Читать книгу The Little Brooklyn Bakery: A heartwarming feel good novel full of cakes and romance! - Julie Caplin - Страница 11

‘Hey English,’ said Todd, immediately stepping forward and relieving her of the first box of cupcakes. He had that healthy, wholesome glow of a character from a TV ad, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, in a crisp white cotton button-down-collar shirt and denim shorts which showed off perfectly even-tanned legs.

She wasn’t sure why she had, but thank goodness she’d washed her hair, blow dried it into soft curls for a change and put on some make-up. She didn’t feel like a bag lady next to him. Even better that she’d put on her favourite cobalt-blue linen shirt that did wonders for her eyes and cut-off shorts that showed off her legs, which apart from her hair (on the days like today, when it behaved itself) were definitely her best attribute.

Not that, scrubbed up, she came anywhere close to matching his golden beauty. No wonder he had a harem of women panting down the phone to speak to him.

‘Morning Todd.’ She was deliberately brisk. The stupid sudden fluttering in her chest could just back off. Hormones had a lot to answer for. That must be it. Normal healthy response. She was not the sort of girl who had crushes. She was far too sensible, and after James, a relationship-free bastion of singledom.

‘How many boxes have we got?’ He grinned, eyes twinkly and direct. The flutter intensified and she had to suck in an extra breath.

‘J-just another two.’ She shot him a perfunctory, polite, see-your-thousand-watt-charisma-has-no-effect smile in response.

‘Cool.’ His grin didn’t so much as dim. ‘My car’s in a no-waiting area around the corner. You can’t miss it.’ He was already heading off down the street, calling over his shoulder. ‘I’ll take these if you can bring the others.’

She took a steadying breath, watching him as he strode off. God, he had a nice backside. Broad shoulders, tapering down to a trim waist and that … yeah, that backside. What the hell was wrong with her? Objectifying the poor man. She gave herself a stern mental shake.

She marched back into the kitchen to grab the last two boxes.

‘Here’s the receipt. You need to give it to the customer. They’ve already paid. Good luck and don’t take any risks. Make sure Todd drives like an old lady. I feel this batch is jinxed.’

‘Bella, don’t worry. I’ll guard them with my life.’ They exchanged knowing smiles. They’d finally finished very late the night before.

Carrying the two boxes, she rounded the corner and nearly stopped dead. Todd was right, you couldn’t miss his car. So much for the assumption he’d be a BMW or Mercedes type of man. She had to slow her steps down, while she schooled her face. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings but it took a second or two to mask her surprise. This car was a mess, without doubt the scruffiest, tattiest thing she’d ever seen. And so not Todd, who usually rocked the preppy look with his crisp chino shorts and perfectly pressed linen shirts. The ancient Golf had a huge dent in the driver’s door, the bumper at the back was missing and the panel of the rear door was bright blue, in ugly contrast to the dark racing-green paintwork of the rest of the car. As she neared she could see that the paintwork on the bonnet had bubbled with pale craters, looking like skin peeling after a nasty case of sunburn.

‘Interesting car,’ she said straight faced, handing the boxes over to him. Despite the distraction of the car, she was still unable to stop herself ogling his pert bottom as he leant into the rear seat to stow them next to the others.

When he turned back to her his face danced with mischievous wickedness. ‘Pisses the hell out of my dad when I go home and park it on the drive. Lowers the tone of the neighbourhood.’

She laughed. ‘I bet it does. I don’t want to be rude, but this would lower the tone of a rubbish tip.’ She shot the wheels a dubious look. ‘Does it actually work or is it like Fred Flintstone’s car and we have to run?’

‘I’ll have you know, Gertie …’ he paused and patted the car door, ‘is a loyal if occasionally temperamental old girl. She doesn’t like winter mornings, but then who does?’

‘As long as she starts today and gets these cakes to … wherever we’re going, I don’t mind. Bella is counting on us.’

Suddenly serious, Todd straightened up and pulled his keys out of his pocket. ‘I wouldn’t let Bella down.’ Then his face lightened and with his usual engaging grin, he said, holding out his hand, ‘Come on, strap yourself in and prepare yourself for the ride of your life.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ she said primly, her eyes twinkling as she pressed her lips together, trying not to smile back at him. He was totally incorrigible. ‘I’m grateful no one round here knows me.’

He slapped a hand to his chest. ‘Shsh! You’ll upset her.’

