by Roz Bailey
“Is Noah here?” I ask.
“He had to stay on at Cannes, but he sends regards.” She bites her lower lip and folds her arms across her chest, flickering the fingers of her left hand, where a diamond catches the sunlight and explodes with refraction.
“Darcy!” I grab her hand, my mouth dropping open over the glimmering pear-shaped stone. “When did this happen?”
“Just yesterday,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I’ve been dying to tell you guys, but I kept my cell phone off so I could save it for today.”
“I’m thrilled for you!” I say, and I mean it.
“Congratulations, Darcy,” Bear tells her. “You two seem to make each other very happy.”
“Spoken from the voice of experience,” Darcy says. “Did I ever thank you for coming back and saving my friend Lindsay here from herself? She tends to get way too analytical when you’re not around.”
Bear puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it.”
“Stop it, you two, and let Darcy show off her ring.” We call the others over, and they flip over the news. Milo shares his blue sapphire “commitment ring” from Raj, and Esther asks Darcy if she can have an “exclusive” on the engagement news.
“Well, sure,” Darcy says, patting the bony woman’s shoulder. “I’d love that.”
After Esther puts her empty glass down and runs to the house to phone it in, Darcy asks, “Do I know that woman?”
“That’s Esther, writer of the Beach Buzz column, and she’s partied with the best of them. One of the original Hamptons party girls,” I tell her. “She once attended a gala event right here, when your parents were hosting.”
“Really?” Darcy looks toward the house. “Party on, Esther.”
The conversation turns to weddings, since there now seem to be a few in our future. Judd and Elle are planning a New Year’s Eve event at Tavern on the Green, a winter wedding, where guests can ride through Central Park in hansom cabs and share stories by the big old fireplaces.
Darcy and Noah haven’t had much time to plan, but they’re leaning toward a summer ceremony in the Hamptons. “Somehow, that just feels so right.”
Bear and I aren’t quite as organized. “I’m thinking about a double whammy,” Bear tells our friends. “We’ve found a priest willing to do a wedding and baptism all on one morning. That way we can maximize everyone’s time and throw one hell of a party.”
What he isn’t saying is that we’re waiting for his first marriage to be annulled so that we can have a Catholic ceremony.
Another secret that our friends don’t know is that we went to city hall in Brooklyn around seven months ago and said our vows before a judge. It was Bear’s insistence that brought us there, his worry that something might happen to him and the baby and I would be left without his insurance and benefits. Smitten by the fact that he wanted to take care of us, I was happy to sneak off to my own wedding, saying “I do” during my lunch hour and between Bear’s final exams. Somehow the secret quality adds an element of danger and romance.
“Is that a cat fight?” Bear asks, pointing his chin toward the beach.
Everyone scrambles toward the bluff for a better vantage point of the beach, where one of the girls is running with a bucket, tossing bursts of cold water onto the others. Girls scramble off the blanket, sand flying as they flee.
One girl stands up to the water fiend, hands on her denim-clad hips. I recognize Maisy, jabbing a finger toward the girl with the bucket, who promptly slaps water onto Maisy’s feet.
“Meeoow!” Steve screeches.
“Girls are so vicious with each other,” Judd says. “I’m glad I’m a guy.”
Elle pushes his shoulder. “Yeah, me, too.”
“They’re just playing,” says Tara, the mediator.
“They couldn’t be worse than we were,” I say.
Darcy purses her lips, then leans back with a wicked grin. “Give them time.”
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2006 by Roz Bailey
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-1111-8
