Cecelia Ahern - The Gift

His face, however, didn’t reflect all this. Gone was the look of warm contentment from that morning. His blue eyes were colder as they followed Lou’s shoes from the revolving doors all the way to the edge of his blanket.

As Gabe watched the shoes, he was imagining them to be the feet of a local man working at the beach he was currently lounging on. The local was approaching him with a cocktail balanced dangerously in the center of a tray, the tray held out high and away from his body like the arms of a candelabra. Gabe had ordered this drink quite some time ago, but he’d allowed the man this small delay. It was a hotter day than usual. The sand was crammed with glistening, coconut-scented bodies, and the muggy air was slowing everybody down. The flip-flop-clad feet that approached him now sprayed him with grains of sand with each step. As they neared him, the grains became splashes of raindrops, and the flip-flops became a familiar pair of shiny shoes. Gabe looked up, hoping to see a multicolored cocktail filled with fruit and tiny paper umbrellas on a tray. Instead, he saw Lou, with a pile of clothes over his arm, and it took him a moment to adjust once again to the cold, the noise of the traffic, and the hustle and bustle that had replaced his tropical paradise.

Lou also didn’t look like he had this morning. His hair had lost its Cary Grant — like sheen and neatly combed forelock, and his shoulders appeared to be covered in dandruff as the drops falling from the sky nested in his expensive suit, leaving dark patches on the fabric. He was uncharacteristically windswept, and his usually relaxed shoulders were instead hunched high in an effort to shield his ears from the cold. His body trembled, missing his cashmere coat like a sheep who’d just been sheared and now stood knobbly-kneed and naked.

“You want a job?” Lou asked confidently, but it came out quiet and meek, as half his volume was taken away by the wind.

Gabe simply smiled. “You’re sure?”

Confused by his reaction, Lou nodded. He wasn’t expecting a hug and a kiss, but his offer seemed almost expected. This he didn’t like. He was more atuned to a song and a dance, an ooh and an aah, a thank-you and a declaration of indebtedness. But he didn’t get this from Gabe. What he did get was a quiet smile, and, after Gabe had thrown off the blanket from his body and raised himself to his full height, a firm, thankful — and, in spite of the temperature, surprisingly warm — handshake. It was as though they were already sealing a deal Lou couldn’t recall negotiating.

Standing at exactly the same height, they gazed directly into each other’s blue eyes, Gabe’s from under the hood that was pulled down low over his eyes, monk-like, boring into Lou’s with such intensity that Lou had to blink and look away. At the same time, a doubt entered Lou’s mind, now that the mere thought of a good deed was becoming a reality. The doubt came breezing through like a stubborn guest through a hotel lobby with no reservation, and Lou stood there, confused at what to do next. Where to put this doubt. Keep it or turn it away. He had many questions to ask Gabe, many questions he probably should have asked before offering the job, but there was only one that he needed to ask right then.

“Can I trust you?” Lou asked.

He had wanted to be convinced, for his mind to be put at ease, but he did not count on receiving the kind of response he was about to hear.

Gabe barely blinked. “With your life.”

The Presidential Suite for the gentleman and his word.

GABE AND LOU LEFT THE icy air outside and entered the warmth of the marble lobby. Suddenly surrounded by walls, floors, and pillars of granite covered by swirls of creams, caramels, and Cadbury-chocolate colors, Gabe was tempted to lick the surfaces. He had known he was cold, but until he felt this warmth he’d had no idea just how cold.

Lou felt all eyes on him as he led the rugged-looking man through reception and into the men’s room on the ground floor. Not quite sure why, Lou took it upon himself to check each toilet cubicle before talking.

“Here, I brought you these.” Lou handed Gabe the pile of clothes, which were slightly damp now. “You can keep them.”

He turned to face the mirror to comb his hair back into its perfect position, wiped away the raindrops from his shoulders, and tried his best to return to normality — physically and mentally — as Gabe slowly sifted through the pile. Gray Gucci trousers, a white shirt, a gray-and-white-striped tie. He fingered them all delicately, as though a single touch would reduce them to shreds.

After Gabe discarded his blanket in the sink and went into one of the stalls to dress, Lou paced up and down past the urinals, responding to phone calls and e-mails on his BlackBerry. He was so busy with his work that when he looked up at one point, he didn’t recognize the man standing before him and returned his attention to his device. But then he slowly reared his head again, realizing with a start that it was Gabe.

The only thing that showed this was the same man was the dirty pair of Doc Martens beneath the Gucci trousers. Everything else fitted perfectly, and Gabe stood before the mirror, looking himself up and down as though in a trance. The woolen hat that had covered Gabe’s head had been discarded, revealing a thick head of black hair similar to Lou’s, though far more tousled. The warmth had replaced the coldness in his body, making his lips full and red and his cheeks nicely rosy instead of the frozen, pallid color of before.

Lou didn’t quite know what to say, so, sensing a moment that was far deeper than he was comfortable with, he splashed around in the shallow end instead.

“That stuff you told me about the shoes, earlier?”

Gabe nodded.

“That was good. I wouldn’t mind if you kept your eyes open for more of that kind of thing. Let me know now and then about what you see.”

Gabe nodded.

“Have you somewhere to stay?”

“Yes.” Gabe looked back at his reflection in the mirror. His voice was quiet.

“So you’ve an address to give Harry? He’ll be your boss.”

“You won’t be my boss?”

“No.” Lou took his BlackBerry again and began scrolling for nothing in particular. “No, you’ll be in another…department.”

“Oh, of course.” Gabe straightened up, seeming a little embarrassed for thinking otherwise. “Right. Great. Thanks so much, Lou, really.”

Lou nodded it off, feeling embarrassed, too. “Here.” He handed Gabe his comb from his pocket while looking the other way.

“Thanks.” Gabe took it, held the comb under the tap, and began to shape his messy hair. Then Lou hurried him on and led him back out of the men’s room and through the marble lobby to the elevators.

Gabe offered the comb back to Lou as they walked.

Lou shook his head and waved his hand dismissively looking around to make sure nobody waiting by the elevators had seen the gesture. “Keep it. You have an employer number, social security number, things like that?” he rattled off at Gabe.

Gabe shook his head, looking concerned. His fingers ran up and down the silk tie, as though he was afraid it would run off.

“Don’t worry, we’ll sort that out. Okay,” Lou started to move away as his phone began ringing, “I’d better run.”

“Of course. Thanks again. Where do I go?”

“Down a floor. The mailroom,” he said quickly, before answering his phone.

Gabe looked surprised at first, and then his pleasant face returned, and he smiled at Lou.

Lou knew that offering Gabe a job was a great gesture and that there was nothing wrong with the mailroom, but somehow he felt that it wasn’t enough, that the young man standing before him was not only capable but expectant of much more. There was no reasonable explanation for why on Earth he felt this — Gabe was as warm, friendly, and appreciative as he had been the very first moment Lou had met him — but there was something about the way he looked, standing there. There was just…something.