The Wedding Shop on Wexley Street. Rachel Dove
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Название: The Wedding Shop on Wexley Street
Автор: Rachel Dove
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
isbn: 9780008286064
isbn:
‘He said sorry.’
Cass’s lips clamped together, as though trying to ward off something unpleasant from being rammed between them, or trying to escape.
‘Oh, he’ll be sorry all right.’
Maria nodded, looking down at the engagement ring on her finger. She didn’t think for one minute he would be, but what else could she say?
‘I’m hungry,’ was all she could think of. ‘I didn’t eat a thing this morning, I didn’t want a podge in my dress.’
Her friend smiled. ‘I know just the thing to cheer you up.’
Ten minutes later, a very startled food server was taking an order from a weepy bride and a very angry woman in a flouncy peach dress. They took a booth in the back, ignoring the stares of the lunchtime crew and the mothers feeding their children a junk-food treat. Cassie put the tray down in front of them, and Maria sank her teeth into a cheeseburger, a napkin shoved into the front bodice of her couture gown, one Darcy’s mother had insisted she wear, rather than one of her own designs. A glob of ketchup dripped from the side of the napkin onto the ivory material, and Maria wiped at it half-heartedly, leaving a small red dot on the fabric. Oh well, she thought to herself. Not like I’ll be saving it for my daughter, eh? She swallowed the last of her burger and looked across at Cassie, who was shovelling fries into her mouth while barking orders into her phone. She reached for hers out of habit, before realising that her bag, containing her keys and phone, was still in the hotel. In the space of a morning, I have lost my fiancé, my home and my sanity, she thought to herself glumly. The reality of her situation dawned again, and she felt the threat of her cheeseburger coming back up. Cassie barked out a final command and stashed the phone back inside her tiny peach purse. Her face paled as she looked at the current state of her childhood bestie.
‘Maria, you doing okay?’
Maria looked across at her. ‘Cass, what the hell am I going to do?’
Cass gripped her hand in both of hers, squeezing it tight. ‘Mar, you are going to pick yourself up, get a new place, go back to work, and never speak to Arsy again.’
Maria smiled weakly at her, looking away quickly from the builder who was looking her up and down while devouring a family-sized box of chicken nuggets.
‘That easy, eh? Just like that?’
‘Yep.’ Cass’s eyes flashed with determination. ‘You can do it. And tonight,’ she continued, smiling devilishly, ‘we are going to get you very, very drunk.’
Maria rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t go out tonight. I don’t even have anything to wear.’ She looked down at her wedding dress, to point out the elephant in the room. Cassie smiled weakly.
‘No night out. PJs, boxset, and copious amounts of Chinese food and alcohol.’
Maria nodded. Not quite the night she had planned, but it sounded good right about now.
‘Deal,’ she said, slurping her vanilla shake. ‘But no Colin Firth.’
One Week Later
‘What the hell! You have got to be kidding me!’ Maria slammed the local newspaper, the Westfield Times, onto her desk and stomped over to the kettle. She stabbed at the button, throwing ingredients into a mug. She reached into the biscuit barrel, shovelling a triple chocolate cookie into her mouth, mumbling as she chewed, before turning to the wall.
‘I mean, I am the ONLY wedding planner in Westfield! The only one! How could Agatha Mayweather go elsewhere, when all she does is prattle on about community, and giving back, and fighting big corporations!’ She thrust her arms out wildly as she spun around, cookie crumbs flying from her mouth. ‘I mean, seriously! I am going to ring that woman up and give her a piece of my mind!’
‘Who are you talking to, dear?’ a voice at the door asked. Maria whirled around, seeing her part-time assistant, Lynn, standing there, a large flask in hand. Maria flushed and pointed to the wall, where a picture of her mother was framed and hung up.
‘Sorry, Lynn, I was talking to Mum. The Baxters got married again, did you know that? From Love Blooms, the florist? They had a big event on Agatha’s estate, and I wasn’t even approached to help!’
Lynn smiled kindly, closing the door against the slight breeze of the weather. It was quite autumnal already. She put the flask down on her desk and strode over to the wooden coat rack, taking off her cream faux fur coat.
‘I know, dear, they seem so happy now, and about time too. I did worry about them, when they passed the shop to Lily. Idle thumbs and all that.’ She waggled her own very busy thumbs in the air.
Maria glared at her. ‘And!?’
Lynn sat at her desk, pouring a slurp of tea from the flask into one of the many bone china mugs she kept at work. She sighed and looked at Maria as she stirred, trying to find the words.
‘Darling, Agatha didn’t want to bother you about planning a wedding when your… er… when you were supposed to be on honeymoon. Your diary was full, so she didn’t ask.’
Maria’s shoulders slumped as realisation set in. ‘She didn’t want a wedding planner who got jilted at the altar, did she?’ It came out as more of a defeated statement than a question, and Lynn’s heart went out to her. She had watched Maria grow from a tiny baby to the beautiful woman standing before her, and whenever she thought of that wretched Darcy fellow, she found herself planning grisly things against his man parts with a crochet needle.
She waved her hand, cutting off Maria’s rant. ‘No love, not at all. No one thinks that.’
‘Oh no?’ Maria shouted, dashing over to the appointments diary. ‘So how come I have no bookings then, for the rest of the month? Eh?’
Lynn sighed slowly. ‘Maria, I know you’re upset, but think about it. The diary is empty because you were supposed to be on holiday, that’s all.’ She took a sip of tea and eyed her furtively, obviously expecting horns to sprout from her head at any moment. Maria sagged over the diary, deflated. ‘Oh,’ she said softly. ‘Of course, yes… sorry, Lynn.’
Lynn raised her hand to wave off her employer’s apology. ‘Don’t give it a thought. Why don’t you take the time off anyway – go away somewhere or something? Nice change of scene, eh?’
Maria shook her head. ‘I should be in St Lucia now. Somehow a week in some caravan in Skegness on my tod just doesn’t sound appealing.’ Lynn opened her mouth to speak again, but the phone on her desk started to ring. She smiled kindly at Maria and dealt with the customer. Maria went to the just-boiled kettle, pouring herself a huge mug of steaming hot coffee. As she added more sugar, she had to admit, if only in her own head, that she shouldn’t be at work. She felt like the angry wedding performer in that Adam Sandler movie. A movie she loved, and now couldn’t watch for fear of murdering someone, or herself, with a noose made from the finest lace she possessed. She should be glad she didn’t own a hardware store, the way she was feeling, but Lynn was right: work was going to be tricky, to say СКАЧАТЬ