Saving Wishes (The Wishes Series) (2 page)

My hands flew over my ears. “Don’t say Alex.”

“Alex
is
hot. Ask anyone.”

“Get back to your mystery man,” I ordered, trying to scrub her last comment from my memory.

Nicole wagged her finger at me. “Don’t play innocent. I know you saw him.”

“I ran into him in the car park,” I admitted, impressed by my private joke.

“He came in wanting directions.” She grinned smugly. “I was only too happy to help.”

“I’ll bet you were,” I replied dryly.

“He asked about you, too.”

My smirk died immediately. I sat on the bed, inexplicably winding a lock of hair around my fingers. “What did he ask?” Even to my own ears I sounded desperate for information.

“He said he’d just met a girl in the car park and wondered if I knew her. I asked him what she looked like.” Nicole spoke slowly, drawing out the tale. My glare prompted her along. “He said she was pretty, blonde and about so high,” she said, indicating my height with her hand. According to her re-enactment, I was three feet tall.

“What did you tell him?”

“I asked him if she was mouthy, unpredictable and wearing a blue raincoat.”

I folded my arms across my chest. Except for the height estimation, her description of me was pretty fair.

“So where did he want directions to?”

“Spinnaker Road.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess he’s visiting someone in town.”

“Well, I’m sure he was grateful.”

Giving him directions was a service to the community. If Adam had been left to find it himself, every pedestrian in town would’ve been in mortal danger.

“I didn’t give him directions to Spinnaker Road. There are eleven streets in this town, for crying out loud. He would’ve found it eventually. I gave him directions to my house.”

“Slick, Nicole.”

“I thought so. I told him if he wanted to see you again, you’d be at the reception this afternoon.”

I took a moment to process this. Maybe he thought he’d hurt me. I could think of no other reason why he’d ask about me. I could think of even fewer reasons why a stranger would show up at a wedding reception.

“He won’t show,” I declared.

“We’ll see.” Smoothing down the front of her dress with both hands, she began studying her reflection in the mirror. Her grape coloured satin dress gathered under her bust, and a long skirt skimmed her body. Nicole’s hair colour changed from one day to the next and I wasn’t sure that I liked the current platinum blonde look, but it looked pretty coiffed in an elegant bun. I suddenly felt bad for not putting more effort into my outfit.

“I should change,” I muttered.

She abandoned the mirror and, enthusiastically threw open the wardrobe, a woman on a mission.

“How about this?”

The sage green dress she was waving at me still had the tags on it. We’d picked it up in Hobart months earlier. The sales assistant claimed it was vintage. The fifty dollar price tag made me doubt her, but I didn’t care. It was a cute summer dress – summer being the operative word. I had no idea how I was supposed to pull it off in the middle of June. It was also cut a little too low for me, which explained why it had a permanent home in the back of my wardrobe.

“It’s a bit revealing, don’t you think?”

“No. It’s impressive.” She carefully slipped it off the hanger and launched it at me, not so carefully. I dragged my shirt over my head, dropped my skirt to the floor and manoeuvred my way into the dress. I tore off the tags and stood in front of the mirror, fussing with the neckline while Nicole fussed with my hair.

Being the daughter of hairdresser meant she was supposed to possess natural talent when it came to styling hair. She didn’t. Five minutes of pulling and twisting resulted in nothing more cutting edge than the blonde ponytail I’d started with. Reaching for the brush on my dresser, I dragged out the elastic and tried neatening it up.

“Okay. You’re done,” she announced after a few seconds. Patience had never been her strong suit. “You’ve got a party to crash.”

The rain had dulled to a drizzle by the time we arrived at the Lawson’s house. The line of cars stretching down the street convinced me that Nicole wasn’t exaggerating when she’d told me everyone in town (except Alex and his wedding allergies) would be there.

Being such a small town, there were no reception centres or fancy golf clubs to accommodate large parties. Christenings, weddings, wakes and everything in between were held at the host’s house. Joanna Lawson’s wedding reception was supposed to be a quaint garden party in her family’s yard, but the rain had put a dampener on things, so to speak. The lawn was scattered with vacant white plastic tables and chairs, and sodden pink decorations hung limply from the row of lemon trees near the fence. I felt bad for the bride. It looked like a disaster zone.

The house didn’t seem to have fared much better. It was overloaded with guests and there was nothing quaint about it. I could hear the music thumping from the car. Staying put seemed much more favourable than going inside.

Nicole unbuckled her seatbelt. “Are we going to sit here all day?” She angled the rear vision mirror in her direction, checking her reflection while she waited for my reply.

“Could we?”

Nicole threw open the car door and stepped out on to the lawn, surprisingly gracefully considering the ridiculously high heels she was wearing. 

“Get out,” she ordered.

My exit wasn’t as polished and I nearly stumbled on the verge. We hadn’t even made it to the front steps before her mother bombarded us.

“Nicole! Where have you been?” she barked. “We’ve been waiting to take photos. Carol Lawson’s hands were planted firmly on her chubby hips. Her skin-tight mauve dress clung to every pudgy curve on her body. The silver belt around her waist was pulled in two notches too tight. I wondered if she could breathe but the way she was ranting at Nicole confirmed that she could. “This is your sister’s day. Remember that.” She pointed her finger as if she was hexing us.

“How could I forget?” asked Nicole.

“And you, Charlotte.” She said my name as if it was a swear word.

“Yes, Mrs Lawson?” I spoke sweetly. The last thing I wanted to experience was the wrath of Carol. I’d been there before and it wasn’t pretty.

