The phone on Todd’s desk rang and Sophie reached over to pick it up realising, as she did, that none of the harem had phoned in the last two weeks. No word from Amy or Charlene.
‘Hello.’
There was silence before a young, panicky voice asked, ‘Can I speak to Todd McLennan? I think … he works there.’
‘Marty?’
‘Yes,’ the voice squeaked.
‘It’s Sophie. He’s not here at the moment, but I know he’ll want to speak to you.’
‘When is he back? I’ve only got a minute but I really need to speak to him.’
‘He’s at a press launch, he’s not going to be back until after lunch. Have you got his mobile number?’
‘No, I … I’ve … erm … borrowed someone’s cell phone.’ The diffidence suggested that the term borrowed might be relative.
‘Have you got a pen? I’ll give it to you.’
‘Er, hang on.’ There were sounds of drawers being opened and shut. ‘Got one.’
Sophie reeled off the number from her own phone. ‘Are you OK? Can he call you back on this number?’
‘Not exactly. I’m in one of the offices. It took me ages to find Todd’s work number. I’ll probably get court martialled if I get caught in here,’ Marty muttered, clearly not wanting to be overheard.
‘Where are you? Are you OK?’
‘I am OK,’ Marty sounded surprised. ‘It’s not too bad. I was homesick the first week, but some of the other guys are cool. We get to do PT every day. It’s kind of strict but I don’t mind that. You know where you are with everything. Yeah, I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. But I don’t have my laptop or phone. Dad took them, told me they weren’t allowed, but they are. I wanted Todd … to get them for me.’
Sophie almost laughed at his teenage self-absorption. Poor Todd had been worried sick about his brother over the last two weeks and Marty’s greatest concern was not being online. Although it was probably a good thing. Todd would be relieved to hear that Marty was OK and not desperately unhappy.
‘If you don’t speak to him, I’ll tell him you called. Give me your address?’
She wrote it down quickly before he hung up. Hopefully he’d have time to call Todd before he got caught. What a relief, she couldn’t wait to speak to Todd, but she’d leave it a few minutes before she called him, to let Marty get through.
As it happened, she was called into a meeting with Trudy before she could speak to Todd and when she tried to phone him, his cell went straight to voicemail. She left a message, hoping that he’d pick it up soon, as she wouldn’t be seeing him until later. They were double dating – Todd’s terminology – meeting up with Wes and Bella, who were on date number four and taking things slowly.
‘Sophie, I wanted to catch up with you.’ Trudy sat behind her desk. ‘How are you enjoying your time with us?’
‘It’s great,’ said Sophie with enthusiasm. ‘I’m loving working on my new feature.’ She’d been so inspired by Mario and the stories he’d shared about his family setting up the restaurant and their original Tuscan roots that she’d suggested a regular feature for the magazine, each month focusing on a different ethnic culture, exploring the dishes and the restaurants in the city. ‘I knew New York was diverse, but there’s so much material. I’ve found this amazing Ethiopian place in Harlem that I’m thinking about featuring for the March issue. And then there’s a really interesting Portuguese place, with nata to die for.’
‘Fantastic. The feature you’ve done on the Italian family for the February issue looks wonderful. You’ve got a real flair for bringing food to life. One of the best food writers we’ve had working here. I’m going to come right out with it. Would you consider staying?’
Sophie’s mouth literally dropped open.
‘We can extend your working visa. I’d really like to keep you. Reader feedback on your English afternoon tea feature has been through the roof. The chief editorial director loved it and so did the advertising director. You’re a seriously talented writer. It’s a godsend having someone who knows food the way you do. Please say you’ll consider it.’
‘I … I don’t know what to say. It never occurred to me that I might stay.’
‘Say you’ll think about it,’ urged Trudy, echoing Angela’s words all those months ago.
She thought about it all the way back to Brooklyn on the subway. Thought about it until her head spun. Todd. Bella. London. Her friends back home. Todd. What would he say? Since that night when she’d told him she loved him, there’d been tiny, almost infinitesimal changes. Somehow, he seemed softer. More tender. His touches more frequent and more intimate. The way he touched her face when he kissed her. The way he took her to bed with careful consideration. Some days she wondered if maybe he did love her just a little. They never talked about the future or referred to anything beyond the end of October which was when she was due to leave. Could she stay? How would he react to her staying?
When she arrived at the bar, he was already there, and as soon as he saw her he hailed a waiter to order a white wine. ‘Hey English,’ he brushed her mouth with a teasing kiss, while sliding his hand under her hair to stroke the back of her neck. ‘How was your day?’
