Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

‘Okay.’ She didn’t want to argue with him. He was Lachlan’s childhood friend, even if he was being a bit over the top. ‘Well, I’ll get him to call you as soon as he gets back.’

‘Can’t you go find him?’

‘He’s just out buying coffee.’ She ran her finger in the figure of eight around the marble countertop. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

‘Coffee?’ He coughed loudly. ‘Seriously?’

‘He wouldn’t have missed it on purpose. I’ll make sure he calls you the minute he gets back.’

‘I’m sorry, Lucy, I don’t mean to be bitching at you. I just don’t understand it. This company is everything to him, and I don’t want him to mess it up.’ Grant paused for a moment, then gave another long sigh. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure it will be fine. Just ignore me.’

‘He wouldn’t mess it up,’ Lucy said, her voice certain. ‘Success means everything to him.’

The same way it had to her. Or it had used to, before Glencarraig and that stolen night in his bedroom. After that, she’d been in a state, not knowing what was important any more.

And now look at her, staying here with an ex-client even though the gossips back at Robinson and Balfour must have been working overtime. Her heart started to beat faster, as though it was knocking on a door in her ribcage. They were doing the right thing.

Weren’t they?

‘I’ll get him to call you back as soon as he’s here,’ she said, her voice low. Her eyes flicked up to the door, leading from the hallway. It remained stubbornly unmoving. Her stomach, however, was a different matter. It lurched inside her as though she was stepping off a roller coaster, her abdomen contracting as a sense of foreboding came over her.

Lachlan had been neglecting his work for weeks. She had, too, for that matter.

Reality was tapping on the door, and as much as she was trying to ignore the noise, it was only a matter of time before it burst its way into their lives.

27

When sorrows come, they come not single

spies, but in battalions

&n

bsp; – Hamlet

With the floor-length dress bag in one hand, Lucy raised the other to hail a cab. The bright yellow car pulled up to the kerb, and she climbed inside, being careful not to wrinkle the dress. She’d barely fastened her seatbelt before the driver pulled away, weaving his way through the lunchtime traffic. As he took a turn down a side street, joining a line of cars who’d all had the same idea, Lucy stared out of the window at the shop displays. Almost immediately something caught her eye. She leaned closer, trying to see if it was what she thought it was.

‘Hey, can you stay here for a minute?’ she asked.

The driver looked at her warily, sliding his eyes to her newly purchased dress. ‘If you leave that I will. And the meter stays on.’

‘Okay then. I won’t be long.’

Grabbing her purse she ran into the shop, seeking out an assistant as she looked at all the stock lining the shelves. A rapid conversation later, plus a hefty bill on her Visa card, she left carrying her delicate purchase in a cushioned box, climbing back into the cab and nodding for the driver to go on. ‘Thanks for waiting,’ she told him.

He muttered something unintelligible and put his foot on the gas.

They were only a few minutes away from Lachlan’s apartment when her phone rang. She couldn’t hide her smile when she saw his name on her screen. ‘Hello?’

‘How’s the shopping going?’ he asked her.

‘It’s done. I found the right dress.’ She glanced at the long black dress bag; emblazoned with the signature Bergdorf logo. Zipped inside was a strapless gold floor-length gown, ruched at the bust, tight on the waist and then flowing like champagne down to the ground. As soon as she’d tried it on she’d just known it was the one. From the coos of the assistant, he’d thought so too.

‘What’s it like?’ Lachlan asked, his voice distracted. ‘Can you send me a photo?’

‘No. You don’t get to see it until the night. It’s bad luck.’

He laughed. ‘I think you’ll find that’s a wedding dress.’ His voice became muffled, as though he was covering the mouthpiece. ‘Grant, can you book a table for four at Barouche? We’ll eat at seven.’