Sarah Morgan - Sunset In Central Park

Title Page

Copyright Copyright Copyright Dear Reader Dedication Epigraph Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Acknowledgments Extract Endpage About the Publisher HQ An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2016 Copyright © Sarah Morgan 2016 Sarah Morgan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © July 2016 ISBN: 9781474047548 Version: 2018-04-11

Dear Reader

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Acknowledgments

Extract

Endpage

About the Publisher

Sleeping Beauty didn’t need a prince. She needed strong coffee.

—Frankie

She’d expected hearts, flowers and smiles. Not tears.

“Crisis unfolding, two o’clock.” Frankie tapped her earpiece and heard Eva respond.

“It can’t unfold at two o’clock. It’s already five past three.”

“Not the time, the position. Crisis is unfolding ahead of me and to the right.”

There was a pause. “You mean by the apple tree?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Then why not just say ‘by the apple tree’?”

“Because if you’re going to make me wear an earpiece and look professional, I’m going to sound professional.”

“Frankie, you sound more like the FBI than a floral designer. And how can there be a crisis? Everything is running smoothly. The weather is perfect, the tables are pretty and the cakes are looking stunning if I say so myself. Our bride-to-be looks radiant and the guests will be arriving any minute.”

Frankie stared at the woman crumpled against the tree trunk. “I hate to tell you this but right now the bride-to-be isn’t looking radiant. We have tears. I am the last person to make an observation on the psychology of weddings and all the fluff that surrounds them, but I’m guessing that’s not the usual response. If they reach this stage, it’s because they think marriage is a good thing, am I right?”

“Are you sure they’re not happy tears? And how many tears exactly? One tissue or a whole box?”

“Enough to cause a world shortage. She’s crying like a waterfall after heavy rain. I’m starting to understand why they call it a bridal shower.”

“Oh no! Her makeup will be ruined. Do you know what happened?”

“Maybe she decided she should have gone with the chocolate ganache instead of the orange sugar icing.”

“Frankie—”

“Or maybe she saw sense and decided to get out now while there’s still time. If I were about to get married, I’d be crying, too, and I’d be crying a hell of a lot harder and louder than she is.”

A sigh vibrated in her ear. “You promised to leave your relationship phobias at the door.”

“I closed the door, but they must have sneaked in through the keyhole.”

“The mood for this event is sunny optimism, remember?”

Frankie stared at the bride-to-be, sobbing under the apple tree. “Not from where I’m standing. It’s been a dry summer, though. The apple tree will be pleased to be watered.”

“Go and give her a hug, Frankie! Tell her everything will be okay.”

“She’s getting married. How can everything be okay?” Sweat pricked the back of her neck. There was only one thing she hated more than bridal showers, and that was weddings. “I will not lie.”

“It’s not a lie! Plenty of people live happily ever after.”

“In fairy stories. In real life they sleep around and get divorced, invariably in that order.” Frankie made a huge effort to smother her prejudices. “Get out here now. This is your area of expertise. You know I’m no good at the touchy-feely thing.”

“I’ll handle it.” This time it was Paige who spoke and who, moments later, strode across the neatly tended lawn, cool and composed despite the New York heat and humidity. “What was she doing immediately before she started crying?”

“She took a phone call.”

“Could you hear any of the conversation?”

“I don’t listen to people’s conversations. Maybe the markets crashed or something, although judging from the size of this house it would need to be a big crash to make a difference.” Frankie pushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Can we do these events indoors from now on? I’m dying.” It was the sort of day that made your clothes stick to your skin and made you dream of iced drinks and air-conditioning.

She thought longingly of her small apartment in Brooklyn.

If she were home now she’d be fiddling with cuttings, tending the herbs on her windowsill and watching the bees flirt with the plants in her tiny garden. Or maybe she’d be on the roof terrace with her friends, sharing a bottle of wine as they watched the sun set over the Manhattan skyline.

Weddings would be the last thing on her mind.

She felt a touch on her arm and glanced toward her friend. “What?”

“You’re stressed. You hate weddings and all things bridal. I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do them, but right now—”

“Our business is in its infancy and we can’t afford to turn them down. I know. And I’m fine with it.” Well, not fine exactly, Frankie thought moodily, but she was here, wasn’t she?

And she understood that they couldn’t be choosy about their clients.

She, Paige and Eva had started their and-concierge business, Urban Genie, only a few months earlier after they’d lost their jobs at a large Manhattan-based events company.

Frankie gave a little smile, remembering the giddy excitement and sweaty fear that had come from starting their own company. It had been terrifying but there had also been a powerful feeling of liberation. They had the control.

It had been Paige’s brainchild, and Frankie knew that without her she would very likely be out of a job right now. Which would mean no way to pay her rent. Without the money to pay her rent, she’d have to leave her apartment.

Unease rippled through her, as if someone had thrown a pebble into the quiet, smooth pond that was her life.

Her independence was everything.

And that was why she was here. That and the loyalty she felt toward her friends.

She pushed her glasses back up her nose with the tip of her finger. “I can cope with weddings if that’s what comes our way. Don’t worry about me. She—” Frankie nodded her head toward the woman under the apple tree “—is your priority.”