‘Interesting,’ she replied. ‘Did you get my message?’
‘No, I forgot to charge my cell this morning. I got distracted, if you will recall.’ His direct stare made her blush.
‘That wasn’t my fault. I was cleaning my teeth.’ Her legs turned to jelly at the memory of his naked body sliding up against hers early that morning. His hands cupping her breasts and his hungry expression staring back at her in the mirror.
‘There’s cleaning your teeth and cleaning your teeth, English,’ he growled.
‘How do I clean my teeth?’ she asked, amused.
‘Sexily,’ said Todd.
She rolled her eyes and then remembered. ‘Marty called.’
‘Marty!’ He immediately tensed, his fingers gripping his beer bottle so hard the tendons stood out white against his tanned skin.
She laid a hand over his wrist. ‘He’s OK.’
Quickly, she relayed the conversation, watching the tension leach out of his fingers.
‘Thank goodness for that. I guess the discipline might do him good.’ Draining his beer, he let out a half-laugh. ‘Typical that what drives him to get in touch is wanting his computer. Maybe we could catch a flight down to Charleston this weekend. Go see the boy.’ Eagerly, he pulled out his phone and then his face fell, as he remembered it was dead. ‘I can sort out a laptop and a phone for him. Let’s hope the Pentagon firewalls are Marty-proof.’ With a thoughtful sigh, he shook his head. ‘Maybe I should warn them.’
‘I think you should go on your own,’ said Sophie with a gentle smile. ‘You probably want some time together. He needs to know that you’re there for him.’
‘Yes, but he likes you.’
‘He needs stability in his life,’ Sophie reminded him.
For a moment Todd looked blankly at her. ‘You’re pretty stable.’
‘Exactly.’ She wanted to shake him for being so damn obtuse.
‘So why can’t you come? Marty would love to see you. We could get a nice hotel, fix up a whole weekend. Take him out for a burger, we’d have a nice meal.’
‘Todd, if I come with you, what sort of signal is that going to send to Marty? What happens when next time you see him and he asks where I am?’
Todd picked at the label on his beer bottle, reminding her of Marty, mutinous and wary.
The awkward silence stretched out between them and as Sophie reached out to take his hand, he jumped up waving. ‘Hey Bella, Wes.’
Sophie turned to see the other couple weaving their way through the busy tables, Bella in front, her hand clasped in Wes’s.
This was the second time they’d been out as a foursome. Sophie had got to know Wes a little more and his quiet dry humour was a good foil for Bella’s boisterous directness. Although completely different, they suited. Bella seemed a lot less frenetic in his company.
‘I delivered the wedding cake to the interior-design bride today,’ she said proudly.
‘You delivered?’ Wes’s deep tone grumbled. ‘I coulda sworn I put a big white cake box in the front seat of my van, with you flapping around like mama hen, convinced I was going to back end someone. She made me put the belt round it with two pillows.’
‘I meant delivered as in completed,’ said Bella, ‘and there was no way I’d have trusted the darned thing with anyone else, so consider yourself honoured.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Wes, saluting her.
‘And does she love it?’ asked Sophie, eager to hear, as Bella had given her free rein over the final design. It had taken them a whole day to put the finishing touches to the three-tiered cake, but once it was assembled, both Sophie and Bella had hugged each other with excitement. Each layer featured a different co-ordinating wallpaper in shades of purple, lilac, silver and white, the patterns picked out with three different icing techniques. It was quite simply a triumph.
‘When I called her on her cell, she cried. She loves it. I really regret not being there to see her face when she saw it.’
Todd attempted to exchange a wry look with Wes.
‘Hey man, don’t include me.’ Wes held up his hands in surrender. ‘I saw the bride’s face, when she opened the box. Damn near brought a tear to my eye.’
‘It’s a cake,’ said Todd, genuine bewilderment on his face.
‘It’s a symbol,’ Bella sighed. ‘You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, do you?’ She curled her lip at her cousin.
‘I can be romantic,’ said Todd, folding his arms. ‘Just not stupid. It’s all part of the illusion. The cake. The dress. But when it comes to the vows, they mean Jack shit a few months down the line. The whole wedding probably makes things worse. Spending all that money, focusing on the crappy details, how much you’re going to impress the audience, because that’s what it is, one big show. And that’s been my parents’ marriage from the start, except theirs has been the biggest and the best. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mom’s dress would have been the most expensive, the flowers the most extravagant and no doubt their cake would have been thirty darn tiers high. Tell me how that’s a symbol of anything, but look at us, look at us.’
