Damon gave her a wicked grin.
‘I think we’ve missed our reservation,’ he said.
Clementine looked at her clock. It was six minutes past eleven. She smiled. In one hour it would be after midnight. A new day. And then they could try again.
It was the first day of summer.
The waiter tried to fill Clementine’s glass with champagne, but she covered it with her hand. Annabel raised an eyebrow.
‘You’re not …?’
‘No. God, no.’
Damon and Clem had talked about children and the fact that they both wanted them one day. But they were still getting to know each other, and Clementine had been accepted into a postgraduate child psychology course. There was no need to rush things.
‘It was a beautiful wedding,’ said Annabel.
‘You did a good job,’ Clem told her. ‘Perhaps you missed your calling.’
‘After this year I think I’m all wedding-ed out,’ Annabel said.
The white table in front of them was covered with food and glasses of wine. Much of the wedding party was on the dance floor. There was no doubt it was a success.
Daniela flopped onto an empty chair.
‘My feet are killing me,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an emergency pair of ballet flats stashed away, but I really want to keep up the charade of being elegant.’
‘Here,’ Clem said, unstrapping her newly repaired silver shoes from Paris.
‘They look dainty but they’re very comfortable.’
Daniela reached for them. ‘What about you?’
‘Haven’t you heard,’ Clem said. ‘I’m not single any more — I don’t need to make an effort.’ She winked at Damon, who laughed.
Another song started. Patrick took Annabel by the hand and led her onto the dance floor, where they showed off their new tango skills learned at lessons on Sunday evenings.
‘She seems very happy,’ said Dani.
Clementine nodded. When Annabel returned five minutes later she was flushed and grinning. The emcee warned that the bride was about to throw the bouquet. Melanie Sissowitz, dressed in a red silk gown, stole the microphone.
‘Where are my bridesmaids? Clementine, Annabel, Daniela,’ she called. ‘I expect to see you up front for this,’ she said, holding up her bouquet like a liberty torch.
‘I think I could use some air,’ said Annabel.
‘Yes,’ Dani agreed. ‘Let’s go outside for a moment.’ She hooked her fingers around three champagne flutes and picked up an open bottle with her other hand. ‘I think we’ve earned this.’
They strolled across the spongy lawn and sat on the stone bench where they had hatched the husband-hunting plan the previous May.
‘I doesn’t feel like less than a year since we sat here and started being friends again,’ said Annabel. ‘Proper friends.’
‘I know,’ said Daniela. ‘‘I don’t know how I would have got through the past six months without you two.’
‘Me, too,’ Clem said. ‘Let’s have dinner this week. How about Thursday or Friday?’
‘Yes,’ said Annabel. ‘But would it be okay if we made it Friday? I think I’m going to be in the office until late on Thursday night. We’ve got meetings all day with Eve’s Garden.’
‘Yes, Friday’s better for me, too,’ said Dani. ‘I have big plans for stripping floors on Thursday. The house is really starting to come together.’
‘Friday suits me,’ Clem said. The library at Sydney University was open late on Thursday, and she had a lot of reading to do before the semester started in March.
‘It’s going to be a busy year,’ said Annabel.
‘I know, I’m exhausted just thinking about it,’ Clementine said. ‘But excited.’
They sat in silence for a moment and listened to the distant sound of the wedding party where the men they loved were waiting for them. They heard the drum roll, then the shouts of glee as the bouquet was thrown.
‘I’m so happy for Melanie,’ said Annabel.
‘The last of the great single ladies,’ said Dani. ‘Here’s to her.’ They raised their glasses.
‘Here’s to all the single ladies,’ said Annabel.
‘It’s funny how weddings are always the last part of a story,’ Clementine said. ‘Or the end of the film.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Daniela. ‘But tonight doesn’t feel like an ending at all. It feels like a beginning.’
About the Author
Genevieve Gannon is a Melbourne-based journalist and author. Her writing was first published in the St Monica’s Primary School newspaper, The Monical, in the form of a mince pie recipe she completely made up. She lifted her standards of journalistic integrity and wrote stories for music and fashion street press magazines while at university before moving to Canberra to do a journalism cadetship. In 2011 she joined the national news wire, Australian Associated Press, where she covered crime, politics and entertainment. Her work has appeared in most major Australian newspapers including The Age, The Australian and The Daily Telegraph.
Genevieve apologises unequivocally to any of her fellow students and their parents who tried to bake mince pies using the recipe she wrote when she was 10. But if you’re putting four cups of plain flour and four cups of self-raising flour into pastry that doesn’t call for butter, you’ve only got yourself to blame. She currently lives in Melbourne where she is a court reporter. At night she writes romantic comedies. Husband Hunters is her first novel.
Copyright
Impulse
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
First published in Australia in 2014
This edition published in 2014
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
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Copyright © Genevieve Gannon 2014
The right of Genevieve Gannon to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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