The Little Brooklyn Bakery Read online

  ‘Cheers,’ said Bella, holding up her glass.

  ‘Cheers.’

  They chinked glasses.

  ‘Thanks, Sophie. I really appreciate this.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything yet.’

  ‘Aside from cleaning up. And offering moral support.’

  Sophie looked around the kitchen. ‘So, what would you like me to do?’

  ‘First, I need to get cracking on making a new batch of cakes. So, if you can be my go-to girl on weights and measures and weigh out all the fixings, that would be awesome. My basic recipe is here.’ She pointed to a laminated sheet pinned to a pin-board. ‘Scales over there. Sticks of butter in the fridge. Dry goods in the pantry. Eggs on the shelf. Thank goodness I stocked up this week.’

  Thanks to her crash course in conversion over the last two weeks, Sophie had got a handle on things and knew that a stick of butter equated to half a cup of butter or four ounces in English measurement, so she set to following Bella’s swift instructions to assemble all the ingredients beside a professional Kitchen Aid.

  ‘I’ve got one of these at home,’ said Sophie, stroking the smart red enamel like a pet.

  ‘Silly me, I completely forgot you’re a foodie. You can cook then.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ said Sophie, laughing.

  ‘You can make the batter, while I mix up a new batch of frosting and re-ice these ones.’

  ‘I was going to ask you if I could watch you one day. I’m working on a feature on afternoon tea, English style, and I wanted to make some cupcakes and come up with some autumn, I mean fall, themed toppings.’

  ‘Ooh, I’d love to help. Fall leaf colours would be good. I could do a seasonal display. I’d have to think flavours.’

  ‘Ginger. You could make parkin cakes.’

  ‘Parkin?’

  Sophie explained what it was. Soon the two of them were bouncing cake recipe and ideas back and forth, and by the time the first batch of cakes came out of the oven they’d drunk most of the bottle of wine.

  When the second batch of cakes went in, they sank to the floor, clutching their glasses with the very last dregs of the wine. In tired silence, they watched the cakes in the oven slowly rise and turn golden.

  Sophie sighed and took a last sip of wine. ‘There’s nothing quite like that moment when the cake goes pouf over the top of its case. It makes me feel like there’s some sense in the world. All’s well when it does what it’s supposed to.’

  ‘I’d never thought of it like that, but you’re right. There’s nothing quite like that moment. Pouf.’ Bella waved her wineglass at Sophie. ‘Pouf is the perfect word. Although why we are sitting here when I have a perfectly good sofa over there, is bonkers.’ She awkwardly raised herself to her feet and hobbled over to one of the pink armchairs, lowering herself gingerly and putting her bad leg on the messy table. Sophie followed and sank into the sofa opposite.

  ‘Sophie, you’re a godsend. I think if it hadn’t been for you I would have wept hysterically on the stairs for the whole night.’

  ‘Your knee not so good?’ Even from the sofa Sophie could see that Bella’s injured knee was almost double the size of the other.

  ‘No. It’s sore. And very stiff. Shit, I hope I can drive tomorrow.’ Bella leaned over and prodded it. ‘It’s very swollen. I can hardly bend it.’

  ‘Is there anyone else who could help deliver them? Could you put them in a taxi?’

  ‘Not really. To be honest, it’s a two-man job. I need someone to hang onto the boxes. I usually ask my friend Wes, but …’ she tightened her lips, ‘I was going to ask you if you could help out.’

  ‘Course, I don’t mind. I’d offer to drive but …’ she pulled a face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been behind the wheel of a car. Living in central London, she used public transport all the time.

  Bella winced and looked at her watch. ‘I can try calling the cavalry … see if Todd’s available. What’s the chance of him being around on a Friday night?’

  ‘Slim,’ suggested Sophie. ‘In fact, I’d say given that I’ve been fielding his calls all week from a stream of lovely girls, he’s bound to be out on a hot date.’

  She’d already decided he was like Macavity, the Mystery Cat – i.e. never there. Certainly not at his desk when she was in the office, although there were definite signs of habitation. Usually empty coffee cups and cookie crumbs. The switchboard kept putting his calls through to her extension and she’d been the recipient of several very perky, friendly repeat calls from women trying to track him down. To be fair – and that was one of Sophie’s strengths, she was exceedingly good at being fair – the women were always absolutely charming and, rather bafflingly, completely understanding about his failure to return their calls.

  ‘Aw, poor Todd. He’s so busy. If you could tell him that Lacey called again, I’d be grateful.’ Poor Todd. Poor Lacey, more like. She’d called four times this week. While Cherie with the lisp had called three times and high-pitched, giggly Amy twice.

  ‘Well, I’ll have to call him,’ said Bella, wiping at her forehead with her arm, leaving a streak of flour across her face. ‘I can’t think of anyone else with a car.’

  She tapped her fingers on her phone screen. To Sophie’s surprise, the phone only rang twice and then she heard Todd answer.

  ‘Hey Todd.’

  ‘Hey Bellabella. What you up to?’

  ‘Having a disaster. I need your help.’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Would you be able to help with a delivery tomorrow morning? I need to get six dozen cupcakes over to the other side of Greenpoint.’

  Sophie waited, expecting a slew of questions and excuses.

  ‘Sure. What time?’

  ‘Early, I’m afraid. I said I’d get them there for eight because I thought I’d need to get back to open the shop. My Saturday girls don’t start until ten. It’s a bit late to phone the client and change the arrangements now.’ Bella winced.

  ‘No problem. I’ll be there at seven. You’d better have a coffee ready.’

  ‘Todd, you’re an angel.’

  ‘Does that mean I qualify for a lifetime supply of heavenly cupcakes?’

  ‘You bet. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Laters.’

  Bella turned to Sophie. ‘He’s a star. So will you go with him? Sorry, you’ve probably got plans.’

  ‘Of course I can help.’

  ‘And you should be finished by nine.’

  Great. That just left the rest of the day to fill.

  Chapter 6

  ‘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 s
ome 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.’