Kitabı oxu: «Sunset In Central Park»

Chapter One

Sleeping Beauty didn’t need a prince. She needed strong coffee.

—Frankie

She’d expected hearts, flowers and smiles. Not tears.

“Crisis unfolding, two o’clock.” Frankie tapped her earpiece and heard Eva respond.

“It can’t unfold at two o’clock. It’s already five past three.”

“Not the time, the position. Crisis is unfolding ahead of me and to the right.”

There was a pause. “You mean by the apple tree?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Then why not just say ‘by the apple tree’?”

“Because if you’re going to make me wear an earpiece and look professional, I’m going to sound professional.”

“Frankie, you sound more like the FBI than a floral designer. And how can there be a crisis? Everything is running smoothly. The weather is perfect, the tables are pretty and the cakes are looking stunning if I say so myself. Our bride-to-be looks radiant and the guests will be arriving any minute.”

Frankie stared at the woman crumpled against the tree trunk. “I hate to tell you this but right now the bride-to-be isn’t looking radiant. We have tears. I am the last person to make an observation on the psychology of weddings and all the fluff that surrounds them, but I’m guessing that’s not the usual response. If they reach this stage, it’s because they think marriage is a good thing, am I right?”

“Are you sure they’re not happy tears? And how many tears exactly? One tissue or a whole box?”

“Enough to cause a world shortage. She’s crying like a waterfall after heavy rain. I’m starting to understand why they call it a bridal shower.”

“Oh no! Her makeup will be ruined. Do you know what happened?”

“Maybe she decided she should have gone with the chocolate ganache instead of the orange sugar icing.”

“Frankie—”

“Or maybe she saw sense and decided to get out now while there’s still time. If I were about to get married, I’d be crying, too, and I’d be crying a hell of a lot harder and louder than she is.”

A sigh vibrated in her ear. “You promised to leave your relationship phobias at the door.”

“I closed the door, but they must have sneaked in through the keyhole.”

“The mood for this event is sunny optimism, remember?”

Frankie stared at the bride-to-be, sobbing under the apple tree. “Not from where I’m standing. It’s been a dry summer, though. The apple tree will be pleased to be watered.”

“Go and give her a hug, Frankie! Tell her everything will be okay.”

“She’s getting married. How can everything be okay?” Sweat pricked the back of her neck. There was only one thing she hated more than bridal showers, and that was weddings. “I will not lie.”

“It’s not a lie! Plenty of people live happily ever after.”

“In fairy stories. In real life they sleep around and get divorced, invariably in that order.” Frankie made a huge effort to smother her prejudices. “Get out here now. This is your area of expertise. You know I’m no good at the touchy-feely thing.”

“I’ll handle it.” This time it was Paige who spoke and who, moments later, strode across the neatly tended lawn, cool and composed despite the New York heat and humidity. “What was she doing immediately before she started crying?”

“She took a phone call.”

“Could you hear any of the conversation?”

“I don’t listen to people’s conversations. Maybe the markets crashed or something, although judging from the size of this house it would need to be a big crash to make a difference.” Frankie pushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Can we do these events indoors from now on? I’m dying.” It was the sort of day that made your clothes stick to your skin and made you dream of iced drinks and air-conditioning.

She thought longingly of her small apartment in Brooklyn.

If she were home now she’d be fiddling with cuttings, tending the herbs on her windowsill and watching the bees flirt with the plants in her tiny garden. Or maybe she’d be on the roof terrace with her friends, sharing a bottle of wine as they watched the sun set over the Manhattan skyline.

Weddings would be the last thing on her mind.

She felt a touch on her arm and glanced toward her friend. “What?”

“You’re stressed. You hate weddings and all things bridal. I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do them, but right now—”

“Our business is in its infancy and we can’t afford to turn them down. I know. And I’m fine with it.” Well, not fine exactly, Frankie thought moodily, but she was here, wasn’t she?

