The Wedding Invite (Lakeview) (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 6) (3 page)

“OK, OK, I’m sorry,” she said, giggling. “You’re a man of many talents – really.”

“That’s more like it.” Ken stood up, and straightened his tie. “Now, no more skiving, please,” he said, feigning a bossy tone. “It looks to me as though you have plenty of work to do.”

“I
was
working before I was so rudely interrupted,” Nicola countered, wide-eyed.

He was no sooner out the door than her extension buzzed again and this time it was Laura.

“Is there any chance I could pop down to see you tonight?” Nicola’s best friend asked. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Of course you can … no wait – I’m baby-sitting and I told Kerry that I’d take her to the cinema in Dundrum. So unless you want to come along –”

“Nah, I’ll leave you to it,” Laura said quickly. “I’m not really in the mood for the latest all-singing, all-dancing Disney extravaganza.”

“What’s wrong?” She remembered what Ken had said about Laura sounding harassed.

Her friend grunted. “It’s this blasted wedding – my mother is really getting on my nerves about it.
Now
she’s not happy with the photographer I’ve booked because he’s” – she affected a sing-song tone – “‘supposed to be a bit of letch’. Nicola, I went to school with Kieran Molloy and he’s as gay as Christmas. As far as I’m concerned he can letch all he wants.”

Nicola smiled, but she could understand her friend’s frustration. Laura and her partner Neil had become engaged at Christmas, and had promptly set the wedding date for the coming September. They wanted a simple no-frills, fuss-free wedding, something that Maureen Fanning couldn’t tolerate. Not when she’d been dreaming about orchestrating her eldest daughter’s Big Day for most of her life.

But there was a good reason for the couple’s no-fuss approach. Neil’s mother had recently discovered a malignant lump in her breast, and was about to undergo hospital treatment. Neil was anxious for his mother to have something to concentrate on other than her illness and wanted the wedding to happen sooner rather than later – just in case.

“Well, you could take off and get married yourselves, just the two of you,” said Nicola.

Like I did
, she added silently.

“Are you mad? My mother would have a heart attack. She’s bad enough as it is.”

Nicola frowned. It wasn’t like Laura to be so down in the dumps.

“Well don’t let her get to you. As long as you and Neil are happy with the wedding plans, then what else matters?”

“Yes, but you know my mother,” Laura groaned. “And, unfortunately, Neil isn’t much help.”

Neil Connolly was as easygoing as they came, and one of the few people who could actually handle Maureen Fanning without resorting to extreme violence.

“To be honest, he’s just too busy with the agency. At this very moment he’s off on some fact-finding trip to Mauritius – lucky git.”

Neil was a partner in his family’s Dublin travel agency, and the business was currently attempting to break into the more exclusive faraway-shores market.

“Anyway, the wedding isn’t the real reason I wanted to talk to you,” Laura said cryptically.

“Oh?” Her tone piqued Nicola’s interest. “I’m intrigued.”

“Well, if I can’t see you tonight, I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait.” There was a slight smile in her voice.

“That’s not fair. What’s going on, Laura?”

“Nope – I’d prefer to tell you face to face.”

“Ah, now I’m dying to know!” Nicola thought quickly. “OK – why don’t you come tomorrow night? Helen’s over anyway, so you might as well join us.” Nicola, Laura and Helen had been friends for many years but lately, Nicola thought, hadn’t had many opportunities to get together. It would be nice for the three of them to have a bit of a natter.

But Laura hesitated and for a moment Nicola wondered if she had said the wrong thing. “Unless you’d prefer to leave it for another night – just the two of us,” she offered.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll bring a bottle of wine, will I?”

“Do. We’ll have a bit of chat, get the latest on Helen’s new man and, oh – I’ll be able to show you
my
new wheels.”

“Not again,” Laura teased. “What did you get this time – something along the lines of a Ferrari, maybe?”

“I
wish.
I’d better go – I’ve another call coming in. See you tomorrow, round about eight?

“Great, I’m looking forward to it,” Laura rang off, already sounding in much better form.

Nicola hit the other line. Was she
ever
going to get anything done today?

