Miranda Dickinson 2 Book Bundle. Miranda Dickinson
‘Well, we have a rather special tub of cookie-dough ice cream—it’s a house speciality. Might I interest sir in a small helping?’
‘Absolutely. But make it a large one, please, I’m starving!’ James cried, clutching his stomach in mock agony. As I struggled to release myself from the sumptuous embrace of my sofa, my brother grabbed my hand and genuine affection filled his eyes. ‘It’s so good to be here, Rosie. Thank you.’
As a younger sister I have learned to be wary when my brother is being sentimental. These fleeting glimpses of affection usually occur when James is in trouble and needs me to bail him out. Later, once he was settled on my couch and I was in bed, I found myself wondering if this was to be another of those occasions. Quickly, my optimism gene sprang into action and I decided that this might actually be a time when my gut reaction was wrong. Self-centred though he may be, surely even James was capable of conveying real, heartfelt emotion sometimes.
Wasn’t he?
‘What are you doing this evening?’ James asked, next morning, as we sat eating breakfast.
I thought for a moment. ‘Nothing. Why?’
He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’d just like to do something nice for my darling little sister, that’s all.’
He’s in trouble, I told you, said a little voice in my brain.
I ignored it and smiled at him. ‘What sort of nice, exactly?’
James winked. ‘Rosie, you’re always so suspicious. Just make sure you’ve got something posh to wear, OK, because I’ve got reservations at somewhere rather special tonight. And I’m paying.’
I frowned. ‘If you’ve already made reservations, why did you bother asking me if I was free tonight?’
James surrendered. ‘Curses, rumbled again…OK, OK, I checked your diary while you were making the tea last night and I called the restaurant when you went to get the ice cream.’
‘OK.’ The explanation would suffice. For now.
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? demanded my conscience, stamping its foot. He is in big, big trouble and you’re going to get involved in it. Again. You don’t need this! I let out a breath and mentally pushed the voice into a corner.
‘Is everything OK?’ asked James, seeing my expression.
I smiled. ‘Everything’s fine.’
Marnie was waiting for me as I arrived to open up the shop. She sat slumped against the windowledge looking like she’d lost a million dollars and found a nickel. Even considering her rollercoaster of a love life, it was extremely unusual to see her like this.
‘Hi, Marnie. How are you?’
She stood up as the shutter lifted and we walked inside. ‘I’m good.’
‘You’re obviously not,’ I said, switching on the lights and taking off my coat. Marnie followed me into the workroom and hung her coat up next to mine. ‘Want to talk about it?’
Her eyes blinked quickly as tears welled up. ‘Please. But I don’t know if you can help.’
I smiled. ‘Let me try. How about you sit down and I’ll fire up Old F? And,’ I added, reaching into my bag and producing a warm M&H Bakers bag, ‘I took the liberty of getting some of Luigi’s double choc-chip cookies this morning, so you can help me with their disposal.’
Marnie’s eyes lit up and she threw her arms round me. ‘Thanks, Rosie. You’re a good friend.’
Once Old F had noisily produced a jug of rich, smoky coffee, I joined Marnie on the well-worn brown leather sofa by the window. This is another long-serving fixture at Kowalski’s and, I now realised as I sat down, yet another secret weapon in our struggle against Philippe. When customers are deliberating designs it is so much more civilised to seat them in a comfy corner, surround them with flowers and let them enjoy the fruits of Old F’s hard labour. Ed and I rescued the sofa from a closing-down coffee house not long after I took over from Mr K, and I still have fond memories of Ed risking life and limb to stop the traffic on West 68th Street as I tried to push it across the road. Marnie certainly seemed to be responding to its comfort as I sat down next to her.
‘OK, Rosie. Here’s the deal,’ she began, nibbling a cookie. ‘I’ve met this guy at my community theatre. His name is Mack, he’s from Brooklyn but now he lives in East Village and he’s twenty-two years older than me. He lectures English at Columbus University and he’s one of the Hudson River Players’ directors. He’s so amazing, Rosie. You know, it’s like everything he says is worthy of recognition? I’m totally in awe of him.’
‘So what’s the problem?’ I asked.
Marnie sighed and looked into her coffee. ‘He doesn’t even notice me. I overheard him saying to one of the others that he’s just come out of a long, lonely marriage and he’s got his eye on someone in the class. I kinda hoped it would be me, you know?’
‘How do you know it isn’t?’ I asked.
‘That’s just it. I don’t know,’ Marnie wailed. ‘I haven’t slept for a whole week. I can’t get him out of my mind. How do I approach him? What do I say?’
‘I’m not sure you’re asking the right person,’ I smiled. ‘After all, I’m not the world’s greatest authority on relationships…’ I looked at Marnie. She wore a smile, but it was weak and transparent. It was time for a different tack. ‘Um, OK…Why don’t you invite him out for a drink after class? Say you’d like to get to know him a little better. Or…tell him about your work here and invite him over to see your latest project? Just try to be his friend for a while and see what happens.’
Marnie looked up at me. ‘But what if he’s repulsed by the sight of me?’
I patted her hand. ‘Not possible, mate. You’re gorgeous. Concentrate on becoming his friend. Look at it this way: if he likes you, you’ll have opened the door for something to begin; if he doesn’t, well, then you’ll have gained a friend you already respect. You win either way. OK?’
‘OK,’ Marnie said, still uncertain but brightening slowly. She hugged me again. ‘Thanks, Rosie, I’ll try.’
The bell on the front door chimed as Ed arrived. ‘Ugh!’ he exclaimed, covering his eyes with his copy of the New York Observer. ‘Female bonding alert! Get me out of here…I need air…’ The paper was whipped away, revealing an eager smile. ‘No, wait—tell me all the juicy details.’
Marnie and I stood up. ‘None to tell,’ Marnie said, walking past him aloofly.
‘Great,’ Ed moaned. ‘As usual I’m discriminated against purely because I have no womb.’
‘Ooh, Ed with a womb—now there’s a scary thought…’ I began.
‘Hey, I’d be great with a womb,’ Ed protested, following me over to the counter. ‘I pride myself on being fashionably in touch with my feminine side. Despite the fact that it’s obvious to anyone I’m an undeniably awesome hunk of manhood.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Marnie laughed. ‘Name your feminine attributes then.’
‘I understand flowers,’ he replied proudly. ‘I eat chocolate when I’m depressed. I’m not averse to a good bit of gossip every once in a while. So spill the details, sisters!’
Marnie and I exchanged looks. ‘Should we be worried?’ I asked.
Marnie giggled. ‘Does he have a weekend name?’
Ed looked mystified. ‘A weekend name?’