And she understood that they couldn’t be choosy about their clients.

She, Paige and Eva had started their and-concierge business, Urban Genie, only a few months earlier after they’d lost their jobs at a large Manhattan-based events company.

Frankie gave a little smile, remembering the giddy excitement and sweaty fear that had come from starting their own company. It had been terrifying but there had also been a powerful feeling of liberation. They had the control.

It had been Paige’s brainchild, and Frankie knew that without her she would very likely be out of a job right now. Which would mean no way to pay her rent. Without the money to pay her rent, she’d have to leave her apartment.

Unease rippled through her, as if someone had thrown a pebble into the quiet, smooth pond that was her life.

Her independence was everything.

And that was why she was here. That and the loyalty she felt toward her friends.

She pushed her glasses back up her nose with the tip of her finger. “I can cope with weddings if that’s what comes our way. Don’t worry about me. She—” Frankie nodded her head toward the woman under the apple tree “—is your priority.”

“I’m going to talk to her. If the guests arrive, stall them. Eva?” Paige adjusted her earpiece. “Don’t bring the cakes out yet. I’ll let you know what’s happening.” She walked over to the bride-to-be.

Frankie knew that whatever the problem was, her friend would deal with it. Paige was a born organizer with a gift for saying exactly the right thing at the right time.

And she possessed another gift, crucial to the success of events like these—she believed in happy endings.

As far as Frankie was concerned, people who believed in happy endings were delusional.

Her parents had separated when she was fourteen, when her father, a sales director, had announced that he was leaving her mother for one of his colleagues.

And as for everything that had happened since—

She stared blindly at the ribbons fluttering in the breeze.

How did people do it? How did they manage to ignore all the statistics and facts and convince themselves they could find one person to be with forever?

Forever didn’t exist.

She shifted restlessly. Paige was right. There was nothing on earth she hated as much as weddings and all things bridal. They filled her with a sense of foreboding. It was like watching a car driving along the freeway, heading toward a pileup. There was a hideous inevitability to it all. She wanted to cover her eyes or shout out a warning. What she didn’t want to be was a witness.

She saw Paige put her arm around the sobbing woman and turned away. She told herself that she was giving them privacy, but truthfully, she didn’t want to look. It was too raw. Too real. Looking stirred up memories she preferred to forget. Fortunately, her job wasn’t to manage the emotions of the clients; it was to provide a floral display that reflected the tone and mood of the event.

The mood was supposed to be happy, so she’d chosen creams and pastels to complement the beautiful linens. Celosia and sweet pea nestled alongside hydrangea and roses in glass pitchers chosen to satisfy the bride-to-be’s request for simplicity.

Of course, simplicity was a relative term, Frankie thought as she surveyed the two long tables. Simplicity could have meant feasting from picnic baskets, but in this case the tables gleamed with silverware and the shimmer of crystal. Charles William Templeton was a lawyer with a famous clientele and sufficient funds at his disposal to ensure that his only daughter, Robyn Rose, could have any wedding she wanted. The Plaza was booked for the following summer. Frankie was relieved Urban Genie wasn’t involved with that event.

The brief for the bridal shower had been garden elegance with a touch of romance. Frankie had managed not to wince as Robyn Rose had mentioned Flower Fairies and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Thanks to Eva, who had no trouble turning their clients’ romantic visions into reality, they’d more than met the brief.

They’d rented chairs and customized them with ribbon that coordinated with the table setting. Handmade silk butterflies were artfully positioned around the garden, and acres of lace created the feel of a fairy grotto. You could almost believe you were in a fairy tale.

Frankie gave a half smile.

Only Eva could have thought it up.

The only nod to simplicity was the mature apple tree currently sheltering the sobbing bride-to-be.

Frankie was bracing herself to start holding off guests when Eva appeared by her side, her cheeks pink from the sun.

“Do we know what’s happening?”

“No, but I can tell you it’s not all celebration. Paige needs to work magic.”

