Girl Online (14 page)

“Hi, Sadie Lee,” Mum says. “Yes, this is Penny.”

“It is so lovely to meet you,” Sadie Lee says, giving me a twinkly-eyed smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Before I can reply, she’s giving me a hug. She smells lovely—a really comforting mixture of soap and cinnamon.

“How did y’all sleep?” Sadie Lee asks in a husky Southern drawl, looking from Mum to me.

“Great,” I say.

But Mum shakes her head. “I’m afraid I was too nervous to get much sleep.”

Sadie Lee looks at her and smiles. “Honey, there’s no need to be nervous. You’re doing a wonderful job. Or as they’d say in
Downton Abbey
—it’s going to be simply splendid.” Sadie Lee throws back her head and laughs a really warm, throaty laugh.

There are some people you officially fall in love with within seconds of meeting them. Sadie Lee is definitely one of those people.

“Penny’s going to be taking some behind-the-scenes photos for the Bradys,” Mum explains.

“What a great idea.” Sadie Lee smiles at me. “Well, you know, I’m about to start doing some baking for the reception buffet so y’all would be very welcome to come and take a few pictures in the kitchen if you’d like?”

“That would be perfect,” Mum says. She looks at me. “Will you be OK, Pen? I just need to go and check that the waiting staff’s costumes all fit, OK?”

“Of course.”

As Mum heads off, I follow Sadie Lee into the kitchen. After the olde worlde vibe of the other rooms, it’s really weird to see the sleek stainless-steel counters and huge industrial-sized ovens.

“We’re doing most of the cooking tomorrow,” Sadie Lee explains. “But I thought I’d get the cakes for the reception buffet done today. I’m making a traditional British afternoon tea.”

“Don’t you have any staff to help you?” I say, looking around the empty kitchen.

She shakes her head. “Uh-uh, not today. But tomorrow I’ll have a whole team of chefs.”

I take a few pictures of Sadie Lee baking and a close-up of her flour-splattered cookbook. Then I decide to go and take some pictures of the dining room. But I leave the kitchen through the wrong door and come out into another huge room. This one has a long polished wooden dance floor running down the center of it, with small round tables lining either side. I’m about to leave when I hear the gentle strum of a guitar coming from the far end of the room. It’s so dark I can only just make out the silhouette of someone seated on the stage.

I go and investigate, creeping down one of the carpeted areas at the side of the dance floor. As I get closer to the stage, the sound of the guitar gets louder and I can hear someone singing. They’re singing so quietly I can’t quite make out the words, but whatever it is sounds beautiful and really, really sad. I tiptoe a bit closer until I see the figure of a boy sitting cross-legged on the stage, playing the guitar with his back to me. He’s surrounded by musical equipment—a drum kit, a keyboard, and a microphone stand. There’s something so magical about the image that I can’t resist turning on my camera and sneaking a tiny bit closer. I focus and take the shot, but—to my horror—I forget to turn the flash off and the stage is flooded with light.

“Whoa!” The mystery singing person leaps to his feet and spins around, putting his hands over his face. “How did you
get in?” he yells in a really strong New York accent. “Who sent you here?”

“I’m sorry—I couldn’t resist—you looked so—” Thankfully, I manage to stop myself from committing an Act of Gross Embarrassment and change tack. “I’m taking some photos for the wedding that’s happening here tomorrow. How did
you
get in? Are you the wedding singer?”

“Am I the wedding singer?” He peers at me from between his fingers. There’s a tattoo of a bar of music notes on his wrist.

“Yes. Are you practicing?” I walk a bit closer to the stage and he actually takes a step back, like he’s scared of me. “I wouldn’t do that song tomorrow, if I were you.”

He stands motionless, with his hands still half covering his face. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s not very wedding-y. I mean, it was beautiful—what I heard of it—but it sounded so sad and I don’t think that’s the right kind of vibe for a wedding, you know? You need to be thinking more along the lines of the theme from
Dirty Dancing
. That always goes down really well at weddings. Did you guys get
Dirty Dancing
over here?”

He lowers his hands and stares at me, like he’s trying to work out if I’m an alien from another planet. And now that I can see him properly, I’m so stunned I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a thought bubble bursting from my head saying,
WOW!
He’s what Elliot would call Rock-God–tastic: all messy dark hair, chiseled cheekbones, faded jeans, and scuffed-up boots.

“Yeah, we got
Dirty Dancing
over here,” he says, but his
voice is a lot softer now, almost like he’s trying not to laugh. “It was actually made in America.”

“Ah, yes, of course it was.” That familiar sinking feeling returns. Even when I’m in New York, I’m a liability. I’m now an
international
embarrassment waiting to happen. But then a strange feeling comes over me—a strong, determined feeling. I am
not
going to make a fool of myself on this trip. Even if it means not talking to anyone other than Elliot and Mum and Dad. Even if it means not talking to someone totally Rock-God–tastic—someone totally Rock-God–tastic from New York.

“Well, sorry to bother you, and good luck tomorrow,” I say, my cheeks burning, and I turn to go.

Chapter Sixteen

“I’m not the wedding singer,” he says, before I’ve even taken a step.

I stop in my tracks. “You’re not?”

“No.”

I turn and look at him. He’s grinning at me now—a really cute lopsided grin, featuring several dimples. “So what are you doing here then?”

“I like breaking into hotels and playing really sad songs in their wedding suites,” he says, grinning even more.

“Interesting career choice,” I say.

“It is,” he says, nodding. “But the pay’s lousy.”

What if he’s a craz y person?
my inner voice whispers.
A New York craz y person. What if he’s broken into the hotel suite? What if I have to make a citizen’s arrest? Do they even have citizen’s arrests over here? Aaargh! What am I going to do?