Sophie climbed into the back seat next to the boxes.

From the driver’s seat, he handed his phone back to her. ‘Here, you’ll need to navigate. The sound doesn’t work when it’s charging and it’s low on battery at the moment. I know my way until we cross Fulton Street and then I’ll need directions.’

The car coughed to life with a roar and a bit of splutter but Todd looked unconcerned as they pulled out onto the one-way street, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time to the music blaring out from the radio. Interestingly, Sophie noticed as she looked at the floor and the back seat, the inside of the car was absolutely pristine.

‘Take the next right here,’ said Sophie, holding Todd’s iPhone in one hand, while the other kept a gentle guard on the boxes of cupcakes to keep them from sliding around the back of the car. ‘We must be nearly there … Yes,’ she checked the screen, ‘up this street and then second on the right.’

‘Two blocks, English,’ corrected Todd, catching her eye in the mirror with his usual sunny smile. ‘We’ll make an American of you yet.’

‘You can try but I come from a long line of very English English-folk.’ As evidenced in the heavy leather-bound Bible in the library which traced the family tree right back to the court of Charles II.

‘Challenge accepted,’ said Todd.

‘What? That wasn’t a challenge, just an observation.’ Sophie rolled her eyes at him in the mirror but of course received his usual grin.

Todd’s battered car turned the final corner, into a street of brownstones.

‘It’s nice round here.’

‘Up and coming. They film The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt here. And a couple of other things.’

‘I’ve heard of it, but not seen it.’

‘Big hit. Funny.’

Sophie resolved to check it out on Netflix. That would give her something to watch this week.

With the cakes safely delivered, she hopped into the front seat of the car for the return trip.

‘Have you had breakfast?’ asked Todd.

‘No, it was too early and now it’s too late.’

‘Welcome to New York, it’s never too late for brunch, unless you’ve got plans.’

Sophie hesitated for a second, remembering her conversation with Kate the previous evening. A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought twice, in fact she’d probably have already suggested a coffee or breakfast.

‘No, no plans. Brunch would be … great. If you’ve got time.’ It would be a fabulous way of killing a few hours and would make her feel that she was at least starting to make an effort to get out and about.

With a rueful grimace, she realised that actually not much had changed. In London, she’d spent a lot of hours at the weekends killing time. Large chunks of her life had been held in abeyance while she waited for James to be around. It made her cross to realise how much time she’d wasted. On weekday evenings she’d been desperate to savour every precious moment of his company, so they’d stayed in the flat. Of course, now it made complete sense. It had lessened the chance of discovery, bumping into someone who might know him. Missed trips to the theatre, to exhibitions, to new restaurants. Not going to Kew Gardens at Christmas, not going to Notting Hill Carnival, not going to Proms in the Park.

And now she was in danger of repeating the same mistake here. Of staying indoors. Not venturing out on her own.

‘For you, I’ve got all the time in the world.’

Sophie rolled her eyes again. ‘Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls.’

‘Of course I do.’ He flashed her an irrepressible grin. ‘There’s a great place near Bella’s. Café Luluc. It will be ridiculously busy, but worth it. A Mexican family runs it. They do fantastic brunch. I can go get rid of the car, if you don’t mind waiting in line.’

‘You mean queuing,’ Sophie’s repressive tone was tempered with a wry smile.

‘You queue, I’ll wait in line.’ He winked at her.

‘Go on, then.’ She couldn’t help smile back at him, his easy-going cheerful attitude was infectious.

Standing in the sunshine, watching everyone on Smith Street, was no hardship. Todd had told her he’d be a while, as despite his resident’s permit, it could be tricky finding a parking space. She didn’t mind the wait; it was fun people watching, especially in a different city. Why hadn’t she done this before?

Experience told her that a queue this long meant that the food would be worth every minute. It also gave her plenty of time to give the menu a thorough examination. Her passion for food and English collided in happy accident, after she spectacularly failed her A levels. Deciding to take a year out, she got a part-time job in admin at the local paper and a waitressing job in a newly opened gastro-pub in the village. The food at The White Hare in Haresfoot was some of the best she’d ever tasted and when she wrote a review and showed it to George, the editor of the paper, he promptly published it and gave her a job writing a food column.

‘What’s with the frown?’ asked Todd when he finally joined her in the queue.

‘It’s so hard, I can’t decide whether to have the eggs Florentine or the brioche French toast with apple compote. Or maybe I should try the omelette with wild mushrooms and Asiago cheese. I’ve no idea what Asiago cheese is.’

