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Rosie gave Lauren a watery smile as she stood from her chair and moved over to the floor-to-ceiling window where white gauze curtains floated like a bride’s veil in the light breeze.As she battled to calm her emotional demons, she realised that serenity would play for the opposing team on this her beloved sister and Jacob’s wedding day, and for that she was saddened. Not only were there a myriad of things that could go awry, despite her meticulous attention to detail in the arduous preparations for this auspicious day, but Lauren was right – Hannah’s demandshadincreased to scatter-gun proportions since her arrival the previous evening for the rehearsal dinner.
That morning as she had dragged herself from the single bed in what had been her childhood home, her limbs stiff and her head pulsating, anxiety had twisted knots into her stomach. Her baby sister’s wedding day! She should be suffused with overwhelming joy, but as she had stepped into the freezing relief of the old-fashioned shower, she recognised that in the place where happiness should be, loneliness smouldered.
She was ten years older than Hannah and she’d had to almost beg Edward to be her date for her sister’s wedding.
She sighed, making a huge effort to shake off the melancholy that had draped its tendrils across her shoulders. In her chosen wedding dress and with her loose platinum waves rippling down her back, Hannah had presented every inch the Princess Bride image she had coveted since her teenage years. And at least Lauren, her one and only true ally, was there to bolster her flagging spirits, not to mention don her matching, saccharine-sweet bridesmaid’s dress.
Rosie smiled when she thought back to the impish smile of her best friend, so bohemian in her own choice of attire, at the final dress fitting. Lauren never counted calories or fell under the spell of the latest designer-inspired craze, and she eschewed the emulation of the images peddled in fashion magazines of the supposedly perfect female form. Her idea of a blissful girly afternoon together was to trawl the city’s thrift shops, delvinginto the racks of vintage clothing and picking out items she could up-cycle. She frequently unearthed pieces of jewellery she could dismantle and reassemble, and even her engagement ring had been “previously loved”, much to Brett’s delight as his firefighter’s salary would never stretch as far as Tiffany’s.
She truly hoped that like Lauren, Hannah had met her Prince Charming and that this was the fairy tale wedding she had wished for. She prayed that she had lost her heart to Jacob, a guy fifteen years her senior, and was not simply settling for a convenient companion who had the means to support her in the manner to which she had become accustomed.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Lauren, a note of concern in her voice.
‘I’m fine, and for what it’s worth, you’re right.’
A strain of music floated on the air and Rosie’s gaze went immediately to the pristine lawn below the bedroom window where a string quartet – originally a five-piece but now minus the cellist who’d reportedly downed a bottle of Jack Daniels after an exhilarating performance at the Met the previous evening – had struck the first chord of a rendition of Dangerously in Love by Beyoncé, Hannah’s favourite artist.
Rosie turned on her heels, and as she made her way to the kidney-shaped stool in front of the dressing table, she was ambushed by a wave of exhaustion. Insomnia had plagued her for as long as she could remember, but it had been especially potent the previous night, as the tortuous hours of darkness stretched before her. Her perpetual lack of sleep had ensured the retention of the dark smudges she could now see beneath her gold-flecked eyes that even the thick layer of foundation Lauren had smoothed onto her face couldn’t disguise.
With a sigh, she realised there would be no rest this weekend either, with the ceremony and then what she suspected wouldbe riotous partying until the small hours of the morning to the live band Hannah had demanded at huge cost. As she shook her freshly-teased caramel curls from her eyes, she thought of Edward – the handsome, charismatic,sexyman in her life. A smile played at her lips, and she experienced an uptick in her spirits as she anticipated a whole weekend by his side, showing him off to her father, and to his friends Dot and Arnie who had been so supportive of the family after… after…
To her relief, her reverie was spliced into by a frantic hammering on the bedroom door, followed by the urgent gravelly tones of her father’s voice.
‘Rosie? Rosie? Are you in there?’
She exchanged a glance with Lauren, then dashed to the door to let him in.
‘Hey, Dad, what’s—’
‘Have you seen Hannah? The hairdresser needs herright now, and it seems she’s done one of her disappearing acts again.’
Chapter Two
Rosie caught Lauren’s eyeroll as she hooked her arm through her father’s and guided him to the chair she had recently vacated, her heart hammering a symphony of panic against her ribcage causing her thoughts to spin.
Typical Hannah!
Hadn’t she spent every spare moment of the last three months of her life organising Hannah’s wedding so that it would run with the military precision she was famed for at the office? All Hannah had to do was slip into her wedding dress, plaster a smile on her face, and turn up on time! So where was she?
‘You didn’t tell her about Aunt Bernice, did you?’
Her father’s face was creased with worry as he leaned forward to kiss Rosie’s cheek, sending a whiff of the baby shampoo he still used into the air between them and delivering a painful jolt of nostalgia to her nostrils. She paused to take a deep breath in an effort to corral her emotions that were so near to the surface that day.
‘No, Dad, I didn’t. You know we agreed not to tell her until after the wedding.’
‘I’ll go and find her, Mr Hamilton. Don’t worry, she can’t have gone far.’
‘Thank you, Lauren, that’s very kind of you.’
Lauren nodded at Rosie, then hitched up her voluminous skirt and strode from the room, a look of determination in her moss-green eyes.
Rosie dropped into the seat opposite her father and reached out to lace her fingers through his, shocked to the core when she realised that his hands were shaking. He looked so suave in his charcoal-grey morning suit and baby-pink cravat, his back erect, his still-thick silver hair and beard neatly trimmed in honour of his youngest daughter’s wedding day. But he had a lot on his mind. Not only did he have the responsibility of walking his beloved daughter down the aisle, but it was only the third day in twenty-five years that the Hamilton family’s grocery store had been closed to the service of Stonington Beach residents.
She recalled the sharp pang of regret she’d experienced at the dress rehearsal when she’d witnessed her father’s slower, more deliberate movements. It had occurred to her that now Hannah was to be married, maybe she should consider returning to Stonington Beach to look after her father and help him – and his loyal friend, Dot, who had worked part-time at the store for as long as she could remember – especially when she’d seen how shabby around the edges the place was starting to look.
Would such a step-change relieve her of her constant anxiety about her father’s health, and the ever-present fear that she’d lose him too? Would it alleviate the heavy weight of apprehension that pressed against her chest, and perhaps even allow her to make some of those human connections she found so elusive in Manhattan?
Gosh, no!