Eva glanced around wistfully. “It all looks so pretty and we’ve worked so hard to make it perfect. Normally I love bridal showers. I always think of it as a final celebration before the bride and groom ride off into the sunset.”

“Sunset is what happens before darkness, Ev.”

“Can you at least pretend you believe in what we do?”

“I do believe in what we do. We’re a business. We manage events and we’re damn good at it. This is just another event.”

“You make it sound so clinical, but there’s a magical side to it.” Eva straightened the wing of a silk butterfly. “Sometimes we make wishes come true.”

“My wish was to run a successful business with my two best friends, so I guess you’re right about that. There’s nothing magical about it, unless managing to function after an eighteen-hour day is magical. And coffee is definitely magical. Fortunately, I don’t have to believe in happy endings to do a great job. My responsibility is the flowers, that’s all.”

And she loved it. Her love affair with plants had begun when she was young. She’d taken refuge in the garden to escape the emotions inside the house. Flowers could be art, or they could be science, and she’d studied each plant carefully, understanding that each had individual needs. There were the shade-loving plants like ferns, ginger and jack-in-the-pulpit, and then there were the sun worshippers, like lilacs and sunflowers. Each needed an optimum environment. Planted in the wrong place, they would wither and die. Each needed the perfect home in order to flourish.

Not so different from humans, she mused.

She loved selecting the right flower for the right event; she enjoyed designing displays of plants but most of all she loved growing them and watching the changing seasons. From the extravagant froth of blossom in the spring to the elegant russets and burnt orange of the fall, each season brought its own gifts.

“The flowers are beautiful.” Eva studied the bunch of flowers artfully arranged in the pitcher. “That’s pretty. What is it?”

“It’s a rose.”

“No, the silvery one.”

“Centaurea cineraria.”

Eva gave her a look. “What do normal people call it?”

“Dusty miller.”

“It’s pretty. And you used sweet peas.” Her friend drew her finger wistfully over the flower. “They were my grandmother’s favorite. I used to leave bunches of them by her bed. They reminded her of her wedding. I love the way you’ve put this together. You’re so talented.”

Frankie heard the wobble in her friend’s voice. Eva had adored her grandmother, and her death the previous year had been devastating. Frankie knew she missed her horribly.

She also knew that Eva wouldn’t want to have a wobbly moment at work.

“Did you know the sweet pea was discovered by a Sicilian monk three hundred years ago?”

Eva swallowed hard. “No. You know so much about flowers.”

“It’s my job. What do you think of this? It’s Queen Anne’s lace,” Frankie spoke quickly. “You’ll like it. It’s very bridal. Perfect for you.”

“Yes.” Eva pulled herself together. “When I get married I’m going to have that in my bouquet. Would you make it for me?”

“Sure. I’ll make you the best bouquet any bride has ever seen. Just don’t cry. You’re a mess when you cry.”

Eva scrubbed her hand over her face. “So you’d be happy for me? Even though you don’t believe in love?”

“If anyone can prove me wrong it’s going to be you. And you deserve it. I’m hoping Mr. Right rides up on his white horse and sweeps you away.”

“That would attract some attention on Fifth Avenue.” Eva blew her nose. “And I’m allergic to horses.”

Frankie tried not to smile. “With you, there’s always something.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me laugh instead of cry. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, well, you can return the favor by handling this situation.” Frankie saw Paige hand Robyn another tissue. “He’s dumped her, hasn’t he?”

“You don’t know that. It could be anything. Or nothing. Maybe she has dust in her eye.”

Frankie glanced at her friend in disbelief. “Next you’ll be telling me you still believe in Santa and the tooth fairy.”

“And the Easter bunny.” Composed again, Eva whipped a tiny mirror from her purse and checked her makeup. “Don’t ever forget the Easter bunny.”

“What’s it like living on Planet Eva?”

