Shopaholic Takes Manhattan
Page 47
She breaks off as Luke appears at the door of his office, ushering out a man in a purple shirt.
“Mel, order a taxi for Mr. Mallory, would you please?”
“Of course, Luke,” says Mel, switching into her efficient secretary voice. She picks up the phone and we grin at each other — then I walk into Luke’s office.
His office is so smart. I always forget how grand he is. He’s got a sweeping maple desk that was designed by some award-winning Danish designer, and on the shelves in the alcove behind it are all his shiny PR awards.
“Here you are,” he says, handing me a sheaf of papers. The top one is a letter from someone called “Howski and Forlano, U.S. Immigration Lawyers,” and as I see the words “your proposed relocation to the United States,” I feel a tingle of excitement which reaches right to my fingertips.
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” I say, walking over to his floor-length window and gazing down at the busy street below. “We’re really going to New York.”
“The flights are booked,” he says, grinning at me.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do know just what you mean,” he echoes, and wraps me in his arms. “And it’s very exciting.”
For a while we just stand there, the two of us, looking down at the busy London street below. I can hardly believe I’m planning to leave all this to live in a foreign country. It’s exciting and wonderful — but just a little scary, at the same time.
“Do you really think I’ll get a job out there?” I say, as I have every time I’ve seen him in the past week. “Do you honestly think I will?”
“Of course you will.” He sounds so assured and confident, I feel myself relax into his arms. “They’ll love you. You’re talented, and you’re charming, and you come with a record of success… no question at all.” He kisses me and holds me tight for a moment. Then he moves away to his desk, frowns absently, and opens a huge file labeled “New York.” No wonder it’s so huge. He told me the other day that he’s been working toward a New York deal for three years. Three years!
“I can’t believe you’ve been planning this for so long and never told me,” I say, watching him scribble something on a Post-it.
“Mmm,” says Luke. I clench the papers in my hands slightly harder and take a deep breath. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while — and now is as good a moment as any.
“Luke, what would you have done if I hadn’t wanted to go to New York?”
There’s silence apart from the hum of the computer.
“I knew you’d want to go,” says Luke at last. “It’s the next obvious step for you.”
“But… what if I hadn’t?” I bite my lip. “Would you still have gone?” Luke sighs.
“Becky — you do want to go to New York, don’t you?”
“Yes! You know I do!”
“So — what’s the point in asking what-if questions? The point is, you want to go, I want to go… it’s all perfect.” He smiles at me and puts down his pen. “How are your parents doing?”
“They’re… OK,” I say hesitantly. “They’re kind of getting used to the idea.”
Which is sort of true. They were fairly shocked when I told them, I have to admit. In hindsight, perhaps I should have introduced Luke to them before making the announcement. Because how it happened was, I hurried into the house — where they were still sitting in their wedding gear, drinking tea in front of Countdown — and I switched off the telly and said joyfully, “Mum, Dad, I’m moving to New York with Luke!”
Whereupon Mum just looked at Dad and said, “Oh, Graham. She’s gone.”
She said afterward she didn’t mean it like that — but I’m not so sure.
Then they actually met Luke, and he told them about his plans, and explained about all the opportunities in American TV for me — and I could see Mum’s smile fading. Her face seemed to get smaller and smaller, and sort of closed in on itself. She went off to make some tea in the kitchen, and I followed her — and I could see she was upset. But she refused to show it. She just made the tea, with slightly shaking hands, and put out some biscuits — and then she turned to me and smiled brightly, and said, “I’ve always thought you would suit New York, Becky. It’s the perfect place for you.”
I stared at her, suddenly realizing what I was talking about. Going and living thousands of miles away from home, and my parents, and… my whole life, apart from Luke.
“Mel, order a taxi for Mr. Mallory, would you please?”
“Of course, Luke,” says Mel, switching into her efficient secretary voice. She picks up the phone and we grin at each other — then I walk into Luke’s office.
His office is so smart. I always forget how grand he is. He’s got a sweeping maple desk that was designed by some award-winning Danish designer, and on the shelves in the alcove behind it are all his shiny PR awards.
“Here you are,” he says, handing me a sheaf of papers. The top one is a letter from someone called “Howski and Forlano, U.S. Immigration Lawyers,” and as I see the words “your proposed relocation to the United States,” I feel a tingle of excitement which reaches right to my fingertips.
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” I say, walking over to his floor-length window and gazing down at the busy street below. “We’re really going to New York.”
“The flights are booked,” he says, grinning at me.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do know just what you mean,” he echoes, and wraps me in his arms. “And it’s very exciting.”
For a while we just stand there, the two of us, looking down at the busy London street below. I can hardly believe I’m planning to leave all this to live in a foreign country. It’s exciting and wonderful — but just a little scary, at the same time.
“Do you really think I’ll get a job out there?” I say, as I have every time I’ve seen him in the past week. “Do you honestly think I will?”
“Of course you will.” He sounds so assured and confident, I feel myself relax into his arms. “They’ll love you. You’re talented, and you’re charming, and you come with a record of success… no question at all.” He kisses me and holds me tight for a moment. Then he moves away to his desk, frowns absently, and opens a huge file labeled “New York.” No wonder it’s so huge. He told me the other day that he’s been working toward a New York deal for three years. Three years!
“I can’t believe you’ve been planning this for so long and never told me,” I say, watching him scribble something on a Post-it.
“Mmm,” says Luke. I clench the papers in my hands slightly harder and take a deep breath. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while — and now is as good a moment as any.
“Luke, what would you have done if I hadn’t wanted to go to New York?”
There’s silence apart from the hum of the computer.
“I knew you’d want to go,” says Luke at last. “It’s the next obvious step for you.”
“But… what if I hadn’t?” I bite my lip. “Would you still have gone?” Luke sighs.
“Becky — you do want to go to New York, don’t you?”
“Yes! You know I do!”
“So — what’s the point in asking what-if questions? The point is, you want to go, I want to go… it’s all perfect.” He smiles at me and puts down his pen. “How are your parents doing?”
“They’re… OK,” I say hesitantly. “They’re kind of getting used to the idea.”
Which is sort of true. They were fairly shocked when I told them, I have to admit. In hindsight, perhaps I should have introduced Luke to them before making the announcement. Because how it happened was, I hurried into the house — where they were still sitting in their wedding gear, drinking tea in front of Countdown — and I switched off the telly and said joyfully, “Mum, Dad, I’m moving to New York with Luke!”
Whereupon Mum just looked at Dad and said, “Oh, Graham. She’s gone.”
She said afterward she didn’t mean it like that — but I’m not so sure.
Then they actually met Luke, and he told them about his plans, and explained about all the opportunities in American TV for me — and I could see Mum’s smile fading. Her face seemed to get smaller and smaller, and sort of closed in on itself. She went off to make some tea in the kitchen, and I followed her — and I could see she was upset. But she refused to show it. She just made the tea, with slightly shaking hands, and put out some biscuits — and then she turned to me and smiled brightly, and said, “I’ve always thought you would suit New York, Becky. It’s the perfect place for you.”
I stared at her, suddenly realizing what I was talking about. Going and living thousands of miles away from home, and my parents, and… my whole life, apart from Luke.
