I head off to the back of the store, where there are racks and racks of records. As I flick through them, I smile as I breathe in the smell. It’s almost as good as the smell of books. Almost, but not quite. In the end I pick a record by someone called Big Bill Broonzy, just because I love the name. I take the record over to the counter to pay.
“Awesome choice, ma’am,” the guy behind the counter says with a wide grin.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling very proud that I’ve actually gone into a vintage record store in Brooklyn and made an “awesome choice”—even if it is entirely by accident.
The man’s smile grows even broader. “Cute accent. Where are you all from?”
“England.”
“No way!” He grabs my hand and shakes it enthusiastically. “Well, that just made my day.”
I look at his greying dreadlocks and the silver skull on the chain around his neck. He looks so interesting.
“Would you . . . ? Could I . . . ? Would it be OK if I took a picture of you?”
He instantly grins. “Why, yes, of course, ma’am. How do you want me?” He starts puffing out his chest.
“Just as you were, looking at the record would be great,” I say.
The man re-creates the pose and I take the shot. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He hands me a business card from a pile on the counter. “And when you get back to England you can tell people you met Slim Daniels.”
“I will,” I say, glowing with newfound confidence. I’m no longer a stupid schoolgirl who always makes mistakes, I’m the kind of person who makes awesome choices in Brooklyn record stores and takes photos of people with names like Slim Daniels. Nothing—not even when I take a step backward and almost knock over a display stand—can ruin my happiness.
• • •
When Sadie Lee and I get back home, Mum is playing an elaborate game of princesses with Bella in the living room, and Dad and Noah are in the kitchen, preparing some veggies for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner. They’re laughing their heads off as we come in. This is good—very good.
“I thought I’d make us something light for dinner tonight,” Sadie Lee says, putting on her apron. “Don’t want to overdo it before the feast tomorrow.”
“Good plan,” Dad says. “Just let me know if I can help with anything.”
“That would be lovely,” Sadie Lee says. “I was thinking of making a chicken Caesar salad.”
“That happens to be one of my specialities,” Dad says proudly.
“It is,” I say. “Can’t wait.”
“Oh no,” Sadie Lee says, turning to me. “I’m afraid you won’t be eating with us.”
“That’s right,” Noah says.
“What?” I look from Sadie Lee to Dad to Noah. They’re all grinning at me like they’re in on a private joke. “Why won’t I be eating with you?”
“We don’t want you ruining your appetite before the big day,” Noah says.
“We thought it would be best if you went on a fast for the next twenty-four hours,” Dad says.
“What?!”
Noah starts laughing his head off. “Don’t look so stressed. You won’t be having dinner because we are going to be having Picnic Round Two.”
“Is it all ready?” Sadie Lee asks him.
Noah nods and takes hold of my hand. “So, if you’d like to come with me, ma’am, I shall accompany you to your picnic blanket.”
I look at them all and laugh. “Oh my God, that was so mean!”
I follow Noah out into the hallway and down a flight of stairs into the basement of the house.
The basement is like our living room back at home, with a really relaxed and laid-back vibe. There are two squishy sofas covered with cushions and throws and a huge flat-screen TV on the wall. Two brightly colored lava lamps are bubbling away on side tables, casting the room in an orangey glow. The basement’s way bigger than our living room, though, stretching back the entire length of the house. At the very far end, I can just make out a pool table. The tartan blanket is laid out in front of the sofas, covered in plates of the most amazing picnic food.
“This looks fantastic!” I say, turning to Noah.
“Well, I figured after yesterday I needed to pull out all the stops,” he says with a grin.
We both sit down on either side of the blanket.
“So, did your friend get back OK?” Noah asks.
I suddenly realize that I haven’t bothered to check my phone since I got here. Elliot should have landed by now. I think of my phone upstairs in my bag and I contemplate going to get it, but I really don’t want to disrupt the picnic for a second time, especially when Noah’s gone to so much trouble.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good.” Noah glances up at the TV before looking back at me. “I was wondering . . .”
“Yes?”
“It’s just that when my parents were alive we had this tradition on Christmas Eve and I’d really like to do it again—with you.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“We’d always watch the movie It’s a Wonderful Life together.”
As It’s a Wonderful Life is one of my favorite movies of all time, this is a total no-brainer. “I’d love to!”
So Noah puts the movie on and we sit on the floor, leaning against the sofa, with the picnic spread out before us.