Something From Tiffany’s by Melissa Hill Page B

Dad,’ Daisy said, completely unperturbed by the fact that, after all that, they’d got absolutely no where. ‘She makes cookies. And she smells nice.’
    Ethan smiled distractedly. ‘Yes, yes, she’s lovely.’ What on earth was he going to do now?
    Suddenly he felt completely exhausted by the events of the last few days. He was all out of ideas. It was too late to change this evening’s flight, and even if the airline was amenable they’d no doubt charge him a fortune to do so at such a late stage. In any case, even if they did stay on longer it wasn’t as if he could camp out here at the hospital until Knowles got better. Vanessa was suspicious enough as it was.
    He picked up his cup of coffee and drank from it, although he might as well have been drinking dishwater. In fact, he realised he hadn’t tasted anything or indeed eaten properly since Christmas morning, when all of this started.
    ‘What are we going to do now, Dad?’ Daisy asked. ‘Should we just go to Tiffany’s and get Vanessa another ring?’
    Oh the innocence of eight-year-olds! As if Ethan had tens of thousands tucked away somewhere . . .
    He picked up the cookie she’d been eating, hoping that the sugar rush might help sort out his nausea. ‘Give me a bite of that.’
    ‘But, Dad, you’re not supposed to eat too many!’
    ‘Who says?’ he teased. ‘There’s no such thing as too many cookies.’ He shoved a handful of them into his mouth in a weak imitation of the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street .
    She giggled; it was a sound that always made his heart lift. ‘Dad, you’re silly.’
    ‘No, you are.’
    ‘No, you are.’
    And as Ethan continued to banter with his beloved daughter, he remembered that no matter what, there was always at least one woman in his life who made everything seem better.

Chapter 9
    ‘I know, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Rachel said into the phone later that day. Though she and Terri had left phone messages for each other over the last day or so, this was the first time they had actually connected.
    Despite the scary turn he’d taken at the hospital earlier, Gary was once again in a stable condition, but barely lucid, which meant that Rachel was still waiting for her grand proposal. As there was little point in her hanging around the ward, Kim had advised her to head back to the hotel and get some rest, and had promised to call if his condition changed.
    In the meantime, Rachel had taken the opportunity to call her best friend and tell her the ‘big’ news.
    ‘All I can say is that when he does ask you, he’d better get down on one knee, or the next time he comes in here, the only beer he’ll get served will be right over his head. And don’t think for a second that I’m joking!’
    Rachel laughed. She and Terri always shared this kind of good-natured banter about Gary, but beneath it all was an undercurrent of mutual love and support.
    They had met in catering school many years before, and right from the time they were partnered up during the bakery section of the course their connection had been fast and furious.
    That first day, as they were braiding dough, Rachel broke off a piece, cupped it beneath her nose and breathed in the aroma and warmth of it. ‘God, what is it about the smell of fresh dough?’ she’d asked, moaning softly and closing her eyes.
    ‘I don’t know, but before you have an orgasm here in front of me, save it for my famous sourdough,’ Terri quipped. ‘It’ll make your mouth water and your legs quiver. In fact, it came between me and my last boyfriend. He was jealous; couldn’t handle it.’
    Rachel laughed out loud. ‘Nah, just wait till a warm piece of my Sicilian olive bread passes your lips and melts on your tongue, then you’ll know all about it.’
    ‘Bring it on,’ Terri had challenged.
    And so it went. At that time, Rachel was a country girl new to Dublin and without many friends whereas Terri was Dublin born and bred. After lectures the next day the