Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 48

“Where’s Jasmine?” He glances around the personal shopping reception area.

“She’s…in the stock room,” I lie.

Actually, Jasmine is asleep on the floor in one of the dressing rooms. Her new theory is, since there’s nothing to do at work, she might as well use the time to sleep and go clubbing at night. So far, it’s working out pretty well.

“Well, it was you I wanted to see, anyway.” He frowns. “I’ve just had the contract through for the Danny Kovitz deal. Very demanding, this friend of yours. He’s specified first-class travel, a suite at Claridge’s, a limo for his personal use, unlimited San Pellegrino ‘stirred, to take the bubbles out’…”

I stifle a giggle. That is so typical of Danny.

“He’s a big, important designer,” I remind Eric. “Talented people all have their little quirks.”

“‘For the duration of the creative process,’” Eric reads aloud, “‘Mr. Kovitz will require a bowl of at least ten inches in diameter, filled with jelly beans. No green ones.’ I mean, what is this nonsense?” He flicks the paper in exasperation. “What’s he expecting, that someone’s just going to sit for hours, removing green jelly beans and disposing of them?”

Ooh. I love green jelly beans.

“I don’t mind taking care of that,” I say casually.

“Fine.” Eric sighs. “Well, all I can say is, I hope all this effort and money is worth it.”

“It will be!” I say, surreptitiously touching the wooden desk for luck. “Danny’s the hottest designer around! He’ll come up with something totally brilliant and directional and now. And everyone will flock to the store. I promise!”

I really, really hope I’m right.

As Eric stalks off again I wonder whether to call Danny and see if he’s had any ideas yet. But before I can do so, my cell phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” comes Luke’s voice. “It’s me.”

“Oh, hi!” I lean back in my chair, ready to have a chat. “Hey, I’ve just been hearing about Danny’s contract. You’ll never guess what—”

“Becky, I’m afraid I can’t make this afternoon.”

“What?” My smile slips away.

This afternoon is our first prenatal class. It’s the one that birth partners come to, and we do breathing and make friends for life. And Luke promised to be there. He promised.

“I’m sorry.” He seems distracted. “I know I said I’d be there, but there’s a…crisis at work.”

“A crisis?” I sit up, concerned.

“Not a crisis,” he amends at once. “It’s just…something’s happened which isn’t so good. It’ll be fine. Just a hiccup.”

“What’s happened?”

“Just…a minor internal dispute. I won’t go into it. But I’m really sorry about this afternoon. I wanted to be there.” He does sound genuinely torn up. There’s no point getting cross with him.

“It’s OK.” I hide a sigh. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Couldn’t someone else go with you? Suze, perhaps?”

That’s an idea. I was Suze’s birth partner, after all. We’re pretty close friends. And it would be nice to have some company.

“Maybe.” I nod. “So, will you still be all right for this evening?”

Tonight we’re going out with Venetia and her boyfriend and all Luke’s old friends from Cambridge. I’ve been really looking forward to it; in fact, I’m having my hair blow-dried especially.

“Hope so. I’ll keep you posted.”

“OK. See you later.”

I ring off and am about to dial Suze’s number, when I remember she’s taking Ernie to some new playgroup this afternoon. So she won’t be able to make it. I lean back in my chair, thinking hard. I could just go on my own; I mean, I’m not scared of a bunch of pregnant women, am I?

Or else…

I pick up my phone again and speed-dial a number.

“Hey, Mum,” I say as soon as I get through. “Are you doing anything this afternoon?”

The prenatal class is being held in a house in Islington and is called Choices, Empowerment, Open Minds, which I think is a really good title. I definitely have an open mind. As I walk along the street toward the house, I see Mum pull up in her Volvo and park — after about eight attempts, a small crash with a dustbin, and the help of a lorry driver who gets out of his cab to guide her in.

“Hi, Mum!” I call as she gets out at last, looking a bit flustered. She’s wearing smart white trousers, a navy blazer, and shiny patent loafers.