“It’s lovely. And don’t you dare contaminate my little world with your cynical views. A moment ago you were talking about Mr. Right.”

“That was to stop you from crying. I don’t understand why people put themselves through this when they could just stab themselves through the heart with a kitchen knife and be done with it.”

Eva shuddered. “You’ve been reading too much horror. Why don’t you read romance instead?”

“I’d rather stab myself through the heart with a kitchen knife.” And it felt as if she’d done just that. She was looking at Robyn Rose, but she was remembering her mother, incoherent with grief on the kitchen floor while her father, white-faced, had stepped over her heaving body and walked out the door, leaving Frankie to clean up his mess.

She stared straight ahead and then felt Eva slide her arm through hers.

“One day, probably when you least expect it, you’re going to fall in love.”

It was a remark typical of Eva.

“That’s never going to happen.” Knowing that her friend was emotionally vulnerable, Frankie tried to be gentle. “Romance has the same effect on me as garlic does on vampires. And besides, I love being single. Don’t give me that pitying look. It’s my choice, not a sentence. It’s not a state that I’m in until something better comes along. Don’t feel sorry for me. I love my life.”

“Don’t you want someone to snuggle up to at night?”

“No. This way I never have to fight for the duvet, I can sleep diagonally across the bed and I can read until four in the morning.”

“A book can’t take the place of a man!”

“I disagree. A book can give you most things a relationship can. It can make you laugh, it can make you cry, it can transport you to different worlds and teach you things. You can even take it out to dinner. And if it bores you, you can move on. Which is pretty much what happens in real life.” Unlike her father, her mother had never married again. Instead, she burned through men as if they were disposable.

“You’re going to make me cry again. What about intimacy? A book can’t know you.”

“I can live without that part.” She didn’t want people to know her. She’d moved away from the small island where she’d grown up for precisely that reason—people had known too much. Every intimate, deeply embarrassing detail of her private life had been public knowledge.

Paige walked back to them. “The phone call was the groom.” Her voice was crisp and businesslike. “He called it off.”

Eva made a distressed sound. “Oh no! That’s dreadful for her.”

“Maybe it isn’t.” Despite the fact she’d already guessed what had happened, Frankie’s stomach churned. “Maybe she had a lucky escape.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because sooner or later he’d cheat on her and break her heart. Might as well be now before they have kids and a hundred and one Dalmatian puppies and innocent bystanders are injured in the fallout.” Not wanting to admit how gutted she was to have been proved right yet again, Frankie leaned forward and removed the Queen Anne’s lace from the pitcher.

“A hundred and one puppies of any breed would put pressure on a marriage, Frankie,” Eva said.

“And not all men cheat.” Paige checked the time on her phone, and the diamond on her finger caught the sunlight and glinted.

Seeing it, Frankie felt a flash of guilt.

She should keep her mouth shut. Eva loved dreaming and Paige was newly engaged. She needed to keep her thoughts on marriage to herself.

“It will be different for you and Jake,” she mumbled. “You’re one of those rare couples that are perfect together. Ignore me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Paige waved her hand and the diamond glinted again. “You and I don’t want the same thing, and that’s fine.”

“I’m a killjoy.”

“You’re the child of divorced parents. And it wasn’t a happy divorce. We all have a different perspective on life, depending on our own experience.”

“I know I overreact, though. It wasn’t even my divorce.”

Paige shrugged. “But you lived through the fallout. It would be crazy to think that wouldn’t affect you. It’s like washing a red sock with a white shirt. Everything ends up tainted.”

Frankie gave a half smile. “Am I the white shirt in that analogy? Because I’m not sure I’m white-shirt material.”

Eva studied her. “I agree. I’d say you were more of a combat jacket.”

“Robyn has gone upstairs to fix her makeup.” Paige steered the conversation back to work. “The guests will be arriving any minute. I’m going to talk to them.”

“We’re canceling?”

“No. We’re going ahead, but now it’s not a bridal shower—it’s a party. A celebration of friendship.”

