The Little Brooklyn Bakery. Julie Caplin
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‘You two have met?’
‘Remember I fixed up the rental on my cousin’s place?’
‘Yeah, of course. You’re our regular Mr Fixit. Need a new screen for your phone, know where to buy fresh Oregano or find a holiday let in the Hamptons? Todd is our man.’ Despite her brusque words, she shot him a wry, fond look. ‘And somehow, Todd has managed to appropriate a second desk.’ She wrinkled her forehead. ‘And I have no idea how he did that or how it gets to be in this state.’ Trudy gave the messy surface a plaintive frown.
‘Hey English, we’re going to be roomies.’ He swept a pile of paper from the surface of the desk and dumped it into a box which he then put under his own desk, with a cheerful shrug. ‘No idea what any of that is but I haven’t looked at it in a month.’
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Todd McLennan.’
‘Work, boss. Work,’ supplied Todd.
Trudy sighed, but smiled back at him. ‘That’s what you’re calling it?’ She turned back to Sophie. ‘I’m still not sure why we employ him, other than he’s cute to look at.’
Cute was the understatement of the century but she said it without irony. Maybe familiarity bred immunity.
‘And the readers love me.’ He tilted back in his chair, his hands behind his head.
‘Unfortunately, he has a point there.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Voted most popular column last month, and he’s won a couple of awards, but we try not to let it go to his head.’
At that point Todd, with a silly cartoon gesture, as if he didn’t take them terribly seriously, pointed to a couple of crystal-glass trophies on the shelf behind his desk which were doing sterling work as paperweights to teetering piles of paper.
‘However, he has volunteered to clean this desk up for you.’ Her pointed look had him jumping to his feet.
Ignoring him, she focused on Sophie, ‘I’m really sorry about the mix-up. But if you can get yourself set up here … without the aid of a hazmat suit, hopefully … then you can join us for the editorial meeting at ten-fifty. Todd’ll show you where everything is.’
Sophie nodded, noticing Madison gliding up behind Trudy.
‘Hey Todd.’ The younger girl flashed him the sort of predatory smile a prowling jaguar would have been proud of. ‘Look Trudy, maybe I should swap desks. Let …’ she nodded towards Sophie, ‘have Brandi’s desk. It’s with the other food writers. It probably makes sense. I can sit here with Todd.’
Sophie just bet she could.
‘And how would I get any work done, Maddie? I’d be constantly distracted by your gorgeousness.’
Oh please. Sophie schooled her face into polite indifference. He had to be kidding.
‘Oh Todd, you’re such a charmer,’ said Madison, dipping her head coyly.
Really? That sort of cheese was digestible?
‘I know,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But English here is going to help me with a new feature, so it probably makes sense for her to be in the vicinity.’
News to her. Sophie stuck her tongue firmly in her cheek, which only Todd could see. He gave her a twisted grin. ‘Yeah … er … An – um – Englishwoman Abroad, checking out what’s new in New York.’
Madison frowned, or at least tried to. Her forehead didn’t seem to want to wrinkle like normal people’s did.
‘Oh, OK. Well, if you change your mind or finish your feature, I can always help on another one. I know all the most exclusive bars and I can get you into the member-only clubs.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind. Thanks, you’re a doll.’
Trudi smiled pleasantly, the epitome of diplomacy. ‘Right, well, we’ll leave you to it. See you at the editorial meeting.’ She turned on her heel, making a pointed pause when Madison didn’t immediately follow.
‘I’ll see you around, Todd. Maybe we can have that drink sometime.’
Todd waved a casual finger at her. ‘You bet.’
Sophie stood helplessly, while Todd unearthed a phone extension from underneath a stack of magazines. ‘I knew there was one here somewhere.’ He stepped forward and then with a wicked grin said, ‘Let me clear these sex toys away.’ He paused, sorting through a pile of boxes before offering her an open one with a large pink plastic shape nestled in purple tissue paper. ‘Unless you’d like to try a couple out and review them for me. For the column.’
Sophie gave him a level look which he cheerfully ignored.
‘Maybe not.’ He dropped the box on the floor and nudged it under his desk with his foot. ‘Here, grab these a second.’ He shoved a handful of flimsy silk underwear into her hands. ‘Help yourself to anything you fancy. They’re not my size.’
‘Fan mail?’ asked Sophie dryly, beginning to wonder quite what the scope of his column was. The one she’d read entitled ‘West Bank’ had been a recommendation of the best restaurants and bars, with multiple escape routes for those dates that went West, as well as a guide to decoding what men meant when they said certain things on a first date. It had been funny, witty and irreverent, poking fun at men’s hapless approaches to dating.
Todd let out a bark of laughter. ‘Funny, English. Funny. No, they’re samples. Sometimes I recommend gift-buying ideas. I get sent all sorts of stuff.’
‘So I gathered.’
‘Comes with the territory of being New York’s Man About Town, aka expert on everything.’
Todd’s idea of tidying up was simply transferring most of the mess to a pile behind his desk, but she could hardly complain as it meant she now had a clear space to work in. A bit too clear. She gave the bleak desk a baleful look, regretting not even bringing her own notebook to lay claim to her new territory. Digging in her handbag, she pulled out a solitary biro – it was the one Todd had lent her yesterday morning – and put it out in front of her. It looked a little sad. Lost and alone. Her mouth twisted.
When she looked up Todd was studying her.
‘You OK? You need anything?’
‘Fine,’ she said with a wan smile. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got some paper I can borrow to go into the meeting. I packed in a hurry … I didn’t bring …’ On her desk at home, she had a pretty pot with pens, a magnetic bird that held paperclips and … a photo of James in a silver frame. Pain pinched at her heart.
‘Sure.’ He tossed towards her a lined foolscap pad emblazoned with a company logo. The phone on his desk shrilled. ‘Todd McLennan. Hey Charlene,’ his voice dropped an octave and he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. ‘Course I haven’t forgotten. Charlene, how could I forget you?’ He winked at Sophie.
She rolled her eyes and his grin widened.
Utterly shameless. Sophie stared at the soles of his trendy lace-up boots.
‘Seven o’clock is just great, Charlene. Can’t wait.’ He put the phone down.
‘Was that Charlene by any chance?’ asked Sophie, amused. ‘Worried you were going to forget her name?’
‘It has happened,’ replied Todd. ‘But it’s a good psychological trick, builds rapport.’
Sophie could see exactly why Bella had said he was bad news.
‘And now on to the November edition. The fashion section is all sewn up. We’ve got the “Hundred Best Boots for the Fall” feature. Health, we’re focusing on supplements and vitamins that beat lethargy and tiredness. We’re testing cookers for best buys.’
As Trudy spoke, Sophie