Page 3 of One Golden Summer
Her parents shared a kiss before he poured. They were cute. Everyone told Kirsty that. They were the relationship she’d tried so hard to emulate, but had failed with quite some panache. It was a constant source of dismay for her mother.
“Stop being so adorable, you two.” Kirsty took the offered glass from her dad and swirled her wine around, breathing in the bouquet. She took a sip and let it sit in her senses, smiling as she did. Wine always made her happy. In an instant, her muscles went from tense to relaxed.
“You’ll findyouradorable, too. You just have to get out there again and look.” Her mum tapped her watch. “Time’s ticking on, and it’s been too long since Anna. Don’t waste your best years; that’s my advice.”
Kirsty couldn’t help her eye roll. “We’ve touched on Helena, the shop, and now my lack of a relationship. I’ve told you already I’m open to meeting someone, but I can’t just magic a woman out of thin air.”
“You wouldn’t even meet up with Shirley’s niece.”
Her mum had been trying to set her up with her best friend’s niece for weeks. Kirsty knew four women who’d slept with said niece, so she wasn’t about to go there.
“Can we move on to a topic that won’t wind me up, please?” Kirsty swallowed down a sigh with another sip of wine.
Her dad bumped her mum’s hip. “Leave her alone, Ruth. And your mother’s just looking out for you, that’s all. We both want the best for you.”
“Just saying,” Mum added.
“Keep yourjust sayingto yourself.” But Kirsty couldn’t stay mad at her parents for long. They were always on her side.
She took a deep breath and decided to start again. “Were you at the festival meeting this morning? I couldn’t make it.”
Sandy Cove’s annual Oyster Festival was taking place in five weeks. It drew crowds from near and far, and was a big deal for the local economy. Kirsty had wine and oyster tastings planned, along with a couple of other events at the harbour.
Her dad nodded. “It’s all systems go. As well as the parade, there’s going to be a music stage, an art trail and of course, the oyster eating competition.” He paused. “Are you planning on eating one this year?”
Kirsty shuddered. “I know I’m a Sandy Cove native, but that’s a step too far. You know my feelings on oysters. Nice to look at, terrible to eat. However, I am looking forward to the festival putting a boost in trade.”
“It might bring a flock of new women to town, too,” Mum added, a glint in her eye.
She was incorrigible, wasn’t she?
Chapter 2
Saffron Oliver pirouetted through a group of chattering tourists exiting Holland Park onto Kensington High Street, complicating her path to the café for her appointment.
A child collided into her legs, nearly causing Saffron to topple over. How could the boy, who was half of her five-eleven frame, pack such a wallop? The crash didn’t faze the child, who gleefully bounded away. Saffron shoved her obnoxiously large sunglasses back into place and whisked a lock of blond hair behind her ear. No one attached to the wild child apologised or even noticed the incident, too busy arguing in Italian accompanied by frantic arm movements. Saffron ducked out of the way and released a sigh of relief.
She slipped into the café, groaning when she spied the bustling crowd. Why oh why did Pearl always arrange to meet in one of London’s hot spots?
“Oh my God. It’s you!” A woman snapped a photo of Saffron on her iPhone, her fingers flying over the screen. No doubt posting it online without a moment’s thought to Saffron’s right to privacy.
Saffron tucked her head down, hoping she could complete the remaining ten steps without—
Another woman excitedly asked, “Can I get a photo with you?”
Saffron tamped down the urge to shout no. “Of course. Give me your phone. I’ll snap it for us.” She’d learned it was best to be in control as much as possible when taking pictures in the wild. Otherwise, she risked having an unflattering shot floating in the ether, resulting in seemingly endless mockery on social media and talk shows. Saffron Oliver was never allowed to have a bad moment or even a normal one. No, the thirty-two-year-old actress had to be picture perfect even on a stifling hot day in June after a restless night of sleep.
“There you go.” Saffron returned the phone with a wide grin, and pivoted in such a way to make it nearly impossible for another person to ask for a selfie without coming across as overly pushy. It’d taken her years to develop this manoeuvre after allowing one or two fans to get a photo so she seemed gracious, when she really desired to be left alone.
Taking a seat across from Pearl, Saffron folded her arms, irked by the elation on her agent’s face. She always wanted all eyes on Saffron. “Explain why I had to meet you here during a rush on cold drinks because it’s bloody hot.”
“Speaking of bloody hot, those jeans look amazing on you. Like the designer painted them on.” Pearl pretended to put a finger on Saffron, pulling it back as if on fire.
Saffron inhaled deeply, shoving her glasses on top of her head.
“Even if you aren’t happy to see me, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed spoiling my top client.” Pearl scooted Saffron’s drink over. “Got your favourite.”
Saffron sucked on the straw, the iced caramel macchiato satiating her thirst, but not her annoyance. “If you really wanted to spoil me, you’d let me enjoy my respite between shoots.”