“Can you come down to the pool?” Sally sounded worried. “It’s Deirdre Hennessey and her boys again. You won’t believe what they’ve done this time.”

L
aura replaced
the receiver and smiled. As always, she felt a lot better after speaking to Nicola – it was a pity really that they couldn’t meet up tonight.

But, tomorrow would do just as well, and she hadn’t seen Helen in ages. Nicola had mentioned that their friend had a new man but, where Helen was concerned, that was hardly surprising. Their glamorous friend went through men like Bewleys went through coffee, and most men adored her – the deliciously attractive combination of blonde hair, olive skin and dark, ochre eyes almost impossible to resist. Helen Jackson was everything Laura wanted to be – glamorous, effortlessly thin, successful and supremely confident.

Of course, the men Helen attracted were always equally glamorous, if you could use that term for a man. Laura picked up the framed picture of her fiancé. Poor old Neil – glamorous he wasn’t.

Laura had met him in Penney’s in O’Connell Street, on an unexpectedly showery Friday morning (goodness knows why unexpected, she thought now – in Ireland showery days were almost mandatory), when they both tried to buy the last available umbrella.

She shook her head. If Helen had a new man, it wouldn’t last a wet or even a
dry
week. Relationships just didn’t seem to be her hing – not these days anyway – and no matter how good-looking he might be, there was very little chance that she would commit. Laura smiled ruefully. At home in Glengarrah, the Carlow town from where they both hailed, Helen always attracted the guys with film-star looks while Laura got the ones who looked like extras from
Emmerdale
.

Not that Neil was all that bad. Dressed in his dark suits and brightly coloured ties, he was attractive in his own kind of way, but her fiancé was unlikely to be asked to one day drop everything and star in the Diet Coke ad. An ad for Mr Muscle bathroom-cleaner, maybe, but with his slight frame, definitely
not
Diet Coke.

Still, the thought of Helen being at Nicola’s in Lakeview tomorrow didn’t exactly fill her with excitement. Although she and Helen had been friends for as long as Laura could remember, they no longer had that much in common, and their friendship was now based more on past association than any real closeness. It was a terrible pity but, Laura thought, if it weren’t for Nicola, she was certain that she and Helen would have drifted apart long ago – and she didn’t think her old friend would be all that bothered.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost three – she’d better ring the stationery company about their wedding invites, having promised the designer she’d let her know their choice of design before the end of this week.

When Nicola had recommended an up and coming stationery designer from the charming Wicklow village in which she lived for their wedding invites, Laura had worried in case the cards would be all doves, ribbons and old-fashioneed.

But thankfully that hadn’t been the case.

Amazing Day Designs were indeed amazing. She and Neil had enjoyed their recent visit to the store in Lakeview, more than Laura had expected. Debbie had produced some beautiful sample invitations, having already personalised some of them with Laura and Neil’s wedding details. To Laura’s artistic eye, the originality and quality of the work was excellent.

Her call was answered on the second ring. “Amazing Days, Debbie speaking.”

“Hi Debbie, Laura Fanning here. I just wanted to let you know our choice for the invites.”

“Laura, hi,” Debbie said warmly. “Thanks for getting back to me. Well, what have you decided?”

After much indecision, Laura and Neil had settled upon a traditional ivory and gold parchment design with separate RSVP cards, both of which Laura had to admit were utterly stunning. After double-checking the details, Debbie advised that Laura’s choice was in stock, and the invites would be ready within a couple of weeks.

“Just give me a quick call before you come down to collect them, just to be sure,” she said pleasantly, before ringing off and leaving Laura thinking what an absolute pleasure it had been dealing with Amazing Days. Nicola was right to be ringing their praises.

It was such a pity that the rest of the wedding preparations were turning out to be a lot more hassle than she’d expected. Her mother was driving her absolutely demented and couldn’t accept the fact that she wasn’t inviting the whole of Glengarrah to the wedding.

She’d been living away from the village for so long now that she barely knew too many of the residents, and many of her old school friends had moved on too. So when Laura had announced that it would be a small wedding – close friends and family only, and that in no circumstances would any of Maureen’s fourteen free-loading siblings be invited, her mother had been appalled.

