Three Weddings and a Baby (2 page)

Her father swatted at a large orange smudge on his lapel with a handkerchief.

‘I don’t know how you managed to avoid it,’ he said wearily. ‘She gets me every single time.’

‘It’s a manoeuvre I’ve perfected over the years. Be nice to me and I might even teach it to you one day.’

Her father grunted. ‘Oh, yes? And just how much will that set me back?’

‘Nothing,’ Jennie replied, and leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek, giving the orange smudge on his chest a wide berth. ‘I told you the day I borrowed the start-up money for my business that it would be the last time I’d sponge off the old man.’

Her father gave another grunt. One of the I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it variety, then he looked her up and down.

‘I must say, despite my reservations about wearing second-hand stuff—’

‘It’s
vintage
. Like the stuff in your wine cellar. Supposed to get better as it gets older.’ She batted her lashes and gave him her sweetest look. ‘Just like you, Daddy.’

His mouth folded into a rueful smile. ‘Impossible child.’

‘You wouldn’t have me any other way. Now…’ Jennie folded her arms and looked him straight in the eye ‘…I had the strangest feeling you were just about to pay me a backhanded compliment, so you might as well spit it out.’

Her father coughed into his fist and shuffled his feet. ‘I was just going to say that I’m glad my new daughter-in-law was so insistent about that dress.’

Alice
had
been very determined to have
her own way on that matter. But since she and the other bridesmaid, Coreen, ran a vintage clothing business, there wasn’t much Jennie could have done to dissuade her.

This particular dress had been part of their stock and Jennie had fallen in love with it the moment she’d clapped eyes on it. And who wouldn’t have melted at the sight of the oyster-coloured satin shift dress, cut to perfection. Pure elegance. It fitted Jennie as if the dressmaker had peered into the future and crafted it to her exact measurements. She really shouldn’t have made such a fuss about it when she’d bought it, because it had stuck in Alice’s mind. And once something was stuck in Alice’s mind, it didn’t shake loose again easily.

So, when Alice had started making wedding plans, she’d started badgering Jennie about the dress. It was a crying shame to leave it sitting in the back of the wardrobe, apparently. Then Alice had gone on and on about a pair of shoes she’d once owned and how, when something was such a perfect fit, it just didn’t do to chicken out of wearing it.

Jennie hadn’t been about to tell Alice that, actually, she
had
worn the dress. Just once. And that, right now, she’d rather have worn a Bo-Peep monstrosity in polyester than put it
on again. But that would have led to too many questions. Questions with answers she wasn’t prepared to supply. So she’d worn the dress, and all day it had quietly mocked her.

He father coughed. ‘I was just saying I think you look…that you’re…’

That’s about as expressive as her father got. Sometimes even back-handed compliments were just too hard for him to get out.

‘What he’s trying to say is that you look stunning.’

Jennie felt an arm curve around her waist and she turned to find her stepmother smiling at her, looking more relaxed than she’d been in weeks. She’d pulled the whole wedding together in record time, because Cameron had been too impatient to wait any longer and had insisted he was marrying Alice the first day of the new year—starting it right, as he’d put it.

Marion broke eye contact and looked wistfully in the direction of the wide sweeping drive leading away from the hotel.

‘They’re going to be fabulously happy. You know that, don’t you?’ Jennie said and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

‘Busted,’ her stepmother replied, then gave a little laugh. ‘That’s the thing about being a parent. No matter how big and clever they get, you just can’t stop them being the centre
of your universe, can’t switch off the internal radar that turned itself on the day they were born.’

That was all Jennie had wanted from her father after her mother had died—to know that she was even a little blip on his radar—but it had taken a couple of years to work out how to make herself shine brightly enough to get his undivided attention.

Marion sighed. ‘It’s so stupid. All I can think about is that we won’t be seeing Cameron so often for Sunday lunch any more. It seems so selfish.’

Jennie rubbed her stepmother’s arm. ‘Nonsense,’ she said, deciding to lighten the mood. ‘I’ve tasted Alice’s cooking, remember? I can guarantee you’ll be seeing plenty of them.’

