee shop.
He’d changed. A lot. She blinked the last image away. He’d always been a favourite with the girls but she’d bet his wife hated having him out of her sight. Where would they be now if she hadn’t run away?
‘So you’re that Kelsie!’ It wasn’t a question. ‘How fascinating.’ This was accompanied by a demure smile and an even brighter twinkle in the eye of the older lady, and Kelsie almost wished she’d followed Connor. Her thoughts must have shown because Winsome touched her arm.
‘Don’t go. I’ll be good. But it’s Christmas in two days. You could humour an old lady’s curiosity just a little.’ Not waiting for permission, Winsome launched into her cross-examination. ‘Are you married?’
Not a lot she could do about this, Kelsie thought as she accepted the inevitable, so she settled back for the interrogation with what composure she could muster. ‘No.’
‘Why not? A young, attractive woman like yourself must have had her chances.’
Kelsie shrugged. ‘I didn’t marry the man I did love. So I wasn’t going to marry one I didn’t.’
Winsome looked dubious. ‘I think that makes sense.’
‘And I love my independence and my work.’ She hadn’t meant to sound defensive. She wasn’t feeling defensive!
‘I know someone like that.’ Winsome shook her head at a thought she didn’t share. ‘So you’re not even engaged?’ Inquisitive faded blue eyes twinkled at her again.
Kelsie lifted her chin. ‘No.’ Her life was good just as it was.
Winsome sat back. ‘Connor’s not married either.’ She acknowledged Kelsie’s narrowed gaze and obviously decided she’d pried enough. ‘I’ll stop.’
Kelsie raised her brows. ‘You seemed to have acquired the salient information.’ And imparted a bit as well. Why wasn’t Connor married?
‘My modus operandi, dear.’
‘I consider myself warned,’ Kelsie muttered to herself, but there was food for thought in her new knowledge. How could that be?
As if she’d heard the thought, Winsome added, ‘He’s been very busy with his career.’ Then she smiled and Kelsie wasn’t so sure she trusted the unholy glee in the older woman’s face. ‘And here he comes.’
When Connor arrived he handed Kelsie her coffee without a glance and ignored her murmured thanks.
Winsome accepted hers with all-seeing eyes and directed her attention to her grandson and pretended to sigh. ‘I’m disappointed with the waiting room for the world’s most glamorous journey.’ There was a special twinkle in her eyes as if she knew a secret no one else did.
Connor glanced at the tiny white sign alone on the concrete. ‘Me, too. If only I could make it happen for you, Gran, I would.’ He snapped his fingers.
As if conjured up, like Mary Poppins’s sister, a young woman in a gold-edged royal-blue skirt and high-collared jacket high-heeled her way across the concourse towards them, pushing a tall wooden reception desk on wheels. Another equally well-dressed young woman pushed a covered luggage trolley.
Kelsie blinked. It wasn’t luggage on the trolley. It was furniture.
The hostess directed her junior to unroll a plush, deep red carpet stamped with a blue and gold insignia and then… magic.
Kelsie blinked again as within seconds a large circular waiting area sprang up in an empty space on the grey concrete. The beautiful oak reception desk, also sporting insignias, two potted palms in four-legged oak pots, also on wheels, a gold-edged name plate on the desk and a bowl of roses. Kelsie thought they looked suspiciously real.
The young hostess snapped open a box of labels and turned to the bemused crowd. ‘Who is first?’ She smiled and then disappeared from view for a moment behind the surge of patrons.
‘I can see why you travel with him,’ Kelsie whispered to Winsome as they stayed seated to allow the crowd to thin, and Winsome nodded complacently.
At that moment the unmistakable sound of a diesel engine and rattle of wheels on rails heralded the arrival of the world’s most famous train and everyone paused to look.
Shiny blue carriages, with burnished gold edges and gold lettering, and gleaming panes of glass all came closer until the brakes screeched as the wheels locked on the rails and inched to a stop.
The anticipation in the air rose like the smell of diesel from the train.
Thank goodness for the distraction, Kelsie thought with relief. It was the perfect excuse to put some distance between her and Connor. She turned to Winsome. ‘May I leave my bag here while I go and have a closer look?’
Winsome patted her leg. ‘Of course.’
Kelsie stood hastily and without glancing at the man looming over her she carried her disposable coffee cup to the platform and began to wander up the length of the train.
Such shiny gold trim around the windows and gorgeous lettering proclaiming ‘Express Eurpeen’ above the glass, but it was that chance to peer in, that glimpse into a bygone era that attracted her. Each cabin held an ornate bench seat with tiny lace-covered tables and a dainty pink lamp next to a delicate orchid that danced in a slender crystal vase, and everywhere rich, dark panelling glowed in the dim light with exquisite parquetry. She couldn’t wait to see which tiny cabin