“But it’s a big family day!” Maureen had moaned, mentally fretting over what all the relations would say about her.

Still, there was no point in worrying about it now. Laura had a lot more on her mind. Her boss would be leaving the office for the afternoon soon so she’d better get going. Laura shut down the spreadsheet program on her PC, opened her word processor and began to type, feeling a tiny tingle of anticipation as she did.

Then she paused, thinking again about tomorrow night. What would they make of her news? Would they be pleased, supportive, enthusiastic – or would her friends think she had gone completely mad? Laura hoped not. She was sure; no, she was
certain
that she was making the right decision.

She had known all along that Neil would support her. He didn’t need any convincing – he’d been all for it and his blatant enthusiasm had given Laura the courage to think very seriously about what she was about to do. She was certain she could do this; in fact, she knew she should have done it a long time ago.

Although it was a scary prospect, Laura didn’t want to put it off any longer. She
couldn’t
put it off any longer. The timing was important. She had all the groundwork done, knew exactly what would be expected of her, and what sacrifices she would have to make. And she was more than prepared to make those sacrifices. Ideally, she should maybe wait until after the wedding, but she knew that she couldn’t wait that long. She had waited long enough.

Anyway, there was no time like the present.

She spell-checked her document before printing it out, then reread it, signed it, and after a few nervous moments put it into an envelope.

Then Laura stood up from her desk, took a deep breath and – letter in hand – walked resolutely towards her manager’s office.

W
hat colour clutch
-bag to take? Helen Jackson held one black and one silver against her plum-coloured satin, Maria Grachvogel dress. She adjusted the plunging neckline to ensure it didn’t expose quite so much of her chest. She didn’t want Richard gaping at her cleavage all night – or did she?

Helen smiled at her reflection.

Tonight was definitely the night. She and Richard Moore had been seeing one another for quite some time now, and she was certain that it was time to take their relationship further. The thought of it all made her more nervous than she would normally allow herself to be.

This, she thought, was probably due to the fact that she liked Richard a lot – actually,
more
than a lot –and definitely
much
more than any of the others she had been out with in recent years. Richard was intelligent, good-humoured and
very
sexy. Helen worked as business consultant manager for XL Business Software in Sandymount, and had met Richard after his recruitment company had sought their advice. Throughout their first meeting, Helen had been as she always was with a client – brisk, professional but unashamedly flirtatious. As she had so often told her sales staff, feminism didn’t earn anyone enough bonuses to keep them in two-bedroom seafront apartments on Dublin’s Southside.

But Helen didn’t have to force herself all that much to flirt with a man who looked like Richard Moore. Shortly after their first meeting, and a few equally coquettish phone consultations, the company had upgraded their office network, and Richard had asked her out.

Helen had enjoyed herself immensely each time they went out together, and although there had been more than a few passionate encounters, so far they hadn’t slept together. Helen took this as a positive sign. It meant that he wasn’t just after her thirty-year-old body, and was just as interested in her as a person.

Yes, tonight would be the night, Helen decided.

Maybe finally she would have someone to take the place of the empty chair that positioned itself permanently opposite her, whenever there were any formal get-togethers. Her friends all sat across from their respective partners, as did her colleagues, whereas Helen always got stuck with the empty chair. In fairness, she and the chair were by now way beyond first-name terms, and indeed over the last few years had become best buddies.

She smiled ruefully, and once again concentrated on the task in hand.

Deciding that with this dress the silver bag looked infinitely more glamorous than the black one, Helen rummaged through her wardrobe, and seconds later emerged with a pair of spaghetti-strap mules that were ridiculously high-heeled. OK, they were only
imitation
Manolos but, more importantly, they matched the bag perfectly. For every hand, clutch, and shoulder-bag she possessed, Helen
always
had a matching pair of shoes. When the supermarkets stopped giving out free plastic bags, her friends joked that they would soon be seeing Helen shopping in Superquinn wearing a pair of shoes that matched her ‘Bag for Life’.