They both laughed, knowing they were supposed to, then her stepmother pulled away and turned to face her. ‘And what about you? Are you “fabulously” happy, too?’

Jennie froze. She hadn’t seen that coming, didn’t know how to answer. Nobody ever asked her those kind of questions. They might ask her where she got those darling shoes from or who did her hair, but nothing that probed below the surface. Most people didn’t think she was anything
but
surface. If little girls
were supposed to be
sugar and spice and all things nice
, then when this little girl had filled out and grown up, all anyone had expected to see was
cocktails and fluff and all that stuff
. She’d been waiting for years for someone to ask more of her, to expect more of her.

Then one day, someone
had
looked deeper. Someone had decided to see if there was anything under all the fluff. She’d hoped there was, but his actions had spoken volumes on the matter.

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to dwell on that—on him. And she didn’t look for those kinds of questions now. Didn’t want them.

‘You’re looking tired,’ Marion said, frowning. ‘What’s the matter? You don’t normally drift off like this unless there’s a man involved somewhere along the line and you haven’t been yourself since you got back from Mexico.’ She left the inference hanging in the air.

Jennie shrugged and looked away. She didn’t mention that, despite plans to holiday in Acapulco, she’d actually been in Paris. A last minute surprise. But telling her parents that would only make them curious.

‘It was that stomach bug I got out there. Really took it out of me.’

‘I’ll say,’ her father interjected. ‘Hardly saw anything of you over Christmas.’

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Well, I’m all better now, so you can both stop fussing and checking up on me. Honestly!’

Her father chuckled. ‘Don’t you stick that bottom lip out at me, my girl. It used to work when you were eight, but it’s well past its sell-by date.’

Jennie hadn’t been aware she’d been doing anything in particular with her bottom lip, and she sucked it in and pressed the other on top of it. ‘Better?’ she mumbled through her closed mouth, with just a hint of a flounce in the way she threw back her shoulders.

‘Much.’ Her father did his best to give her a stern look, and failed.

Marion started to laugh gently. ‘You’re priceless, Jennie. One of a kind.’

Jennie frowned and hugged herself tighter. That was a compliment, right?

Her lips unsealed themselves, but nobody standing there had seriously expected them to remain shut for long, anyway. ‘I don’t see what’s so funny. I just wish everyone would believe I’m all better now, no harm done.’

Seizing on the opportunity to deflect attention away from herself—who would have thought it?—she nodded in the direction of
Auntie Barb. ‘Which is more than I can say for some people.’

Marion graciously took the bait. ‘Dennis? She can’t possibly drive home. We’re going to have to sort something out for her. See if you can do something, will you?’

‘Humph,’ was all her father said, but he turned and signalled to the girl behind the desk.

In the meantime, Marion greeted her sister-in-law and motioned for Jennie to help steer her towards a large sofa about ten feet away. A few moments later her father was back.

‘No good,’ he said. ‘One of the reasons we chose this place was because it was small enough to book out for the night. They’ve confirmed we’ve filled it to the rafters.’

Jennie looked up the wide sweeping staircase. Perhaps she should just go straight to Plan B and slope off to her room? There was always room service if she decided she still needed bubbles to help her drown her sorrows.

‘Bloody family,’ her fathered mumbled.

Marion ignored him and turned to Jennie. ‘Could we use your room? Just until we sort something out?’

They were interrupted by a not-so-gentle snore from the settee. Jennie’s shoulders slumped. There went Plan B—up in flames.

‘Of course,’ she said, feeling her insides crumble, but standing straighter.

‘Bless you,’ her stepmother said and turned to gently shake Auntie Barb. ‘It’s not as if you’ll be needing it for a while,’ she said over her shoulder, and nodded towards the function room, from whence the low bass beat of an ABBA classic was thumping. ‘The party’s going to go on for hours yet.’

Whoopee. Another party. Just what she needed.

Her only option now was to hide in plain sight—sit herself at a table out of the way, preferably behind one of the large potted palms that dotted the room.

‘Don’t worry about us,’ Marion said, giving her a little nudge in the direction of the banqueting hall. ‘You go and have some fun. We’ll sort Barbara out.’