Frankie relaxed slightly. Friendship she could cope with. “Nice. How did you pull that one off?”

“I pointed out that friends are there for the bad times as well as the good. They were invited to share the good, but if they’re true friends they’ll be right there by her side for the bad.”

“And bad times are always improved by champagne, sunshine and strawberries,” Eva said. “Here she comes.”

Frankie reached for the next pitcher of flowers and Paige put her hand out to stop her.

“Those are beautiful. What are you doing?”

“The flowers are supposed to match the mood of the occasion, and these are too bridal.”

Without waiting for Paige’s approval, Frankie tossed the bridal Queen Anne’s lace into the border and watched as the flowers hit the dirt.

She tried not to think of it as symbolic.

The three friends arrived home an hour or so before the sun was due to set.

Sweaty, irritable and miserably unsettled by the events of the day, Frankie searched in her purse for her keys.

“If I don’t get inside in the next five seconds I’m going to melt right here.”

Paige paused by the front door. “Despite everything, it went well.”

“He dumped her,” Eva murmured, and Paige frowned.

“I know. I was talking about the event. That went well. We should celebrate. Jake’s coming over. Why don’t we all meet up on the roof terrace for a drink?”

Frankie didn’t feel like celebrating. “Not tonight. I have a date with a good book.” She wasn’t going to think about how Robyn Rose was feeling. She wasn’t going to worry about whether she was all right or whether she’d ever have the courage to love again. That wasn’t her problem.

Fumbling, she dropped the key and saw Eva exchange a glance with Paige.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course. Just tired. Long day in the heat.” And part of that heat had come from being exposed to a boiling cauldron of emotions. Frankie retrieved the key and wiped her forehead with her palm.

“You should wear a skirt,” Eva said. “You would have been cooler.”

“You know I never wear skirts.”

“You should. You have great legs.”

Frankie made a blind stab at the door but it wouldn’t open. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right, but we thought you might need distraction after the bridal shower so we bought you something.” Paige dug her hand into her bag, the bag that held everything from cleanser to duct tape. “Here.” She handed over a parcel and Frankie took it, touched by the gesture.

“You bought me a book?” She opened it and felt a thrill of excitement. Her bad mood evaporated. “It’s the new Lucas Blade! It’s not out for another month. How did you get this?” Almost salivating, she held it against her chest. She wanted to sit down and start reading right away.

“Eva is well connected.”

Eva’s cheeks dimpled into a smile. “I mentioned to dear Mitzy that you love his work, and she used her power as a grandmother to force him to sign you a copy, although why you want to read a book called Death Returns I do not know. I’d be up all night screaming. The only good thing about that book is his photo on the jacket. The guy is insanely hot. Mitzy wants to introduce me to him, but I’m not sure I want to meet a man who writes about murder for a living. I don’t think we’d have much in common.”

“It’s signed?” Frankie opened the book and saw her name in bold black scrawl. “This is so cool. I was thinking of preordering it but the price is shocking because he’s so successful. I can’t believe you did this.”

“Your idea of horror is a bridal shower or a wedding, but you did it anyway,” Eva said, “so we wanted to treat you tonight. This is our thank-you. If it scares you and you want company, bang on the door.”

Frankie felt her throat thicken. This was friendship. Understanding someone. “I hope it does scare me. That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

Eva shook her head, bemused. “I love you, but I will never understand you.”

Frankie smiled. Maybe not understanding. Maybe friendship was loving someone even when you didn’t always understand them. “Thanks,” she muttered. “You guys are the best.”

The key finally slid into the lock and she stepped into the sanctuary of her apartment. She closed the door and the first thing she did was pull off her glasses. The frames were heavy and she rubbed her nose gently with her fingers and walked through to her pretty living room. The space was small, but she’d furnished it well, with a few good pieces she’d found on the internet. There was an overstuffed sofa that she’d rescued and covered herself, but what she loved most about her apartment were the plants. They crowded every available surface, a rainbow of greens with splashes of color, leading the eye toward the small garden.

