Page 7 of One Golden Summer
Kirsty let out a low whistle. “Prime real estate. You definitely need expensive wine to go with that address.”
Ginger cackled. “My sister would say the same.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “The truth is, I’m not loaded. I’m recently divorced, and our place sold for more than we thought. Hence, I’ve bought a nice house and am treating myself to some good wine. I deserve it.” She paused, annoyance crossing her face. “I need to stop sayingweandour, don’t I? Old habits.” She shook her head.
Kirsty got it. It’d taken her a good few years to stop the habit herself after she’d discovered Anna wasn’t adhering to her marriage vows in the same way she was. “If you’ve only just got divorced, I think you’re allowed a little time.”
Ginger sipped her coffee. “I need to shake myself out of the habit soon. I want to slap myself every time I do it.”
“I got divorced seven years ago, so I know what you’re going through. If it helps, it does get better.” However, Kirsty wouldn’t go through those initial stages of divorce again for anyone. The pain and devastation of realising your happily ever after had just come to an abrupt end had been almost too much to bear.
Ginger sighed, before looking Kirsty in the eye. “It does, sort of. I’m still a little out of sorts, unpacking boxes, marvelling at the speed of change. Our house had only been on the market for two weeks when it sold. One minute we were arguing about who got the Charles Eames chair; the next, it’s sitting in my new lounge, but Dave isn’t.”
“At least you got the chair.”
“That’s what my sister told me. Still, I wanted a fresh start after Dave said he was leaving. You can’t get fresher than moving 100 miles to a town I barely know.”
“That’s a brave move.” At least Kirsty had the loving embrace of her community to fall back on. Anna had left, but she hadn’t gone far enough. Just five miles down the coast to Honey Bay. They still ran into each other on occasion. She held up her mug. “Consider your first friend in town made. We divorcees have to stick together.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Ginger took a sip, before putting her mug on the table. “Actually, I had meant to come in here on business. I run my own web agency, and I’ve got the contract for the town website. My job is to put Sandy Cove on the map and make it more of a destination for the whole country, not just London. I’m a web developer but I’m working with some freelance content staff, and I thought I could run some features on local businesses for a start.”
Kirsty liked the sound of that. “Great idea. Only, don’t look at our website.” She winced. Due to financial constraints, she’d set it up herself with a little help from Helena’s son, Anton. However, it still needed a lot of work. “We don’t even have online sales set up. Please don’t judge.”
Ginger snorted. “Since my life turned upside down, I’ve been trying to leave my judgement by the side of the road. But if you want, when I have more time, we could have a look at it over a bottle of wine, and I could give you my professional advice. Seeing as we’re friends now.” She gave her a piercing grin that somehow looked familiar.
Kirsty beamed right back. “You’re on. Our website needs all the help it can get. Professional or otherwise.”
A few moments passed as Ginger took in her surroundings. Kirsty followed her gaze. Shelves of wine from all around the world, along with a stand of spirits nearer the till, and a more upmarket selection behind the counter. She also had a range of fancy crisps and chocolates, as well as a fridge full of cheese to accompany her wines. That particular addition had gone down a storm as soon as she’d introduced it a year ago.
“You haven’t thought about having a divorce party?” Kirsty’s conversation with Helena came flooding back.
Ginger quirked one carefully styled dark brow. Was that the original colour of her hair? “Do normal people have those?”
Kirsty nodded. “Apparently they do. My business partner went to one that was like a wedding. She’s been to a few. It’s quite popular in your 40s.”
Ginger let out another cackle. “So are golf and running, but you won’t catch me doing either.” She finished her coffee. “Although, maybe it is what I need. A public commitment to a completely fresh start.”
“If you need help, I run a party planning business on the side, too. So far, I’ve mainly done birthdays and anniversaries, but I’m thinking of branching out.” She paused, snagging Ginger’s piercing blue gaze. Another jolt of recognition. Kirsty ignored it. “But this is not a hard sell. Just a thought.”
Ginger stared at her for a few long moments. “It would be a brilliant ‘fuck you’to Dave, wouldn’t it? With his ‘I’m just not feeling it anymore’attitude after 15 years of marriage?”
Wow. Fifteen years. Kirsty’s marriage had blown up at the archetypal seven-year itch. But 15 years? She couldn’t imagine it.
“It could also be a great way of introducing yourself to the community. Embed yourself in the town. Give them free booze and a disco, and I’m sure you’d have a ton of friends for life.”
Ginger cupped the back of her neck with her right palm. “It would also be a fabulous way to show my old friends where I’m living. Show off my new home. Show them Ginger is back and ready to party.”
“It certainly would be.” Kirsty got up, grabbing both mugs. “Have a think about it, and let me know.”
Ginger got up, too, picking up two bottles of the primitivo from the shelf. “I’ll do that.”
Kirsty keyed in the purchase on her card machine, then offered it to Ginger. She inserted her card and entered her pin, placing her wallet on the counter.
Kirsty glanced down. She was no label aficionado, but even she knew the wallet was Gucci. Wine selection wasn’t the only area where Ginger was seriously flashing her cash.
“You need a bag?”
Ginger shook her head, producing a rolled-up carrier from her handbag. “The more I think about this idea, the more I like it. Plus, if I invite all my mates, you could have a few new clients on your hands. If our 20s were the time of weddings, our 40s are when we’re all breaking up.”
Kirsty smiled. “You’re preaching to the choir. I was 42 when I split with my wife.” At least now, when she said it, the words just felt like words. No emotion attached. It had taken a lot of work to get to that place.
