‘They do milkshakes.’
‘Fair enough.’
They sat at a corner table in the already quite busy space, filled with people who looked to be on their way to work in the service sector – dressed in uniforms of local hotels and restaurants. A pair of gendarmes sat near the window talking earnestly and sipping espresso. The room was filled with the rumble of quiet conversation and the gorgeous aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread.
Brad went to the counter as she sat and opened her laptop on the table. She noticed that, despite the fact this was a busy café, she was the only one who’d brought a device with her. One woman looked at her almost with admonishment as if her computer had no place in a café, and Bella quickly looked away.
When Brad returned with two large cups of black coffee, each with a tiny pastry nestling on the saucer, she had already pulled up her plans. He sat, placing her hot drink next to her carefully, then taking a sip from his own. ‘Mmm.’
She also lifted her cup to her lips, the rich aroma meeting her before the beverage even made it to her mouth. It was rich and delicious. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Great coffee.’
He nodded. ‘Still do milkshakes too, but my gut can’t take it these days.’ He smacked his stomach. ‘Anyway, enough of the small talk. Hit me with it.’
She laughed. ‘I assume we’re talking metaphorically?’
‘Well, think I’d probably be more help without concussion,’ he replied, ‘but hey, go ahead if it’ll help your stress levels.’
She pushed the laptop in front of him. ‘Here’s what I’ve done so far,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t realise Claudine was expecting more. You know, creating a unified look for the hotel, a theme – I hadn’t realised how important that was.’
‘OK,’ he read through the list, his tongue just visible at the edge of his lips as he concentrated. ‘Right,’ he said at last, pushing the laptop back towards her.
‘Right?’
‘It’s OK.’ He nodded. ‘These things you’ve done, they’re pretty cool.’
‘Right? But?’
He looked at her. ‘Well, I was having a look at Hotel Club stuff last night, after you went to bed. And I looked at your place too – it’s pretty cute.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And you know, you might just make it. There’s nothing wrong with it as far as I can see. Plus the home-baked goods – that’s a great touch. Especially if they’re anything like the ones I ate yesterday.’
‘Last week.’
‘What?’
‘You ate my cookies last week.’
‘Ah. Well, sorry. I also ate some yesterday.’
‘Brad! Those were for the launch!’ But she wasn’t angry, not really. ‘I was practising.’
‘Sorry. They’re just too good. And I guess they help.’
‘Help with what? Your aim to develop diabetes before you’re fifty?’
He gave a small, breathy laugh. ‘Nah. Just… I guess I feel a bit down sometimes is all.’
‘Oh.’ It was hard to know what to say. ‘Well, in that case, feel free.’
‘Thanks.’
He pulled a tattered notebook from the inner pocket of his jacket. ‘Anyway, I wrote down a few ideas – you know, quick fixes that you can turn around in a few weeks. Just things maybe I’d do in your position.’ He shrugged as if it were no big deal.
She took the notebook from him, noticing the scribbled ‘Lyrics’ on the cover. ‘You write songs?’
He shook his head. ‘Not for a while.’