Bella raised sceptical eyebrows and put her hands on her hips. ‘I declare, you have no soul, Todd McLennan. Not one shred of humanity. The cake is the centrepiece of the wedding. The design can symbolise so much. Sophie is amazing at picking up what the bride really wants. She has romance in her soul.’
Under the table Sophie kicked Bella, sure that he didn’t want to know about it.
‘Cutting the cake is the first joint act a couple do together once they’re married. It’s a symbol of their unity. Of doing things as a team. Their future together. And that future includes their family as they share the cake among their guests. Feeding their loved ones. Embracing the wider family. There’s so much loveliness about it. It’s not just cake,’ snapped Bella.
‘What she said,’ added Wes.
Todd looked to Sophie as if for support. ‘It’s part of the trappings of the day.’
‘I’m with them. Sorry, I think a wedding cake is a lovely tradition.’
‘At least they taste good,’ conceded Todd rather grumpily, looking at Sophie from under his lashes.
‘Outnumbered, Mr Grinch,’ she said, kissing him cheerfully on the cheek. ‘And what’s this about being romantic? I missed that.’ Her eyes twinkled at him. He might not do romance, but he certainly knew how to make her body sing.
‘I don’t do hearts and flowers or the diamonds and pearls. That’s easy stuff. Anybody can do that. Had a row? How bad was it? Worth one or two carats? Broken a date because you’ve been offered a day’s golf at Pebble Beach, that’s OK, an outsize bouquet of twelve dozen roses will fix that.’
‘Anybody’ being his dad, Sophie guessed, thinking of Celine’s tennis bracelet and diamond earrings.
‘You can be romantic without spending money,’ said Bella, with a dreamy wistful smile that really wasn’t her at all. ‘Someone leaving lavender under your pillow because you couldn’t sleep, well … that’s romantic.’
Wes ducked his head. Todd shot him an irritated look as if he’d let the side down somehow.
‘Suddenly you’re an expert, are you Bella?’ Todd’s voice held a low angry hum. ‘You’ve wilted about for the last year, waiting for Wes to take notice. Moaning and not doing anything about it. Now, suddenly you know it all.’
‘Todd!’ Sophie nudged him, startled by his vehemence. He had the grace to send her an apologetic look although it didn’t extend to his cousin.
Wes picked up two menus from the centre of the table and handed one over to Todd. ‘Man, I think we could use a little food. You two are mighty testy.’ He winked at Sophie. ‘Not kissing cousins then.’
‘Lord, no,’ scowled Bella and then her face brightened. ‘Although Todd was always very keen to make my Barbies kiss. What was it you used to say, “smoochy, smoochy” and rub their faces together.’
‘I was seven.’ Todd groaned and then he grinned. ‘And when you were seven, you spent a whole summer running around in your panties and Wonder Woman sparkly red boots, refusing to get dressed.’
Bella giggled. ‘I’d forgotten about that. I chased you with my special lasso.’
Sophie heaved an internal sigh of relief, sharing a small smile with Wes, as the two of them expounded on their youthful tormenting of each other.
Bella caught her in the restroom as Sophie was washing her hands.
‘You OK?’ she asked.
‘Yes, why?’ asked Sophie, sensing Bella had something on her mind.
‘I … you know … Todd’s attitude. I was worried about you. You’re the traditional type. I know you are from what you’ve said about wanting to marry James. You get the whole wedding cake, romance, happy-ever-after schtick.
‘Must be hard, that’s all. I guess now I’m finally with Wes, I want everyone else to be madly in love. I want you to have that … you know … that you’re-the-centre-of-someone’s-universe feeling. You were so sad when you first arrived here. I wish I’d warned you off Todd more.’
‘Bella, you warned me plenty of times.’ Sophie sighed, she just hadn’t paid any attention. Falling fathoms deep in love with Todd had never been her intention, but he had been nothing but honest with her. From day one he’d been clear he wasn’t available for the long term. Better to know at the outset than to find out that someone wasn’t available after all, when it was way too late.
Bella wasn’t the type to compromise. She’d never understand, so Sophie added, ‘Look, Todd isn’t really my type. I’m enjoying myself while I’m here. My kind of man is serious, steady and reliable. Someone who’s ready to settle down. Have children. Once I get back to the UK, that’s the sort of man I’ll be looking for.’
Her words sounded convincing but inside a voice was shouting, No! That was old Sophie. The Sophie who went out with men like James. She wasn’t that Sophie any more. She wanted someone who made her laugh, someone spontaneous, someone with whom she could be uninhibited and passionate. Someone like Todd.