Anyway, Helen thought, everyone knew that it was bad luck to wear mismatched accessories. Heaven only knew how Laura got away with wearing those silver and gold jewellery combos she put together in her spare time.

Helen ran a brush through her freshly blow-dried locks, and checked her watch. It was almost seven, and she was meeting Richard in town at half past. She’d better get a move on – who knew how long it would take to get a taxi into town on a Friday night. She picked up her bag and coat, tottered downstairs, and slammed the front door behind her – the impact shuddering through the large, empty apartment.

“
Y
ou look amazing
,” Richard smiled appreciatively, as Helen wobbled unsteadily to where he stood waiting outside the restaurant.

Her heart soared as he leant forward and kissed her softly on the lips. Those silver heels certainly hadn’t been designed with Dublin’s unevenly cobbled footpaths in mind, she thought, following him inside, but it had been worth the discomfort. Thank goodness she hadn’t worn her precious Jimmy Choos. Although it was a possibility that one of these days she might actually have to wear them
outside
of the apartment.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, considering you’ve come straight from the office.” Helen nudged him playfully, trying to dispel the rising butterflies in her stomach. Richard
did
look good. His short dark hair had been recently cropped, and to her delight, Helen noticed there was a slight covering of stubble on his tanned chin. In her opinion, there was nothing sexier than a stubbled chin. Not a beard, mind, Helen drew the line at beards, and she really
hated
that freshly-shaven Mummy’s boy look. Stubble was just perfect.

“What time are we eating?” she asked, glancing around the packed restaurant.

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Hopefully soon. I haven’t eaten anything since midday.”

As if on cue, a waitress approached and called them to their table, which fortunately, Helen noted, was situated towards the rear of the room in a dark, quiet corner.

All the better for intimacy.

Helen’s gaze raked over the menu, but she found that she was so nervous she could barely see what was written on it. She watched Richard out of the corner of her eye. He was studying the wine list intently – probably trying to decide between his personal favourites: Australian or South African Cabernet. It was a little scary actually: they had only been together for a short time, but yet Helen could read him like the
Cosmo
fashion pages. It had been the same with her previous partner, Jamie, who was as open and transparent as any man could get. Too transparent, probably. Jamie had been so open that he had one day informed Helen that he felt tied down, was bored with the rat race, and was taking off for a while to South Africa to ‘find himself’.

That was almost four years ago, and since then Jamie had not only found himself, but – handily enough for him, Helen thought – someone else. OK, she decided, seeing Richard close the wine list, if he orders Australian it’s a good omen, and South African is
definitely
a bad one.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asked pleasantly.

“Yes, thanks. Helen?” Ever the gentleman, Richard waited while she deliberated over lamb or pork. She eventually decided upon the lamb and Richard ordered medium-rare fillet steak.

“Wine?” the waitress enquired.

Helen smiled at Richard. “I’d better let the sommelier decide,” she said, knowing that Richard considered himself a bit of a wine expert.

Please, please, pick the Australian.
Despite herself, Helen’s heart began to pound as she waited for his response. Richard waved the menu away and smiled at the waitress. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just throw caution to the winds tonight. Can you recommend anything?”

The girl paused for a moment. “Well, considering your choice of main course, I would definitely say the South African Guardian Peak Cabernet. It’s one of the most popular wines on our list, and it’s the perfect accompaniment to red meat dishes – lamb in particular,” she added, smiling at Helen.

Damn, damn, damn.

Richard beamed at her. “Perfect, we’ll have that then – thank you.”

The waitress collected their menus and left the table, Helen berating herself for being so foolish as to think that the bloody wine she and Richard were having for their meal should affect their relationship. She’d really have to try and stop with all this signs and omens nonsense. That was the kind of game only a child would play.

Another butterfly (there’s always a latecomer) rose up inside Helen’s stomach.

“So what have you been up to this week?” Richard reached across the table, and took her hand in his.

“Not much. Got the Carver Property and the Tip-Top Distribution contracts finalised and countersigned yesterday.” She feigned a shrug, and hid a smile. “A quiet week, really.”

“You did not.” Richard gave a disbelieving guffaw. “Bloody hell, you’re something else, Helen Jackson, do you know that?”