He doesn’t look like a crazy person, though. Now that he’s smiling, he looks like a very nice person, but still . . .

“Why the frown?” he says.

“I was just thinking.”

“What?”

“You’re not—crazy—are you?”

He laughs really loud. “No. Well, yes, but only in a good way. I’ve found that life’s a whole lot better if you get a little crazy sometimes.”

I nod. That definitely makes sense to me.

“What’s your name?” he asks, picking up the guitar and placing it back on its stand.

“Penny.”

“Penny.” It sounds really good said in his voice. “I’m Noah. And I’m guessing from the accent that you’re British, right?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet. And you’re a photographer?”

“Yes—well—an amateur photographer, but one day I hope to be professional. My mum’s doing the styling for the wedding here, that’s why they’ve asked me to take some behind-the-scenes pictures. So, why are you here really?”

“Really?” He tilts his head to one side, still grinning.

I nod.

“My grandma’s working on the wedding too.”

“Your grandma?”

“Yes, Sadie Lee. She’s doing the catering.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve met her.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
He’s not a craz y person. I’ve met his grandma. I love his grandma. I won’t have to make a citizen’s arrest
.

“I gave her a lift here this morning and she said I could hang out for a bit if I stayed out of everyone’s way,” Noah continues. “So I came through here and saw the guitar and I couldn’t resist playing it.”

“Are you a musician then?”

He gives me a funny little smile. “No, not really—it’s just something I do in my spare time. Are you hungry?”

“What? Oh, yes, a bit.”

He jumps down from the stage. The closer he gets, the cuter he gets. His eyes are as dark brown as Sadie Lee’s and just like hers they seem to twinkle when he smiles. It makes me feel all strange and light, like I’m made of feathers and could drift away at any minute.

“Let’s go get some food from Sadie Lee. But first”—he stares right at me—“can you please say ‘tomato’?”

“What?”

“ ‘Tomato.’ Please, can you say it for me?”

I grin and shake my head; he is definitely crazy, but good crazy. “OK then, tomato.”

“Ha!” He claps his hands together with glee. “
Tom-ah-to
,” he mimics. “I love the way you Brits say that. Come on.” And with that, he strides off in the direction of the kitchen.

The kitchen now smells amazing, with one counter lined with trays of tiny jam tarts and fairy cakes ready to go into the oven and one lined with trays that have just come out. Sadie Lee is over by the huge sink, rinsing out a mixing bowl.

“Hey, G-ma,” Noah calls out to her. “You got any food that needs testing? Me and Penny here are starving.”

“Noah!” Sadie Lee exclaims joyfully, as if she hasn’t seen him for years. “Penny!” she cries, when she sees me. “You guys have met.”

“Yep, Penny caught me pretending to be the wedding singer.”

Sadie Lee looks really confused. “Pretending to be the wedding singer but—”

“Never mind—you had to be there, I guess,” Noah says, cutting her off, and then he looks at me and winks before turning back to Sadie Lee. “So whatcha got cooking?” He looks at the tray of freshly baked jam tarts hungrily.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Sadie Lee says, flicking at him with a tea towel. “These are for the wedding.”

“What, all of them?”

“Yes, all of them. But if you guys want—”

Just at that moment, Mum bursts into the kitchen. “There’s been a disaster!” she cries, causing Noah and Sadie Lee to look instantly alarmed. But I know better; I’ve seen Mum react like this when she’s burned a slice of toast.

“What’s up?” I say.

“The tiara has broken,” she says, glancing questioningly at Noah, then back at me. “It’s snapped right in half and Cindy is adamant that she has to have an authentic Edwardian tiara. I don’t know what to do! I’ve left messages at a couple of vintage stores but—” Mum’s phone starts ringing and she slams it to her ear. “Hello? Oh yes, thank you for calling back. I’m looking for a vintage Edwardian tiara—it’s for a wedding tomorrow so it’s kind of an emergency.”

We all watch in silence.

“You do? How much is it? And what kind of condition is it in? Oh, that’s brilliant. Thank you. Yes. This afternoon. Thank you, bye.” Mum sighs with relief. “OK,” she says to us, “there’s a store in Brooklyn that has one.” Then Mum’s smile curves down into a frown. “But how am I going to get to Brooklyn when I’ve still got the dress fittings for the
flower girls? And I’ve got to check the cake. And meet with Cindy and Jim?” She throws her hands up into the air.

“It’s OK,” Sadie Lee says, her Southern drawl instantly calm and soothing. “Noah can go pick it up for you.”

“Sure,” Noah says, nodding.

“Noah’s my grandson,” Sadie Lee explains.

“Ah, I see. I’m so sorry,” Mum says, holding her hand out to Noah. “I didn’t even introduce myself.”

“No problem,” Noah says, shaking her hand. “What’s the address for the store?”

As Mum writes it down for him, Noah turns to me. “Want to come with me, Penny, and see some of the Brooklyn sights?”

My heart does a little cartwheel of excitement. I look at Mum. “Would that be OK, Mum? It would be nice to get out for a bit.”

Mum barely glances at me; she’s distracted by a message on her phone. “Sure, sure.”

I go over and take hold of her hands. “It’s all going to be OK,” I tell her quietly.

She smiles at me gratefully. “Thanks, darling. I’ll call the store back and pay for the tiara on my credit card so they don’t sell it to anyone else before you get there. Here, take this—it’s cold outside.” She slips off her jacket and hands it to me, then she looks at Sadie Lee and Noah. “Thanks, guys.”

“No problem,” Noah says. He turns to me and grins. “Come on then, my lady,” he says in a hilarious British accent. “Your carriage awaits.”