She’d turned the small enclosed space into a leafy refuge.

Gold flame honeysuckle, Clematis Montana, and other climbers scrambled over trellises while pots overflowed with a profusion of trailing plants. Vinca and bacopa tangled and tumbled over the small area of cedar decking that caught the sun at certain times of the day, and a Moroccan lamp sat in the center of the small table for those evenings she chose to sit alone rather than join her friends on the roof terrace.

Peace and calm enveloped her. The prospect of an evening reading a book she’d been looking forward to for months lifted her mood.

This was her life and she loved it.

Not for her the stomach-churning roller-coaster ride that was love. She didn’t need that and she certainly didn’t want it. She never wasted an evening staring longingly at her phone, hoping it would ring, and she’d never cried her way through a single tissue, let alone a whole box.

She flipped open the book, but she knew if she read the first page she’d be hooked, and first she needed to shower.

Tomorrow was Sunday and her schedule was clear, so she could read all night if she wanted to, sleep late and no one would care.

One of the many benefits of being single.

She put the book down, wondering why everyone else seemed so eager to give up that precious status.

Much as she loved her friends, she was glad she lived on her own. Paige and Eva had shared the apartment above hers for years and even though Paige was now spending more time at Jake’s apartment, she still spent at least half the week in her old room. Frankie suspected that decision was driven as much by her friend’s desire not to leave Eva alone as a need to maintain her own space.

Flustered, she lifted her hand to her face.

Her glasses. She’d forgotten to wear her glasses.

She remembered taking them off when she’d walked through the door. She hadn’t put them back on because she hadn’t been expecting company.

“I need them.” What should she do? She could squint and trip over a chair, but it was a bit late for that. “It’s complicated.” Lame, Frankie. Lame.

“I’m sure it is.” Matt’s tone was gentle. “But the reason you need them has nothing to do with your vision, does it?”

He knew.

Horror washed through her. It was like arriving at work and discovering you’d forgotten to dress. “If you’ve finished, you should probably go.” She snatched the plate from him, her face burning. “Claws is scratching my sofa. And I need to get back to my book.”

The book she could read perfectly well without glasses.

Matt didn’t budge. “We’re not going to talk about this?”

“Nothing to talk about. Good night, Matt.” She was so desperate for him to leave she stumbled over the kitchen chair on her way to the door. The irony almost made her laugh. If she’d done that sooner, he might never have guessed. “Have a great evening.”

He stood up slowly and followed her.

“Frankie—” The gentleness of his tone somehow intensified the humiliation.

“Good night.” She pushed him through the door and Claws shot out with him, clearly unimpressed by the level of hospitality.

Frankie slammed the door, narrowly missing his hand.

Then she leaned against it and closed her eyes.

Crap, crap and crap.

Her cover was totally and utterly blown.

Matt let himself into his apartment and dropped his keys on the table.

He’d known Frankie since she was six years old and for the past ten years, since she’d moved to New York, she’d been a constant feature in his life. He didn’t just know her, he knew her. He knew she burned easily and always wore sunscreen. He knew she hated tomato, romance movies, the subway. He knew she had a black belt in karate. And it wasn’t just those basic facts that he knew. He knew deeper things. Important things. Like the fact that her relationship with her mother was difficult and that her parents’ divorce had affected her deeply.

He knew all those things, but until tonight he hadn’t known she didn’t need the glasses she always wore.

He ran a hand over his face. How could he have missed that?

She’d worn glasses for as long as he could remember, and he’d never once questioned her need for them. He’d noticed that she fiddled with them when a situation made her nervous or uncomfortable, as if they offered her some reassurance, but he’d never understood why her glasses would be reassuring. They were possibly the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. The frames were thick and heavy and an unappealing shade of brown, as if they’d been trodden into a patch of damp earth. They were unattractive, and knowing her the way he did, Matt was sure that was the reason she’d chosen them. They were armor. Razor wire, to repel unwanted intruders.