Helen had told him previously that XL had been chasing both contracts for some time, and there was a real danger that Carver’s in particular would opt for a rival consultancy. At the very last minute, and following an especially persuasive meeting with Helen, Ronnie Carver had changed his mind and signed a five-year contract with XL. Which meant that Helen could look forward to what could only be described as an obese bonus cheque at the end of the month. She filled him in on the story, while they made inroads on their starters.

“Wow,” Richard smiled and clinked her glass, “I think I’ll keep you. The ultimate career woman, huh?”

The little voice inside her brain was deafening.
Tell him, tell him now.

Helen took a deep breath.
Relax,
said the voice. Y
ou two get on well together and he really likes you. What difference could it make?

She gulped a mouthful of wine, and set her glass back down on the table.

“Richard?” she asked softly and the words were out before she could stop herself. “How do you feel about children?”

Damn,
the voice berated her.
It wasn’t supposed to come out so quickly – you were
supposed to ease it into the conversation
.
Typical you, and your stupid size four-an’-a-halves.

Richard looked as though she had just asked him to eat a bull’s testicle.

“Children?” he repeated warily. “What kind of a question is that?”

Helen felt completely deflated. It was going to happen again – she just knew it.

“I mean, do you like children?” She tried to lighten the tone. “I mean, by any chance do you have some of your own or … or would you
like
some of your own?”

Oh no, this was getting worse by the minute, she thought.

Richard now looked like he had been presented with a
plate
of bulls’ testicles.

“Helen, what the hell are you talking about? You know that I’ve never been married …” Before she could reply, his face changed. “Hang on a second … are you up the pole?” he hissed at her. “Because if you are, and you think you can trap
me
into fatherhood, then I think you’ve forgotten something. I don’t know what the hell
you’ve
been doing but, for the record, we haven’t even shagged properly –”

“Forget it, Richard.” Helen reached for her bag, red-faced and in shock. How dare he? If he would behave like this over a mention of children, how would he behave when he knew the truth? What had happened to the perfect gentleman?

Richard softened when he saw her expression. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that … it’s just I know I couldn’t have –”

“It’s not what you think, Richard – I’m not pregnant,” Helen interjected. “Not any longer, anyway.”

He looked at her with a bemused expression.

What the hell, she might as well put him out of his misery. “I have a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter that I haven’t told you about. As you and I were getting to know one another better, and becoming –
I
thought – more serious, I felt that you should know.”

“Helen … I … I’m sorry …” His voice trailed off, but by his expression, Helen knew all there was to know.

They were finished.

The usual story.

At that moment, the waitress appeared with their main course.

“I think I should go,” Helen stood up.

“No, stay – please. Tell me about your – your daughter.” The way he said it, it was as though Helen had just told him she had a severe case of leprosy.

She wasn’t about to stay just for the sake of it, not this time – not ever again. She’d played out this scenario too many times for one lifetime.

“No, I think I
will
go, actually. Thanks anyway – for dinner.”

Richard nodded slowly. “You’re welcome.” Suddenly he was being as formal as he had been that first day in her office. “I’ll phone you?” he added, almost automatically and certainly, Helen knew, untruthfully.

“Sure.”

Her feet must have been feeling sorry for her, because Helen didn’t feel them once as she walked dazedly up Grafton Street and towards the taxi rank. She tried to bite back tears as she got into the cab she had hailed with surprising ease. Then again, it was only nine o’clock. No one out enjoying themselves in Dublin on a Friday night came home early. No-one but sad, spinster, single mothers like Helen.

Some twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up outside Nicola’s house, and Helen asked the driver to wait.

Soon after, she reappeared accompanied by a drowsy-eyed three-year-old version of herself, the little girl’s hair tossed, and her face red from pillow-marks. Helen knew Nicola had been surprised to see her back so early, but thankfully her friend knew better than to ask any questions.

Helen put her still half-asleep daughter in the back seat of the cab, closed the door and sat in the front passenger seat.

Tonight, she thought, staring straight ahead, and making it plain to the taxi-driver that she wasn’t interested in idle conversation, she couldn’t bear having the child near her.