It had taken considerable juggling of their diaries and at eight o’clock in the morning there was a stiff chilly breeze at the top of the Empire State Building but it was so worth it, even if Paul had surreptitiously checked his watch for the second time in half an hour.
‘Thanks for this,’ Sophie beamed at him. ‘It really does live up to all the hype.’ Should she admit she’d watched Sleepless in Seattle five times and the scene located up here was one of her all-time favourites? The early morning sunshine turned the city into a dappled collage of light and shade, with diamond twinkles reflected from the sharp columns of glass and steel, and her gaze darted this way and that trying to take in the enormity of the view.
‘My pleasure, and it was worth getting up early to see that smile. And now I’m really sorry I’d arranged to play squash later this morning.’
‘I hope you don’t lose, after all those stairs.’
Just getting to the top of the building was a marathon. Even at that time of day the queue was already lengthy and they’d opted to duck the final line by walking up the last few flights of the stairs to the top.
‘Wow, everything looks so small,’ said Sophie, peering down and looking at the streets far below and the tiny cars moving along. She laughed as the wind whipped at her hair, plastering the ends of her ponytail over her mouth. ‘I bet everyone says that.’
‘They do,’ said Paul, with a quick smile pushing back unruly blond curls. The fierce breeze had played havoc with his usual neat style and it made him look much younger and, to Sophie’s mind, a lot more attractive. Today was the first time she’d seen him out of his habitual suit. When she met him outside the subway station she almost hadn’t recognised him in his jeans and a leather jacket.
‘I’m sorry, I’m going to talk in tourist clichés because it’s so amazing and you can see so far and it’s all so fascinating. And I sound like a burbling idiot but it’s … I’m on top of the Empire State Building! I’ve always wanted to come here.’
‘Don’t worry. I love listening to your English accent, it sounds so classy. But then you are … what is it in England? Upper class.’
Sophie stiffened. ‘Why do you think that?’
Paul smiled, pushing his hands through his hair again. ‘I’ve met a few English people, none of them speak as much like the Queen as you do.’
‘Oh.’ Sophie relaxed, she was being silly. There was no way that Paul would know about her family background. There were always people who were impressed by a title, which why she was at pains to keep it quiet. ‘Gosh, is that a helicopter?’ She pointed out towards the river, where it flew below, looking more like a toy.
‘Yes, you can do helicopter tours of the city. That’s the helipad right over there on the waterfront.’ He stood behind her and one hand encircling her waist. She leaned back against him, suddenly relishing the feeling of being with someone else again. They stood like that for a few minutes, as Paul pointed out the distant shoreline. ‘That’s the Hudson River. And across on the other shore, New Jersey.’
They walked around each side of the tower, Sophie happily spotting famous landmarks like the Chrysler Building, Bryant Park, the new World Trade Center and musing over the surprising vastness of Central Park, which from this angle disappeared into the hazy horizon. From up here everything looked very angular and square, the towers like building blocks placed along the straight roads that stretched away out of sight, and the buildings dotted with thousands of tiny black-holed windows that reminded her of old-fashioned peg boards. An industrial landscape of sharp edges and straight lines. Exhilarating and exciting to be sure, but it certainly wasn’t pretty.
The more she looked at the city, the smaller she felt. Insignificant and inconsequential. The view emphasised the sheer size of the place, the packed density of people living and working there, and for a moment Sophie felt horribly anonymous and lost. Thank goodness she’d landed in Brooklyn above the warmth and welcome of Bella’s Bakery. If she’d been in the thick of the city, she wasn’t sure she would have survived.
They spent another half an hour circling the observation deck before the wind finally got the better of them and Sophie’s cheeks felt wind burned. Going down was a much quicker process, although the queues coming up had lengthened considerably.
When they exited the art deco hallways, Sophie noticed Paul checking his watch again.
‘What time’s your squash match?’ she asked. This brief Saturday morning slot was the only free time he had this weekend.
‘I’ve got another hour. For you I can squeeze in a coffee.’
‘Are you sure?’
He took her hand. ‘Yeah, I’ve built in plenty of time. There’ll be somewhere around here.’
‘So how often do you play squash? I’ve never played but it always looks very energetic and full of oomph. People play with great gusto.’
‘Can you say that again in English?’ asked Paul, a slight frown on his face.
Sophie smiled at the serious expression. She was learning that he didn’t really do gentle teasing. Best not to mention that she thought squash looked quite an aggressive, angry sort of game. You didn’t smash a ball around like that without a bit of testosterone-fuelled attitude. ‘You know, they put lots of effort in. It looks very hard work.’
‘It’s a good work-out, that’s for sure. I play a couple of times a week and I’m in a couple of different leagues.’
‘Competitive then?’
‘Not really. It’s great networking. Most of the guys I play with work in the media or business. What about you, what sort of sport do food writers do?’