‘So why would you try it?’

Sophie took off her sunglasses and gave him her best schoolteacher reproving stare. ‘It’s important for your food education.’

‘Right.’ Todd nodded, for once trying to keep the smile from his face.

‘I’m serious. You should never stop trying new things. You might miss out on something amazing.’

‘I’ll take your word for it. So how did you get into the whole food-writing thing?’

By the time Sophie had told him the full story, they were ushered to a booth at the back of the restaurant and sat down on red vinyl seats at a white-clothed table. When the couple sitting next to them had their food served, Sophie couldn’t help leaning over and asking what they’d ordered.

They responded with instant open friendliness and enthusiasm that made her doubly ashamed that this was her first proper weekend outing since she’d been here.

‘Now I’m even more undecided,’ she confided to Todd, sneaking another look at their neighbours’ eggs Benedict. ‘They look yummy.’ She strained her neck, watching a waiter taking out three plates to a table near the front of the restaurant. ‘Everything looks divine.’

‘Close your eyes and stick a finger on the menu,’ suggested Todd, leaning back against the seat, his arm lazily topping the booth.

Sophie drew herself up and, widening her eyes, gave a mock outraged gasp, ‘I couldn’t possibly do that.’

He laughed. ‘I knew that. Crunch time. The waiter is heading this way and I am starving, so you’re going to have to make your choice.’ He leaned forward with mock threat. ‘And I will order without you.’

‘Oh.’

She huffed and puffed as the waiter patiently stood with his notepad exchanging looks with Todd.

‘I’ll have the brioche French … oh, actually, can you tell me what Asiago cheese is?’

‘It’s a nutty, firm cheese, not as strong or dry as parmesan or pecorino but very similar.’

‘Right …’ she pulled a face and turned to Todd. ‘That makes it even harder.’

Todd rolled his eyes and turned to the waiter. ‘She’ll have the brioche French toast with apple compote and I’ll have the wild mushroom and Asiago cheese omelette.’ He turned back to her with a quick aside, ‘You can share mine,’ before also ordering coffee and orange juice.

‘Tea for me, please.’

Scribbling on his pad as he went, the waiter scooted off.

‘You didn’t have to do that. Now I feel guilty.’

‘Well don’t. I’ve eaten here plenty of times. I like omelette and for my food education, I thought I’d try the cheese. And you can try both.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Kind is my middle name,’ said Todd airily.

Sophie studied him from under her lashes. With some people kindness could be quite self-serving, almost calculated. Todd’s came naturally.

‘So how are you finding New York?’

She shrugged. Evasive, her eyes studying the ornate plasterwork on the ceiling. ‘I’ve only been here two weeks. And most of the time I’ve been at work.’

Scepticism flared in his eyes, when she brought her gaze back to eye level.

Defensive now, she fingered some stray salt grains on the table. ‘There’s plenty of time. I’m here for six months.’

The raised eyebrow had her digging in deeper. ‘There’s no hurry. Everything will still be there tomorrow and every day after that.’

‘Yeah, but it’s New York. The city that never sleeps, remember? You must have been downtown at lunchtimes.’

‘Erm … not really.’

‘What?’ He gave a suspicious look.

‘I tend to grab a coffee and …’ she shrugged. She’d got into a routine of popping down to the coffee shop in the atrium to grab a drink, sitting people watching, pretending she was engrossed in Facebook or something on her phone.

‘You should try to get out. Central Park is less than a block away.’

‘I … guess. It’s just … quite.’ She hated sounding so defensive. ‘Gosh, sorry, I’m not normally this pathetic. I didn’t want to … I mean, I wasn’t expecting to come and I had to turn everything around quite quickly, and it’s all been …’

‘Overwhelming?’ he asked softly.

She shot him a grateful look. ‘Yes. I feel like I’ve been pitched in at the deep end where everyone else is travelling at warp speed and I’m in the slow lane.’

‘You’ll get the hang of it. There’s nowhere quite like it. But it’s easy to be lonely here. Become anonymous.’

‘It is in any big city.’

‘True. So why didn’t you want to come here? The Big Apple. Everyone wants to come to New York.’ He lifted both arms up with a quick, mocking jazz hands.

She shot him a sharp look, surprised by his unexpected insight.

‘How did you know?’

