The Little Brooklyn Bakery Page 8

  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 under
wear.’ 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.’

  Chapter 7

  The laundromat smelled soft and clean, the soothing hum of tumble dryers cushioning the noise of the street outside. It was like fabric softener for the soul. Sophie handed over a large sack of washing and paid her five dollars.

  ‘When will it be ready?’ she asked.

  ‘Five cock. You come,’ said the ancient Vietnamese lady tapping her finger on the Formica counter top. ‘Five cock.’ Even though it was childish, Sophie bit back a snigger.

  ‘Today?’

  The lady looked affronted. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Great. Thank you.’ That was good service. Thank goodness for Todd’s advice yesterday afternoon.

  The woman had already stomped off like a bandy-legged Rumpelstiltskin to one of the dryers, where she started pulling out sheets bigger than she was.

  ‘Oh, I forgot to say. Todd sent me.’

  The woman dropped the sheet. ‘Todd. He good boy.’ She beamed. Was there any female he wasn’t capable of charming?

  Sophie left the shop with the promise of clean underwear later that afternoon, feeling she had achieved something. OK, so it was only washing, but it made her feel normal. As if she were starting to get back to normal. A big tick on her weekend list. Now all she had to do was fill the rest of today.

  She could keep walking, except that Hoyt Street, or at least this part, seemed a lot less fancy than Smith Street a block away. There were a couple of grocery and deli shops, the windows plastered with flyers and adverts for cheap offers; corner shops with grimy windows and hand-written signs promising cola at fifty cents; a scruffy pharmacy, a chicken and pizza fast-food place and a bike shop. The metal grills and the basic shop fronts were a far cry from the smart wooden trim finishes and fancy sign-written shop names a street away.

  Two teenagers in oversize hoodies and enormous trainers eyed her as they leaned on bikes against a lamp-post. Conscious of two pairs of eyes burning into her back and feeling slightly vulnerable, Sophie picked up her pace and scurried down the street towards home. All her good intentions to explore the area evaporated.

  As she drew level with the bakery, she spotted Bella beckoning her enthusiastically through the window.

  ‘Hey Sophie! Good morning, come and meet the Eds.’ Bella bounded up to her and dragged her past the busy tables into the warm kitchen, filled with the slightly steamy air of hot ovens and freshly baked batches of cakes.

  ‘This is Edie and this is Ed. Guys, meet my new neighbour, Sophie. And I think you met Wes when you arrived.’ Wes, leaning against the dresser, nodded and gave her a wide smile and saluted her.

  ‘Hey Sophie,’ the two people sitting on the sofa chorused in perfect unison, both lifting their hands in identical economic waves, rather like a pair of spookily in-tandem twins, even down to their clothes’ similar muted shades of green and brown. Both were very thin, with sharp angular features and short cropped hair in an identical shade of mousey brown, although Ed had considerably more hair on his chin than on the top of his head. It was the sort of magnificent beard that you saw in adverts for trendy beer or featuring lumberjacks.

  ‘They make and supply all the bread for the bakery,’ explained Bella.

  ‘And the bagels,’ piped up the more feminine-looking one of the pair.

  ‘And the bread rolls,’ added the other.

  ‘Coffee?’ asked Bella. ‘Grab a seat. We were having a tasting. You can give me a second opinion.’ The coffee table had been cleared of its papers and in the centre was a large bread-board with several different loaves which had been sliced open.

  ‘That would be lovely, thanks.’ She sank into one of the armchairs.

  ‘Here.’ Ed immediately thrust a chunk of bread at her. ‘Try this. Honey and walnut.’

  Edie huffed. ‘Not fair.’

  ‘She can try yours next,’ said Bella. ‘Honestly, they’re so competitive.’ She handed Sophie a rich, dark coffee.

  Both Ed and Edie grinned. ‘But of course.’

  ‘By the way, Sophie is my new tenant upstairs. The one I was talking about. From London.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Ed, pointing his finger at the bread and urging Sophie to get a move on.

  She took a bite of the still-warm bread. ‘Mmm, that is delicious.’

  Ed gave his opposite number a smug nod. Sophie was still trying to work out the relationship between the pair when Edie leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. ‘She hasn’t tried mine yet, buster,’ she said as she cut a wedge from the nearest, very pale loaf. ‘Here, this one has a bit of subtlety about it.’ She shot Ed a superior look, tilting her nose in the air.

  Sophie hurriedly bit into the crust, aware of the four pairs of eyes on her. This was clearly serious business.

  ‘Seeds,’ she looked at the bubbled, waxy interior of the bread, ‘chia seeds.’

  Edie straightened and beamed. Sophie chewed, trying to get a handle on the familiar taste. ‘Yoghurt?’

