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‘I thought so,’ she grinned. ‘More Audrey Hepburn than Lance Armstrong. I have my Peggy Guggenheim in my bag too,’ she said, pulling out a large pair of cream framed sunglasses. ‘But I try to match my glasses with my disguises.’
‘Ah, it must be exhausting being a style icon,’ he said, turning the key and setting off. ‘Although where we’re going, you won’t need them.’
She looked at him suspiciously. Matt had been vague about their destination on the phone, only saying that no paparazzi would think to go there.
Brooke felt a little thrill of excitement as they left the metropolis behind.
‘I’m surprised you ended up in book publishing,’ said Matt as they drove along.
‘Funny you should say that. I was interviewed for Vogue the other week. They asked me why I got into children’s book publishing.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Because I have an English degree and I’m not sure you can do a great deal else with it. Plus the books that have had the most impact in my life are supposedly for children: Charlotte’s Web, The Giving Tree, even Tolkien.’
‘It’s a good answer, but is it true?’
She smiled. ‘The truth is I fell into it. After I graduated, my friend’s mother fixed me up with work experience at Yellow Door. I took it mainly because it seemed like a nice way to make a living without working for the family company and being constantly compared to my workaholic sister Liz. Then I found out I loved publishing, so when they offered me an editorial assistant’s position after my work experience stint, I jumped at it.’
‘I bet your mother didn’t like that.’
‘The strange thing is, I really don’t think she cared. Maybe because she already had William, Sean, and Brooke working for the company. Maybe because she thought publishing would be better for me.’
‘I can’t imagine she just shrugged, though.’
‘She said ‘Brooke, publishing is a very nice career for a girl looking for a suitable husband. And ever since I got together with David, she keeps reminding me that Jackie Onassis was an editor at Doubleday. If it’s good enough for Jackie … ’
Matt laughed.
‘Well, if David does get to be president and you’re his first lady, think of all the secrets you’ll find out, like who really killed Kennedy.’
‘Jack or Bobby?’
‘Both. And find out about Roswell too.’
‘Alien autopsies?’ She grinned. ‘I’d could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
The roads out of New York were quiet. Conversation was casual and untaxing – gossip about mutual friends at Brown, her upcoming wedding, and life at Yellow Door.
Glancing at the clock on the dashboard she realized they had been driving for over two hours. Towns had thinned out to open farmland and a sign shot past announcing they were in Pennsylvania.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.
Seeing she wasn’t going to get an answer, she opened the window to let in the crisp country air. They passed through small towns with funny names: ‘Intercourse’ and ‘Bird–in–the–Hand’ zipped by, their solitary high streets crowded with soda fountains and blacksmith’s shops. Soon they were overtaking quaint farmers driving horse and buggies. If it were not for the constant presence of SUVs and pick–up trucks with tinted windows, she could almost convince herself that they had gone back in time. The penny finally dropped.
‘We’re in Amish Country,’ said Brooke, turning towards Matt.
‘Is it a really stupid idea?’ he asked. ‘You said you hate getting hassled when you go out in public, so I thought we should go where people didn’t have the slightest clue who you were.’
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. While Brooke could see that there were men with the trademark Amish spade beards and women in bonnets and pinafores, the towns still had fast–food joints and garish gift shops bristling with tourists. Brooke slipped her glasses back on.
‘I never said my idea was foolproof,’ smiled Matt.
They drove on into a valley. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced at it, keeping one eye on the road.
‘Well, I think we’re here.’