Relationships, he thought. Was anything in life as complicated?

Claws rubbed against his legs and he bent to stroke her.

Who was going to break the bad news to her that she was cute as hell with or without ugly glasses? The fact that she seemed unaware of it just increased the sexiness level. There was so much she didn’t know about herself.

The cat sprang onto the sofa, digging in her claws, and he gave a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, she’d probably do the same thing if I told her that. Dig her claws in me. Then she’d hide under the kitchen table. You and she have a lot in common.”

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he took the steps up to the roof terrace.

The setting sun sent shards of red and orange over the Manhattan skyline.

New York was a city of neighborhoods, of buildings that rose tall and proud into the sky, of blaring cab horns, hissing steam and the never-ending noise of construction. It was a city of iconic landmarks: the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, the Flatiron Building. The ultimate dream destination for many, and he understood that. Tourists arrived and immediately felt as if they were extras on a movie set. You saw them pointing it out. That’s where they filmed Spiderman, or that’s where Harry met Sally.

And it was a city of individuals. The wealthy, the poor, the lonely, the ambitious. Singles, families, locals and tourists—they all crowded together on this patch of land that nudged the water.

“You going to stand there admiring your kingdom all night or are you going to share a beer with me?”

Matt turned sharply and saw Jake sprawled on one of the loungers, a beer in his hand. He swore under his breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Jake grinned. “Big tough guy like you? Never.”

“What are you doing here?” Normally he would have been happy to see his friend, but right now he wanted space to process this new information on Frankie. What else didn’t he know about her? What else was she hiding?

Jake raised the bottle toward Matt. “I’m drinking your beer and enjoying your view. Best view in Brooklyn.”

“You have your own roof terrace. And the reason I know that is because I built it for you. You also have your own beer.”

“I know, but my roof terrace and my beer don’t come with your scintillating company.”

“Last time I looked it was my sister’s scintillating company that was taking most of your time and attention.” He saw Jake open his mouth to speak and cut him off quickly. “Do not even think about telling me what it is about my sister that takes most of your time and attention. I don’t want details. I’m still getting used to the idea that the two of you are together.”

“You’re going to be my brother-in-law. It’s official. There’s going to be a ceremony. In a way you’re marrying me.”

Matt almost cracked a smile. “I’m going to file for divorce.”

“On what grounds?”

“Unreasonable behavior. Breaking and entering and—” he eyed the beer “—theft and misappropriation of property.”

“I always said you would have made a fine lawyer.” Jake leaned back and closed his eyes. “Bad day?”

There had been nothing wrong with his day. It was his evening that hadn’t gone according to plan.

Matt sprawled on the lounger next to his friend. “Have you ever thought you knew someone and discovered you didn’t?”

“Every damn day. What’s her name?”

“What makes you think it’s a woman?”

“If you thought you knew someone and then discovered you didn’t, that person could only be female. Mystery, thy name is woman. And you’re in luck, because Uncle Jake is here to give you advice on that.”

“Or Uncle Jake could just drink his beer and shut up.”

“I could do that, but because I’m your friend I’m going to give you the benefit of my infinite wisdom on the fair sex. Do not expect to understand a woman. You don’t need to. It’s like traveling to a foreign country where you don’t speak the language. You can get by with a few phrases and hand gestures. But don’t tell your sister I said that or she’d throw the ring I gave her into the East River.”

“Talking of Paige, why are you up here with me instead of downstairs with her?”

“She’s taking a call. Building her empire.”

“You couldn’t just hang out until she’d finished? What about Eva?”

“Eva is watching some movie where everyone is kissing and crying so I thought I’d enjoy the sunset and catch up with an old friend.” He eyed the beer and grinned. “And then you showed up. So what happened with Frankie? What did you find out that you didn’t know before?”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with Frankie?”

