‘Here. Just pull over here.’ Jim leaned forward and stuffed a twenty through the Plexiglas screen behind the driver. The cab slid to a halt next to the elderly couple standing at the kerb. His parents, he realised with a sudden shock.
He sighed to himself as he jumped out of the taxi. He had planned to get there early – punctuality was one of Bryn’s personal bugbears – but it seemed they had second-guessed him.
‘Hey there,’ he said, closing the door and embracing them both awkwardly. ‘I did say one, didn’t I?’
‘Your father likes to be on time, you know that,’ said Elizabeth briskly. She was wearing a bright blue trench coat, tightly knotted at the waist, and had clearly taken advantage of one of New York’s many blow-dry bars.
‘Saul used to bring me here,’ said Bryn with a scowl, nodding at the door of 21. ‘Thought we could have gone somewhere different.’
Jim smiled politely. ‘I didn’t know. Besides, I thought you’d like it. It’s a New York institution.’
He ushered them inside, wondering what his mother would have to say about the restaurant’s quirky interior – hundreds of model aeroplanes, trucks and other ephemera hanging from the roof beams – but she didn’t have a chance to comment as Gerry, the maître d’, swept forward and greeted Bryn like an old friend.
‘And this must be Mrs Johnson, a great pleasure.’
‘This is our son James,’ said Elizabeth. ‘He lives here now.’
‘Really?’ said Gerry. ‘I hope we’ll be seeing you regularly.’
Jim smiled, biting back the observation that he had been to 21 for dinner twice in the last two months and no one had got terribly excited.
Gerry escorted the group to a curved booth, Jim and Bryn on the ends, Elizabeth in the middle.
‘So, happy birthday,’ smiled Elizabeth.
‘It’s not until Sunday.’
‘I know, but we’re here to celebrate.’
‘I really appreciate you coming over. Shame you can’t stay until the big day.’
‘You don’t want your parents hanging around your fortieth birthday party.’
‘I’m not having a party,’ he laughed. ‘Not when I’ve got a hotel to get opened by November.’
‘Melissa would have planned a party for you,’ said Elizabeth, raising a brow.
‘I’m not sure a fortieth birthday is anything to celebrate. I’m just going to have a quiet dinner. Maybe go to the cinema. See if there are any reruns of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel anywhere.’
His mother smiled cynically and began to tell him about all the things they had done since they had arrived in New York the evening before: dinner with friends, then cocktails at their hotel.
‘Salman picked us up from the airport,’ said Bryn pointedly.
Jim knew there was no point reminding them that he had offered to collect them but had been told they were going straight out for dinner.
‘Have you seen Saul yet?’
Saul Black, his father’s New York agent, was long retired. Bryn would never have admitted it, but Saul was responsible for his change in fortune. Their stay in Savannah resulted in Bryn’s biggest hit – the multi-million-selling novel College, which was conceived and part-written at the Lake House.
‘We’ve only been in the country twenty-four hours,’ said Bryn, back on his short fuse.
‘You should go and see him, Jim,’ said Elizabeth softly. ‘He’d love to see you. Do you remember the superhero pen he gave you when he came to London one time?’
‘The pen is mightier than the sword. I think that was what he told me when I tried to hit him with a plastic light sabre.’
Elizabeth fished about in her small handbag, drew out an address book and began copying something on to a piece of paper.
‘I’m not going to tell him you’ll pop round if you won’t, if you’re too busy. But it would be lovely if you could go and see him.’