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Her skin had taken on a flaky texture. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her diet consisted mainly of sporadic injections of caffeine and the occasional round of buttered toast that Scarlet forced on her when it looked like she was going to faint. If she hadn’t had the wedding to distract her, she knew she’d have been looking at her sanity in the rear-view mirror.
Delia and the Cupcakes & Couture gang had done her proud. Under Delia’s astute direction they had not only completed every part of Lilac’s lingerie order to perfection but had also almost finished the blanket they intended to donate to theCranbury hospice in memory of Claire. Sophie had promised to drive straight from the wedding ceremony to Somersby so they could do this final task as a group over a few bottles of Prosecco and a feast of Tom’s wedding-inspired cupcakes.
Tom had insisted they accept his generous gift after he’d received the good news that he was to be engaged to deliver a “Cool Cupcake Cooks” after-school club at St Hilda’s starting in September. Enthusiasm for his new venture exuded from his pores and his usually self-deprecating demeanour had gone into hiding.
And Tom wasn’t the only one to have undergone a personality change over the last couple of months. If Sophie had been surprised to see the transformation in Tom, it was nothing compared to her reaction to Martha’s metamorphosis from the shy, blushing caterpillar she had first met to the vibrant, confident butterfly she had turned into. She had invested in a pair of tortoiseshell glasses and taken to wearing her hair piled on the crown of her head, teased into a mini beehive – courtesy of Marietta’s ultra-trendy hand.
But it was the phone call she had received that morning from Marcia that had blown her away. She hadn’t known whether to indulge in tears of pride or descend into a maelstrom of hilarity, and she smiled as she recalled their conversation.
‘The letter arrived this morning, Sophie. I can’t believe it’s real and not a dream! I never thought anyone would be passionate enough about my writing to take me on. Me, Marcia Jane Brown, or should I say, Clementine Johnson?’ Marcia had giggled and the sound had lightened Sophie’s heart. ‘It’s all thanks to you, Sophie. You persuaded me to submit. You had confidence in my writing when I didn’t.’
‘Well, come on – read it out, then.’ Sophie had broken off from squinting at the ragged hem of one of the wedding gartersScarlet had rejected and leaned back against her worktable as she waited to hear Marcia’s most fabulous, but well-deserved news.
‘Dear Miss Brown,
Re: “The Lustful Lancelot” by Clementine Johnson.
Thank you for your recent submission of the full-length manuscript of the above novel. You have a unique voice, and your writing style held my attention from the very first line. The plot line gripped me and the passion bursts from the pages as the story progresses. The characters are well rounded and sympathetically drawn and I am confident the novel, despite being your first in the erotic romance genre, will find commercial success.
I would therefore like to offer you a three-book deal with Entraped Erotica Press, the subsequent two perhaps as sequels to your first. Entraped is a new imprint for us, but one which is finding popularity with our readers, and your novels would enhance our current catalogue.
We suggest you ask your agent to contact us so we can further our negotiations and agree an acceptable advance.
Congratulations, Miss Brown. We look forward to a long and fruitful working relationship with Clementine Johnson.
Yours sincerely,
Jasper Smithson’
Sophie’s heart ballooned at the pleasure and exuberance that had filtered down the telephone line from Marcia that day.
‘Sophie? Sophie? Call for you. It’s Noah Drake. Again!’ called Flora, waving the office phone at Sophie from across the studio.
Scarlet flashed Flora a scorching look. ‘Flora, didn’t you hear Sophie when she—’
‘It’s okay, Scarlet, it’s not Flora’s fault,’ sighed Sophie as she sat back on her heels and wriggled her aching shoulders and stretched her neck muscles. She tucked her grown-out bob behind her ears and turned to face the youngest member of their team. ‘Flora, please just tell him that I’m busy with a client.’
‘But,’ Flora covered the mouthpiece with her palm, ‘he begged me to put you on. He says he’s calling from Germany. And, well, it’s Noah Drake… of The Razorclaws!’
Sophie couldn’t prevent a wan smile from breaching her lips. When she’d explained to Flora, after avoiding three calls in one day, that she did not want to speak to Noah, Flora’s expression had been a picture of confusion.
‘But why not? He’s gorgeous!’ she blurted.
‘Yes, he is, Flora. But he wants me to meet him for a drink and I don’t have time.’
‘But I don’t understand. Why can’t you speak to him and tell him that yourself?’
Sophie had shot a glance at Scarlet who had come to her rescue. She’d gently led Flora away to explain in as few words as possible that Sophie did not want to see Noah, nor did she want to speak to him. So, whenever he rang, she was to say, as convincingly as she could, that Sophie was busy with a client and couldn’t be disturbed. Sadly, Flora would never win any theatrical accolades for lead role in a mystery drama, as each time Noah rang the salon she had stuttered and stammered an increasingly bizarre list of excuses.
After listening to Flora stumble through another one of her epic deliveries and hang up the receiver, Scarlet turned to Sophie.
‘Why don’t you just speak to him, Soph?’ she urged. ‘You don’t have to see him, but the guy sure is keen to speak to you. I thought you said you wanted to be friends?’
‘There’s no point. I’ve explored every possible scenario until my brain cells disintegrate and my head is ready to explode. I can’t put myself through the torture of seeing Noah enveloped in the arms of some stranger who’s managed to wangle her way into his dressing room or hotel room. And how can I go touring with him? Not only do I have a business to run here, which I might add is going to get so much busier after Saturday, but there’s Gingerberry, too.’
‘Delia has managed okay these last few months, and didn’t you say that Marcia is helping out part-time, too?’
‘Yes, they are both amazing, but I’m not sure the situation will work long-term. Marcia has a publishing contract now. And did I tell you she and Tom have been out on a date? I can’t commute between Wimbledon and Somersby and then disappear off on tour with the band whenever it suits! Delia is going to need more than just a part-time helper if the lingerie side of things takes off after the wedding.’
