Christmas at Tiffany's Read Online Free Page B

She wasn’t a struggling fresh-out-of-college type, but she continued to work hard to earn every inch forward and most likely those efforts didn’t include much in the way of extravagances, or unplanned expenses. She was impressive. Considering some of the self-centric, entitled people who populated the landscape of his life in New York and Los Angeles, Tiffany’s personality breathed through his mind like fresh air—even if it came to him wrapped by a dense, sparkling snowfall.
    Their seats overlooked a portion of 54th Street and Madison Avenue that was blanketed by untouched snow drifts. They placed an order for sodas and an entrée of spaghetti and meatballs. Once the wait for the food began, Tiffany gazed out the window, lost within the view outside. “It’s going to be so pretty in the morning before the city comes alive.” Her lips curved; her eyes went dreamy once more. “The storm will have passed and I imagine the sky will be a clear, dark blue just full of sunshine. Sure, it won’t last…sure, everyone will return to their routines…but for that brief, undisturbed bit of time, the snow will still be white, and the trees and buildings will sparkle.”
    Never once did she look his way. Rather, she seemed to dive headlong into the visual she described. Tiffany watched plows and cabs flash by; same as he, she tracked wool-shrouded people bustling past, pushing for home. Mitch didn’t see much more than annoying, oversized vehicles of yellow, lights casting strobes against the cold of a descending winter night. He saw folks buffeted by the inconvenience of inclement weather. Tiffany saw magic.
    Hoping he wouldn’t break some kind of rich spell, Mitch let go of a quiet breath he was holding. Seconds later, their waitress arrived with beverages which provided a cooling-off period he desperately needed. Tiffany sipped, sighed, and he was pulled toward her all over again.
    “Tell me what inspired your love of animals.”
    Something immediately shaded her eyes—something dark that she dismissed with a blink and the power of her smile. “If you ask me, they’re tough not to love. They’re innocent. And, just like people, they know only good things unless the world shows them otherwise. Put them into a situation where they can aid in a person’s healing, and I find it takes their beauty to a whole new level. I’m not naïve. I know and understand the pitfalls of psychological recovery and rehabilitation. That doesn’t stop me, though. I keep on hoping.”
    “It sounds to me like you’ve been there.”
    She sipped her drink, didn’t meet his eyes. The reaction spurred his curiosity.
    “Not as intensely as some of the people I’ve come across since I’ve started to study the field of counseling, but I’ve had strong connections to animals during the course of my life. I’ve always had pets. My current companions are Audrey and Oscar, two long-haired, gold and white tabby cats. They’re brother and sister.”
    Wearing a smile, she removed her suit coat and hung it on the back of her chair. The subtle diversion and topic shift didn’t push him into submission. Rather, he fell into a deliberate but gentle silence meant to encourage more.
    A moment or two later, Tiffany continued. “They make me feel less alone. They’re uncomplicated, and unconditional. I can just hold them, and cry, or laugh, or even be still. They simply tuck in and offer companionship. They let me be who and what I am and they don’t judge or push or pressure when I’m fragile. They just…are. I suppose that’s what’s motivated me to want to deliver that kind of healing to others as they go through counseling. No matter what the trauma, kindness and bonding can beget kindness and bonding.”
    The words reached deep, but Mitch still sensed there was more to her story. Picturing Tiffany inhabiting a time and place where the means of such comfort proved necessary unsettled him. “I’m sorry.”
    She unfolded a linen napkin