“Because I’ve known you a lot of years.” Jake took a mouthful of beer. “And you’ve had feelings for Frankie for every single one of those years.”

“How the hell do you know that?” He shifted uncomfortably. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but you’re protective of the people you care about, and you’re extra protective when it comes to Frankie. You don’t need to be an expert in human relationships to see that she matters to you. As far as I can see, it’s always been Frankie.”

“Not always. I was engaged to Caroline.”

“A temporary lapse from which you recovered, fortunately for our friendship.”

“You didn’t like Caroline?”

“She was the female equivalent of a hand grenade, a small curved object designed to cause maximum destruction.” Jake paused. “She had me fooled for a while, though. Frankie is nothing like her.”

Matt didn’t disagree. He and Caroline had met in college and their relationship had been more like a kick in the balls than a blow to the heart. It had lasted twelve intense months and it had woken him up to what he wanted. Not just wanted, needed. Trust. Honesty.

“Frankie hides a lot.”

“Maybe, but the difference is that Frankie doesn’t hide it because she’s manipulative or conniving. She hides it because she’s scared. I joke about women being difficult to read but Paige is pretty much an open book and as for Eva—she’s not just an open book, she’s an audiobook. Everything she feels comes out of her mouth with no filter. Which makes it simple for guys like me. But Frankie—” Jake pulled a face “—she’s different. She’s guarded.”

“I know.” Matt didn’t mind the fact that she was guarded. What he minded was the fact that she was guarded around him. Why would she feel the need to wear glasses around him? Didn’t she trust him?

“What? You expect her to open up and spill all her secrets to you?” Jake shook his head. “You expect too much.”

“I expect trust. Is that too much to ask?”

Jake shrugged. “It’s everything. Trust is serious. More serious than sex. Think about it. When you trust someone, you’re giving them the power to hurt you.” He drained his beer. “That’s scary stuff. Like saying, ‘Hey, here’s a really sharp knife. Stab me in the chest with it anytime you like.’”

“I would never hurt Frankie.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“So what is the point?”

“She had a rough time growing up, you know that. Her mom is scary. Remember the last time she visited? She pinned me against the wall. I almost lost my virginity right there in Frankie’s kitchen. It’s no wonder Frankie is guarded.”

Matt remembered Paige telling him that boys had hit on Frankie at school, assuming she was like her mother and that sex was guaranteed.

Like mother, like daughter.

“I don’t know how to handle it.”

“You’ll figure it out. Getting wounded creatures to trust you is your special gift. If you don’t believe me you only have to look at that damn cat.”

“Are you comparing Frankie to a cat?” Matt shook his head. “How did you ever get any woman, let alone my sister?”

“I used my abundance of natural charm.” Jake yawned. “How’s work? You never return my calls. Are we breaking up?”

Matt was too preoccupied to smile. “I’m snowed under. I’m in the middle of a big project and I’ve lost a key player.” His skill lay in design and hard landscaping and much of that was already completed. They still had to deal with lighting and furniture. He’d planned three log seats, and had completed one of them. His problem was the planting and it would remain a problem until he could find someone to take Victoria’s place. “I need to try and recruit someone with Frankie’s skills.”

Jake shrugged. “So ask Frankie.”

“What?”

“Why bother trying to find someone like Frankie, when you can have Frankie. If she has the right skills, give her the job.”

“She already has a job.”

“So you’ll need to be creative. Find a way.” Jake paused. “The best way to get someone to trust you is to spend time with them. You have the perfect excuse right there under your nose.”

Matt stared at Jake, wondering why that solution hadn’t occurred to him. “Sometimes,” he said, “you’re not a bad friend.”

“I’m the best friend on the planet. You love me. That’s why we’re getting married. And we’re going to live happily ever after.”

“Until I divorce you.”

“You couldn’t afford to divorce me. We haven’t signed a prenup.”