  ‘I like her,’ said Edie to no one in particular. ‘It’s my cholesterol-busting bread. Chia seeds and yoghurt. See, these English people have got taste.’

  ‘They’re both lovely,’ said Sophie. The honey-and-walnut was much nicer but the shadowed, anxious looks from Bella and Wes suggested that the wrong words might start World War Three right there in the kitchen.

  ‘OK, sold,’ said Bella. ‘I’ll take a dozen of each next week.’

  ‘Great,’ said Edie, beaming. ‘Now break out the cupcakes, babe. I’m fed up with the healthy crap. Those chia seeds have played havoc with my system this week. And thanks for the vote, Sophie. So what brings you Stateside? Apart from proving that my bread tastes better.’

  ‘I told you, she’s hiding out after a bad break-up,’ announced Bella. ‘And she needs to get out more.’

  Sophie opened her mouth to protest and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘You’ve been talking to Todd.’

  ‘Yeah, I spoke to him last night. He gave me a lecture about not keeping an eye out for you.’

  ‘Sorry. He shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Yes, he should. You’ve been here two weeks and not met anyone.’

  ‘That’s terrible. We can help,’ said Edie, bouncing slightly on the sofa. ‘We can introduce you to a few people in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Bella. ‘There’s Frank and Jim, they run the boutique across the street. They’re always good for a drink and they give great discount in the store.’

  ‘Oh yes, they have that really cute little guy who works on Saturdays,’ added Edie.

  ‘Little guy because he’s about sixteen,’ said Ed, poking her affectionately in the ribs as he turned to Sophie.

  Edie ignored him. ‘Wes, you know the guys down the road that run the cycle store. We could introduce Sophie to them. They have the most delicious legs. Lovely calves. Steel thighs.’

  ‘Who’s talking about steel thighs?’ asked a dry voice, appearing in the doorway hidden behind a pile of cardboard pizza boxes.

  ‘Maisie! Just the person.’ Bella ran over and removed the pile of boxes from the plump arms of a very smiley, short woman. ‘You know loads of people.’

  ‘That’s because everyone is a sucker for her cheesecakes,’ rumbled Wes, taking the boxes from Bella and sniffing appreciatively. ‘Mmm, they smell good.’

  ‘Cinnamon and caramel, a new recipe. And a couple of strawberry and chocolate cheesecakes.’

  ‘Mmm, I love your chocolate cheesecake. Remind me,
Ed, to grab a couple of slices when we leave. I need to keep my strength up. I’ve got a dozen loaves to knead this afternoon.’

  ‘Am I too late for a coffee?’ asked Maisie. ‘I’ve got a twenty-minute window before Carl divorces me for abandoning the twins with him.’ Somehow she’d crossed the room and had wedged her ample bottom into the armchair, her eyes dancing as if she were bursting with happy secrets. ‘And why do you need loads of people?’

  ‘Maisie, this is Sophie.’ Bella grabbed a mug from the dresser and filled it from the half-full cafetière on the side. ‘She’s taken the apartment upstairs and doesn’t know a soul in New York – well, apart from us. Oh and Todd, but he doesn’t count.’

  Maisie laughed, taking the coffee. ‘Well Sophie, you’ve landed in the right place. Bella’s Bakery is the place to meet at this end of Smith Street. We can introduce you to plenty of people.’

  ‘And she’s a foodie,’ said Bella. ‘She writes for CityZen.’

  ‘And she likes my chia-and-yoghurt bread.’ Edie held a piece out towards Maisie, who pulled a face.

  ‘I guess someone has to,’ teased Maisie, pushing it away as Edie laughed good-naturedly. ‘Although if you’re interested in food … has anyone tried the new Mezze place? Hummus to die for. Although the twins made it interesting. You ever tried removing a pomegranate seed from a five-year-old’s ear? A family adventure, I can tell you.’

  ‘Didn’t you just hold her upside down and shake?’ asked Ed, tipping his head on one side as if giving it careful consideration.

  ‘Sheesh, Mr Practical. And that right there, is why we’re not having kids any time soon.’ Slapping her hands on her hips, Edie’s bony arms protruded like a pair of twigs.

  Maisie hooked an arm through one of them and pulled her into a hug as everyone burst out laughing.

  ‘I’m assuming you don’t have any rugrats, Sophie?’ asked Edie.

  ‘No.’ She swallowed hard, an image of James’s little girl covered in yoghurt coming back to haunt her. ‘No kids. No boyfriend. No husband. Free. Single.’ And adrift. She’d been one of two for so long. Suddenly she realised everyone was staring at her and that her words had shot out like staccato bullets. ‘Sorry.’ Her face flushed and she looked down at the floor.