you again.’
He smiled and dropped a kiss on the cheek she proffered, and then the other as she turned her head expectantly. He nodded at the huge armful of flowers she’d chosen from the buckets outside the door.
‘It’s a bad rap when a woman has to buy her own flowers. Where’s Brynn?’
‘Aw, he had to fly on to Hamburg.’ She rolled her eyes back in her head. ‘Don’t ask what for, darling, it’s too grisly to repeat.’
Gabe laughed at her pained expression.
‘These are for Marla, actually.’ She waved her spare hand towards the flowers. ‘It’s her birthday tomorrow.’
‘Her birthday? Wow.’
‘I know!" Cecilia gasped. "Can you believe I have a daughter who’s turning twenty-eight?’
‘You could be sisters,’ Gabe smiled, still turning over the nugget of information in his head. ‘So are you two painting the town red to celebrate?’
‘Gawd, no! Gabriel, the girl drives me nuts! She’s ditched that boyfriend of hers and won’t even let her friends take her out for her birthday. Just wants a quiet night in, apparently. Whoever heard of that at her age?’
Cecilia gawped and placed a conspiratorial hand on his arm.
‘I mean, when I was that age, I’d already got a wedding, a baby and a divorce under my belt!’
Gabe hadn’t heard a word Cecilia had said since her confirmation that Marla had kicked Rupert to the curb. He laughed vaguely and shook his head.
‘Tell her to have a drink for me, yeah?’
‘Hmmm. You could always tell her yourself.’
Cecilia twinkled up at him. ‘I’ve got plans this weekend so she’ll be home alone, probably eating pints of ice cream and feeling sorry for herself.’
She tapped the side of her nose and waggled her eyebrows at him as if she’d just passed him a secret code, leaving Gabe perplexed that she’d made other plans on her only daughter’s special day. It was probably the first time they’d been in the same country for her birthday in a number of years; surely it would have been a good chance to celebrate? But from the scraps of information that Marla had shared, he knew Cecilia was a woman who put her own happiness in front of everyone else’s. Including, it would seem, her own daughter’s. It was hard not to warm to Cecilia’s infectiously loud personality, but he could see the threads of steel that held her backbone ramrod straight, enabling her to glide through life – and husbands – unencumbered by baggage.
Out on the street, he hesitated for a moment or two and then reached for his mobile.
‘Melanie, hi. Can you hold the fort there this afternoon? Something’s come up that won’t wait.’
Chapter Thirty
After waving her mother off from the step the following morning, Marla closed the door with a sigh of relief. She’d have indulged in a little jig around the living room if she hadn’t been concerned her mother might nip back and catch her in the act.
Admittedly, it had been easier to have Cecilia around since Brynn had gone off in search of his dead zebra, but, for Marla, having her home completely to herself for two days was a birthday gift in itself. Cecilia had gone to stay with a friend in London, leaving Marla gloriously free to kick her heels up – or, more accurately, to enjoy the haven of her own home for forty-eight hours. She didn’t let herself dwell on the fact that her mother had chosen her birthday weekend for the trip. They’d have plenty of opportunities to spend time together. It wasn’t as if her mother was going home to the States anytime soon – a couple of days ago she’d even muttered the idea of staying on for Christmas!
Marla turfed the scary prospect out of her head. Nothing was going to spoil her plans for a totally decadent weekend. It was a shame Emily had family commitments, but Marla didn’t mind. Spending time alone had never been a problem for her. And this weekend, even the chapel’s bookings had fallen neatly into place at the last moment, though not on an entirely positive note. A tearful bride had called two days ago to cancel their big day because she’d found her husband-to-be in bed with her best friend. Marla had winced with shock in all the right places, but couldn’t help the shiver of fear that it would be the first of a landslide of cancellations.
She banished that thought hastily.
If she let her mind wander down that path she’d spend the weekend curled up in a ball