‘Bloody
Barbara,’ her father reminded. ‘She always does this—refuses to “impose” on me by letting me pay for a room, then ends up having to stay anyway. Next time I’m insisting, and I don’t care what she…’

Jennie tuned the rest of his rant out. Nothing for it now but to pull her features into her usual pixie-like grin and trot off like a good little party girl. And, after blowing
her parents a kiss that ended in a little finger wave, that was exactly what she did.

He’d seen her glance towards the stairs and he’d hoped she’d let her feet follow her gaze. The last thing he wanted was to have this out in public, but the location would be up to her. He had no control over what she did next.

He almost let out a hollow laugh. No control whatsoever.

Look at him—reduced to skulking in bushes and crashing weddings just to have a few moments of her precious time. Something she was determined to deny him, it seemed. Well, just this once the spoiled princess was not going to get her own way.

He focused on her again, just in time to see her skip—actually skip—off in the direction of the party. Of course she would choose that over a quiet night in her room. She was Jennie Hunter. She had to go where she could be the centre of attention, where she could shine and glow.

A bitter taste filled his mouth and he swallowed. She really was unbelievable.

He’d been feeling calm and rational when he’d arrived, but all his composure had boiled away once he’d clapped eyes on her. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t confront her
here, not when he was feeling like this, not in front of so many witnesses, but he couldn’t stop himself following her.

He took the exact route he’d watched her take, her exit so imprinted on his memory he could foolishly imagine her shoe prints glowing subtly on the polished hardwood floor. Damn him for still seeing ‘shine’ where he wanted to see none.

However, there was not even a hint of a skip in his long strides as he entered the banqueting hall and began his search.

‘Psst.’

Jennie spun round to find her fellow bridesmaid, Coreen, strategically sitting behind the last available potted palm.

Drat Cameron’s generosity! The open bar, flowing with champagne cocktails, meant that, instead of trailing off into the night, most of the guests had returned to the reception to make sure her stepbrother got his money’s worth. The room was heaving, and her fantasy of finding a quiet corner had already died. Now she was just hoping to find a seat.

Coreen parted the fronds of the palm and leaned forward. The effect of her nineteen-fifties pin-up looks surrounded by all that greenery really was comical, but Jennie
couldn’t bring herself to even muster a giggle. She waved back at Coreen, not even bothering to smile.

‘I have a spare chair and two of
these,’
Coreen said, shoving an open bottle of champagne through the foliage. ‘Care to join me?’

There
were
angels in heaven! Jennie let out a long breath. ‘Now you’re talking,’ she replied and swiftly skirted the large terracotta urn to plonk herself in the last available seat in the room.

Coreen, as always, looked flawless. She took her business seriously, and Jennie had never seen her dress in a twenty-first century outfit. Today she had on a fifties prom dress in an icy pink that complemented Jennie’s oyster shift dress.

Coreen slid an open bottle of champagne across the table towards her. Jennie’s fingers closed around the rough foil at the neck. ‘So what are we drinking to?’ She paused. ‘And please don’t say “Happy Ever Afters”!’

Without waiting for an answer, she put the bottle to her lips and swigged. She took a long gulp, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let the bottle land with a satisfying
thunk
on the table. When she glanced up, she found Coreen looking at her, a knowing smile on her sculpted lips.

‘Wedding day blues, too, huh?’

‘You have no idea,’ Jennie said dryly and lifted the bottle again. Coreen, in the meantime, managed to attract the attention of a waiter, despite the fact he was being waved at from all over the banqueting hall. Well, maybe it wasn’t
that
surprising. She was
Coreen
, after all. She signalled they’d like a couple of glasses and he saluted her, all the while giving her a saucy lopsided smile, then scuttled off to do her bidding. Coreen didn’t turn round again until his rather fine backside had disappeared into the crowd.

‘Me, too,’ she said, after letting out a long sigh.

Jennie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘The wedding day blues don’t seem to be putting you off your stride much.’

A wicked little smirk pulled at Coreen’s lips, and then the corners of her mouth turned down. ‘It’s not the same, though, is it? Flirting’s all well and good, but on days like today, everyone’s gushing about love and promises and for ever. It can make a girl decidedly—’