‘I’m not just a pretty face, you know. I listen. You were going to say you didn’t want to come.’

She winced. She was too ashamed to tell him the whole story.

‘I was quite happy. Then I split up with my boyfriend and I thought, why the hell not?’

Todd raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘How long had you been with him?’

‘Two years.’

‘Two years! Get out of here. That’s longer than some marriages last.’ He paused before asking quietly, ‘And is it permanent? No chance of getting back together? Or is this a way of showing him what he’s missing? Is he likely to come chasing after you, with a ring box?’

She shot him a withering look, disappointed by his cynicism.

‘Oh this is permanent, alright.’ The circling bitterness, which she normally kept in check, burst out. ‘As permanent as possible.’

‘Funny how love turns to hate so easily.’ Todd didn’t sound the least bit amused, his voice was tinged with weary disillusion. ‘Or rather it’s not funny at all. It seems to happen with remarkable ease.’

Sophie swallowed hard. ‘And sometimes it doesn’t.’

She wanted to wake up and find out it had all been a huge mistake and that the James married to Anna was in fact a different James Soames. Unfortunately, Anna had brought two photos with her that day. The sight of James in a morning suit next to his glowing bride and the look of tenderness on his face as he gazed at a new-born Emma had physically hurt. The intense pain in her chest had robbed her of breath.

‘I find it interesting that there is such a fine line. How does a couple go from being not able to live without each other, to arguing over who gets the toaster?’

‘We weren’t arguing about toasters.’ Sophie swallowed hard. ‘We never argued. Which just goes to show. Love is blind.’ In hindsight, she’d been blind, deaf and dumb. There’d been clues aplenty.

‘I never got that phrase. Love is blind. Is it? When you’re “in love”’ – those horrid quote marks with his fingers told her exactly what he thought – ‘don’t you examine every little thing they do? Analyse everything they say. Dissect the meaning of every last word and phrase. I suspect you can be blinded by love, although it’s probably lust. Dazzled by sexual attraction.’

‘So, you don’t believe in love?’

Todd snorted. ‘It’s an idea, a social concept, if you will.’ She heard the New Yorker in his voice, and it was almost as if a different person were speaking. ‘Songs, books, they all talk about being love. I get that you can care about someone. You can be in a mutually respectful relationship. You can promise to be faithful … but at the end of the day, humans are intrinsically selfish and self-seeking. We look out for number one. That ideal of love being all-encompassing, hearts and flowers, self-sacrificing, that’s fiction. Your books and songs.’

‘Wow.’ Sophie paused as she sieved the words one by one through her filter of despair and betrayal, and found to her relief that despite what she’d been through she was still able to say, ‘That’s quite depressing.’ She smiled, as a little bit of the iceberg of pain lodged firmly in her heart, melted. ‘Despite everything with J—’ she refused to say his name out loud, give him any more room in her life, ‘I still believe that one day, I’ll find love with someone else.’

‘So in the meantime, you’re in … what, in an emotional holding bay, that just happens to be New York?’

Sophie wriggled uncomfortably in her seat, stung by his rather accurate summation. ‘Something like that.’

‘That’s a terrible waste of living.’

‘What?’

‘This is one of the greatest cities on earth. Brooklyn is one of the best neighbourhoods to live in. Six months. You can only scratch the surface. You should be making the most of every last damn second.

‘You should check some places out. Prospect Park. DeKalb Market Hall, north of Fulton Street. About three blocks over. I’ve heard it’s a real foodie haven. There’s a great flea market up at Kent Avenue. What are you doing next weekend?’

‘I …’ she lifted her shoulders.

‘Aside from chores?’ pressed Todd.

‘I’ve got to do my washing sometime.’

‘Babe, we’ve had the washing talk already. Your laundry isn’t going to take all day. You need to get out there. Although you can still cook me dinner.’ He cocked his head with a hopeful look that had Sophie laughing.

‘Great. It won’t stop you doing my wash— laundry, although I’m not sure I want you handling my underwear.’ She was surprised that there was no washing machine in the apartment. She’d rinsed a few things through by hand.

‘I’m pretty good at handling underwear.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’ll pass though.’

‘English, a tip. There’s a service laundromat on Hoyt Street. Five bucks for a load. Washed, dried and folded.’

‘That’s good to know. I’d never have thought of that.’ She sat up straighter, brightened at the prospect. ‘I am so going to do that this afternoon.’

‘Welcome to America.’