Chapter One

‘Oh, Lauren, you look…’

‘Hideous? Ridiculous? Like a blancmange?’

‘No, of course not, I—’

‘I know you love your sister, Rosie, but what on earth possessed her to choose this awful, vomit-inducing colour for her bridesmaids’ dresses?’ Lauren huffed, as she swished from side to side in front of the full-length mirror. ‘No one, and I meanno one, can pull off this shade of cotton-candy pink successfully!’

‘Don’t worry,’ Rosie giggled as she watched her best friend’s perfectly outlined cupid’s bow upend in a grimace of disgust at the confection of fluff Hannah had asked them to wear on her wedding day. ‘Haven’t you heard that shiny pink taffeta is the new black?’

However, Rosie had to agree with Lauren. From a kaleidoscope of choices in the spectrum of pink – fuchsia, cerise, even Barbie – Hannah had chosen a saccharine-sweet shade of bubble-gum pink so that she and Lauren resembled a pair of nervous flamingos as they loitered on the balcony of the hotel bedroom suite waiting for the bride to grace them with her presence.

She met Lauren’s gaze, and after a brief pause, they spluttered into fits of laughter – a welcome sensation that released the helix of tension that had been festering in Rosie’s chest allmorning. She was grateful for Lauren’s support, and their joint humiliation, but – to her distress – her eyes brimmed with tears.

‘It’s Hannah’s day, Lauren, and whilst I’ve been solely responsible for every other aspect of the Bennett-Hamilton wedding circus, all sartorial choices have been made by her, and her alone, something I hope to repeat regularly throughout the day to anyone who’ll listen! I promise you that I did try,reallyhard, but on the subject of our bridesmaid gowns she ignored all my pleas for elegance over outrage. If it’s any consolation, I agree with you; thisisone of the ugliest dresses I have ever been ordered to wear, and as you know, I’m something of an aficionado in that area.’

‘You are! How many are you up to now?’

‘Seven; lucky for some.’

‘Maybe next time you’ll get to be the bride,’ Lauren grinned mischievously. ‘And handsome, charismatic Mr Edward Phillips will be the groom!’

Rosie laughed. ‘What planet do you live on? Marriage is the last thing on Edward’s mind. Or mine for that matter. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have a serious relationship one day, especially with a guy like Edward, but whilst I’m loving dating him, I’m not sure it’s anything more than two people enjoying each other’s company. Anyway, in the great metropolis of Manhattan, all the sane guys are either married or career-obsessed, so you have to grab the exception when you can! Now come on, let’s get ready to present the lucky residents of Stonington Beach with the most spectacular wedding they have ever had the privilege to attend.’

‘What, in this dress?’ Lauren gifted Rosie an eye roll. ‘More like an impromptu performance of an eighties musical revival!’

Rosie smiled at Lauren’s quip, but she knew she was right; they did look like over-blown meringues clad in a froth of pink flounces, moreFolies Bergèreshow girls than twenty-first century bridesmaids at an elegant Connecticut wedding. Standing next to Hannah in the splendour of her expensive designer wedding gown – figure-hugging ivory silk with flattering, off-the-shoulder bodice, and a pleated organza overskirt – they appeared completely incongruous, comedic even.

But, of course, that was the whole point.

Upstaging by the bride was vital.

Nothing was ever enough for Hannah; always scrounging for more no matter whose toes, and dreams, she trampled on to achieve her self-focused goals. With no friends of her own in New York, she had boisterously supplanted herself into Rosie’s circle of friends, who, Lauren had only recently told her, tolerated her only because she was Rosie’s little sister.

Of course, this meant that Hannah had struggled to find willing applicants to fill the position of bridesmaid for her forthcoming, no-expense-spared wedding, and she had insisted that Rosie “persuade” Lauren to accede to the honour. With her freckled features, cute ski-slope nose, and graduated auburn bob, her best friend and colleague could grace any professional photographer’s lens and aligned perfectly with Hannah’s aesthetical demands for her wedding photography.

Rosie cringed when she recalled the afternoon she’d broached the subject of Lauren being Hannah’s bridesmaid. Her friend’s jaw had dropped in astonishment, and she had been adamant that, unlike Rosie, she was no doormat and would not deign to bow to Hannah’s totally unreasonable demands. Why on earth would she want to be her bridesmaid? she had argued. She wasn’t Rosie – willing to perform the supporting nuptialrole at least once every six months for a procession of former school friends and colleagues. Rosie hadn’t had the heart to point out that one of those “friends and colleagues” had been Lauren herself who had recently married her college boyfriend, Brett, in the Terrace Room at the Plaza, which had been the most enjoyable by far of her “best supporting bridesmaid” opportunities.

Once again, Rosie experienced a whoosh of sadness that her sister had found herself in the position of having no one else to call upon for the usually much-coveted bridesmaid role, and she would be forever grateful that Lauren had eventually relented when she had pleaded with her to do this forher, if not for Hannah. However, Lauren would not allow Rosie to forget the sacrifice she had made in the name of their friendship, and she could see from her friend’s eyes that she was about to launch into another of her squirm-inducing soliloquies.

‘Rosie, you really need to start standing up to Hannah.’

‘Please, can we not do this right now?’ Rosie strode from the balcony and perched on one of the suite’s elegantly upholstered chairs, but to her dismay, Lauren followed her and dropped down into the seat next to her. ‘Laurie, you know why I—’

‘Okay, okay, so her mom died when Hannah was only eight years old, that’s heartbreaking, it truly is. But she was your mother too, Rosie. How about Hannah supportingyoufor a change, just once thinking of someone else other than herself? Did she rush to your aid last year when Carlos ditched you? Did she even realise that her constant demands on your time may have played an integral part in that?’

‘Oh, no, I really—’

‘Of course she didn’t. Instead, she just continued to chase around Europe, floating from one handsome guy to the nextgullible girlfriend, or any random acquaintance willing to offer her a sofa and a good time. Jacob is the best thing that’s ever happened to that girl, and she doesn’t even appreciate her good fortune. Someone needs to have a serious talk with her. She’s about to become a married woman – it’s an opportunity for you to make sure she knows how lucky she is.’ Lauren’s face flushed with annoyance. ‘It can’t go on, Rosie!’

As she cowered from the arrows of blame slung by her best friend’s words of wisdom, Rosie felt like she had been kicked in the head and the solar plexus at once. Then she began to quail in her four-inch, pearl-and-sequined stilettos as she saw Lauren’s eyes narrow.

‘If you like, I’ll do it. I’ll tell her how grown-ups are supposed to act. You’re too soft on her gallivanting and selfishness. I’m sorry, Rosie, you’re a wet blanket when it comes to baby-blue-eyed and supposedly innocent Hannah; butter wouldn’t melt in that rosebud mouth of hers, or so she would have everyone believe. I, however, am not taken in by her act. She doesn’t deserve the sacrifices you’ve made, arestillmaking, for her. She’s twenty-two for God’s sake. She can take care of herself – and if not, Jacob can. It’s your turn to make a life for yourself outside Hannah’s orbit, Rosie.’

Lauren’s eyes softened. After all, she put in the same hours as Rosie did at Harlow Fenton, the investment firm they both worked for. Of anyone, she understood the pressures of keeping all the plates spinning in the air when the vagaries of the world’s stock exchanges ate into their family or leisure time.

‘Stop taking responsibility, Rosie. It’s not healthy. For either of you.’