“Make sure you’re on your best behaviour,” she warned.

Charlotte Blake, chief troublemaker. I wasn’t hearing it for the first time. At least I knew where I stood with Carol. She always let me know exactly how she felt. She was one of the most genuine people I knew on the inside, and yet every part of her appearance was fake – gaudy bleached hair, long acrylic nails and a fake tan in a strange shade of orange. The woman was a walking contradiction.

I crossed my heart. “Best behaviour. I promise.”

I doubt she believed me, but she let us on to the porch anyway.

The music was so loud that I could feel it pulsing through my feet as I walked inside. Nicole shrugged off her coat and tried to hang it on the crowded wooden hatstand in the hallway. Already overloaded, the extra weight was too much and sent it toppling towards her.

Moving quickly, she caught it.

“Hang your coat before it falls again,” she yelled, fighting to be heard over the music, still holding the stand upright. One more coat would have signalled the end.

Someone turned the music down and I was relieved not to have to scream my reply.

“I’ll keep my coat on.” I didn’t want to take it off. The neckline on my dress felt positively obscene at that point.

“Last chance,” she warned, preparing to let go.

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

Nicole released her grip, and we watched as the mound of coats began to fall.

Adam was walking out of the lounge room just as it fell. He stumbled as the pile of coats blindsided him.

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry!” gasped Nicole, reaching for the hatstand with both hands.

Adam slung the armful of coats he’d managed to catch back on the stand. “No harm done,” he replied.

He looked different – calmer maybe. His hair, no longer soaked by the rain, was a lighter shade of brown than I remembered, but his eyes remained dangerously bright.

Nicole extended her hand. “I’m glad you came. It’s Adam, right?” she asked, sounding falsely unsure.

I looked to the floor to hide my smirk. Her play at innocence was ridiculous.

Adam shook her hand. “That’s right. Thank you for the invitation. It’s shaping up to be quite a party.” Noticing my expression, he laughed. “Aren’t you having fun?”

I didn’t want to answer, and received a reprieve when Carol bustled through the door.

“The photographer’s still waiting, Nicole. Get outside, now!” Her mother brushed past her, shoving into the lounge room to round up other wayward members of the bridal party.

I could tell that Nicole was mortified. The colour of her cheeks now matched her lipstick. She excused herself from the conversation and for a split second, I considered reaching out and dragging her back.

My eyes darted in every direction but Adam’s. He said nothing until I turned and walked out the same door I’d come in only a few minutes earlier.

“Are you leaving so soon?” he asked, following me out.

The rain had stopped but the cold air felt thick. A few small groups were gathered along the veranda, chatting, laughing and sipping drinks from dodgy plastic cups. I was glad that we weren’t the only ones out there.

He put his hands in his pockets. “I hope you decide to stay, just a little longer.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know anyone else here.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true. We met earlier today. That has to count for something.”

“You nearly mashed me with your car.” I grinned. “I’m not sure it counts for anything.”

“Maybe we could start again.” He held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Adam.”

“Charli,” I replied, ignoring the warmth that tingled up my arm as I took his hand.

“Short for Charlotte?”

“Only when I’m in trouble.”

“I imagine that’s quite often.”

I pulled my hand away, embarrassed that he’d drawn that conclusion so quickly. “Why would you think that?”

Adam leaned forward, reducing the gap between us to inches. “I just think you show a little spark.”

I looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you always this forward?”

He grinned. “I’m from New York. We have a reputation for being pushy.”

“So why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to see Australia.”

His generic answer held no conviction. I knew there was more to it.

“People who want to see Australia usually visit the Sydney Harbour Bridge or the Great Barrier Reef. The south coast of Tasmania will shoot any dreams you had of a sunny Australian holiday down in flames.”

“I like it so far,” he said, smiling. I concentrated on not reading too far between the lines. “Besides, I have family here.”

I was pretty confident that I knew everyone in town. Possibilities ran through my head.

“Who?”

“My cousin. Gabrielle Décarie.” I gritted my teeth and forced a smile, but my strain must have been obvious. “Do you know her?”

I did know her. Mademoiselle Décarie taught French at high school. I detested French, and I was quite sure she detested me because of it.

Getting away with anything underhanded at school was tricky. There was no such thing as scheduled parent and teacher meetings. All discussions involving late assignments, poor grades and ditched classes were held across the counter of our café. Poor Alex cringed whenever a teacher walked through the door. Gabrielle Décarie was no exception to the rule, and it didn’t help that Alex was a bumbling fool in her presence. She was an exquisitely beautiful woman with coppery hair and porcelain skin. It was easy to see how he’d fallen under her invisible spell.

“Mademoiselle Décarie is my French teacher. She’s also French. You’re American. How does that work?” I wickedly wanted to hear that she wasn’t French at all and the accent was a sham.

Adam took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms. “My father is French. We moved to the states when I was a child. Gabrielle is always telling me how nice it is here. I thought I’d check it out for myself.”

It was a long way to come for a big fat nothing.

“So how long are you in town for, Adam Décarie?” The exaggerated spin I put on his surname sounded ridiculous. I made a mental note never to attempt it again.

“I don’t have to be home for a couple of months.”

“Running a girl down with your car is the most excitement you can hope for here. You’ll be clawing the walls in a week, desperate to get out of town,” I teased.

“Have you always lived here?” he asked.

“Always.”

I wanted to tell him that Nicole and I planned to leave as soon as we were done with school. I wasn’t one of those boring small town girls, and it pained me to think that Adam might think I was. I shouldn’t have cared what he thought. I didn’t know this boy from, well, Adam.