All They Need(64)
“Two-minute warning, here comes Mom now,” Harry said. He ducked down the side of the house just as their mother exited the sliding door to the patio.
“Mel. Thank God. The light’s blown on the front porch. Can you believe the timing? Your father’s in the shower. Would you mind?”
Mel held out a hand for the lightbulb her mother was already carrying and followed her through the house to the front door.
“I’m still not sure if we’ve got enough wine. Do you think I should send Harry out for more champagne? And ice. Do we have enough ice?” her mother asked.
Mel handed her the blown bulb before placing her hands on her mother’s shoulders.
“Mom. Calm down. You have enough drink to keep the Australian cricket team happy, and we have ice up the yoo-hoo. Why don’t you get ready, then sit down and put your feet up for a few minutes and have a glass of wine?”
“I’m not sure. I wanted to make sure the caterers know where to set up the bar. And—”
Mel gave her mother’s shoulders a little shake. “Quit it with the excuses. Go get ready. I’ll tell the caterers where to put the bar on my way out, okay?”
Her mother looked relieved. “All right. If you insist.”
“I do, crazy lady. Now go make yourself beautiful, and I’ll see you in half an hour or so.”
Mel waited till her mother had disappeared up the hallway to her bedroom before ducking outside to have a quick word with the caterer. Then she escaped before her mother came up with another task for her to do.
She headed straight for the shower when she got home. Standing under the warm water, she allowed herself to think about Flynn again.
She’d been rationing herself, not allowing herself to think too much about him and build too much into the fact that she was going to see him again. It was enough that he was going to be there and that he wanted to be there. Anything else she was going to have to deal with on the fly, because no amount of thinking and double thinking and analyzing was going to change the fact that the future was yet to be written.
She’d laid her clothes out on the bed before she left that morning and she sprayed on perfume before slipping into a matching bra-and-panties set and reaching for her dress. Even though her parents had hired a number of outdoor heaters to try to take the chill off, she’d chosen a fine-knit red wool wrap dress for the party, as well as her black knee-high boots. Both went well with the black coat she’d be wearing. She sat on the bed to roll on stay-up stockings, then she zipped her boots and went to fix her hair. She pulled it into the laziest of updos, pinning it into a loose bun with stray curls around her face. She spent five minutes on her makeup before adding a pair of dangling jet earrings and matching necklace to her ensemble. She walked into the bedroom to check her reflection.
She looked good. And really, really nervous.
She collected her coat from the hall closet, locked the house and drove to her parents’. The street was beginning to fill with cars and she was forced to park near the corner and walk. She shrugged into her coat as she walked, her high-heeled boots clicking on the pavement. The front door was open and she could hear music and voices inside, a sure sign that the party had well and truly started.
She let herself in and started looking for her mother to check there were no last-minute emergencies she needed help with before things really fired up. Mel’s progress was slow as she stopped to greet and exchange quick catch-ups with various relatives and family friends. She’d scored a glass of champagne from a roving waiter by the time she made it to the patio, where she finally found her mother.
Dressed in painted-on black trousers and a jade-green silk jacket with a plunging neckline that was only made decent by a black lace camisole, her mother was lit up like a Christmas tree, a glass of champagne in one hand as she held court with her friends. Mel took one look at her and decided she was fine, making a bee-line for where she could see Harry and Justine standing near the garage.
“Mom’s on fire already,” she said as she arrived.
“Tell me about it. Someone needs to remind her to go easy on the champagne,” Justine said.
“Why? It’s her night. If she wants to get snookered and stagger around a little, she should be allowed to,” Harry said, raising his own beer to his mouth.
His gaze was glued to the petite blond waitress who was circulating with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Mel couldn’t decide if it was because he was hungry or trying to pick up, and she decided she didn’t want to know. Harry’s love life was hair-raising at the best of times.