‘Apart from eating, you mean?’ She laughed. ‘We’re very good at that.’
When Paul looked a touch nonplussed, she added, ‘I don’t really have a sport. I’m not very competitive at all, but I run.’
‘Running’s good. You should join a gym. There’s a good one a block down from the office.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind. I’m …’ She was about to mention that Todd had threatened making her go for a run yesterday at work, and then thought better of it. It was the first time she’d seen him since Wednesday night when they’d ended up eating Wendy’s burgers on a park bench.
‘Here we go. This will do. Starbucks.’
Paul stopped outside the doorway and pushed it open for her. Sophie ignored the pang of disappointment. She could go to Starbucks anywhere in the world.
‘I enjoyed the trip this morning. It’s fun playing tourist in your own city. I haven’t been up there in years. We should do it again sometime.’
‘That would be nice.’
‘Have you done Grand Central Station yet?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
‘The Guggenheim? The Met? The High Line?’
Sophie shook her head at each mention.
‘What have you been doing?’ With a shake of his head, he wagged his finger. ‘I admire your work ethic, but you’re working way too hard.’
Sophie let out a delicate snort at his assumption. ‘I’ve been … busy.’ The truth was, she realised with a sudden warm glow, that she felt settled in Brooklyn. The bakery and apartment were comfortable and familiar. Coming out into Manhattan felt like too much effort when she did it every day already.
‘Where is it you live, again?’
‘I share a place in the West Side, pricey but central. It must be a real schlepp for you getting to work.’
‘It’s not too bad and I like where I live. It’s got a nice feel to it.’
Paul winced. ‘Not my scene at all. If you’re not going to be in the city, you want to move out proper to one of the nice suburbs with decent housing and a garden. That’s what my folks did. They’ve got a place in Kensington. It’s an hour out of the city.’
‘How funny. I live in Kensington, London. I suspect it’s very different.’
‘There is a link. When Kensington, Great Neck was built the gates were copied from the ones at Kensington Park in London and the village was named after the gates.’
‘Now that is spooky. I run in Kensington Gardens sometimes. I know the gates. I’ve got to see the ones here. Take a picture.’
‘Yeah.’ Paul looked awkward. ‘I don’t get out there too often.’
‘No, no,’ Sophie shook her head vehemently. ‘I wasn’t inviting myself to meet your parents.’
He toyed with the cardboard sleeve on his coffee cup. ‘It’s cool. I didn’t think you were. It’s fine. I guess I could take you sometime, if you wanted to see the gates. I’m going up …’ He winced. ‘Fourth of July. You’ve probably got plans already.’
‘To be honest, I hadn’t thought about it. I guess I hadn’t realised until last week at work what a big deal it is.’ She took a long slurp of coffee, remembering Madison’s endless bragging about her family’s place in Southampton, which was, according to the smart young intern, the place to be during the summer.
‘Oh,’ his dismay was palpable.
‘Honestly Paul, it’s fine. I’m not going to crash a family party. I know it’s a big deal over here but it’s not to me.’
‘No … you’d be welcome. It’s … well. It’s complicated.’
‘Paul, it’s fine.’
‘Now I feel bad. What will you do?’
‘Probably nothing, but it’s not a problem.’
‘You’ve got to do something.’ He frowned. ‘You can’t spend the holiday on your own.’ Rubbing at his forehead, he seemed, for Paul, quite agitated. ‘I suppose I could invite you to my folks.’ He sighed and drained his coffee and fiddled with the empty cup, circling it on the table.
Sophie smiled, he looked so excruciatingly uncomfortable. It was kind of sweet that he was worried about her being alone for the holiday. ‘Don’t worry. I understand. My mum and dad are the same whenever I take someone home. Dad’s a terror, only a hair’s breadth from asking what someone’s intentions are.’ A lump settled in her throat. Actually, she’d only taken James. Just the once. They’d both really liked him.
‘Phew, I’m glad you get it.’ His eyes swivelled her way again. ‘I have to be careful. It’s not just my parents. There’s Pamela too.’
‘Pamela?’
‘Yeah,’ he laughed, finally bringing his gaze back to her with a candid snap. ‘The girl next door. She’s … well, one day we’ll … you know.’
Sophie felt as if she’d been thumped in the stomach.
‘When you’ve achieved your seven-year plan,’ prompted Sophie, her mouth as dry as the Sahara.
‘Not necessarily. That’s what I love about you Sophie, you are the perfect girl. You really get me. I mean, I really, really like you but the future’s a bit grey. But in four months’ time, who knows what will happen? Things might have changed. London’s not that far away.’
‘And if they don’t, there’s always good old Pamela.’ It was unlike Sophie to take refuge in sarcasm, and she could see Paul trying to work out whether she was being serious or not.
‘Like I said, who knows what the future will bring?’
‘Who indeed?’