Sunset In Central Park

Gradually, the guilt had faded, like a terrible wound that eventually heals but never quite goes away.

She went weeks, months even, when she never thought about it. And when she did think about it, usually in the dark hours of the night, she kept it to herself.

It wasn’t something she ever intended to share. Not even with her closest friends. The time for that was long past.

“Can you imagine if Matt had overheard that? I’d definitely have to move to Seattle. And I hate the way she calls us girls as if we’re all eight years old. I don’t think a woman of fifty-three should call herself a girl. There’s something undignified about it. Or delusional. I’m not sure which.” Struggling with emotion, she dived back into the store and rubbed her hand over her cheek. Her eyes and throat burned. “I can’t bear it. Another rich guy the same age as me. And why don’t these men ever say no?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not your problem.” Paige rubbed her arm gently, her voice warm with sympathy. “I’m sorry we bumped into her.”

“So am I. All she ever talks about is sex. She loves embarrassing me.”

“I don’t think she’s thinking about you at all. She’s thinking about herself.”

“Let’s change the subject. Talk about something. Anything.” Frankie focused on the bright blooms. Flowers always calmed her. Nature was never embarrassing. “Talk about you. Please. Or work. Work is good. As long as it’s not weddings.”

“Did I tell you we won that piece of business for New York fashion week? They emailed me late last night.”

“That’s a real coup. The event is in September?” Frankie made a huge effort to push her mother out of her head. Use it or lose it, she’d said.

Frankie had lost it. She’d definitely lost it.

“Yes. It will be our biggest event yet, so that’s a piece of good news.”

“That is good news.” Her heart was beginning to slow. The awful burning humiliation receded, but still the words remained. Use it or lose it. The phrase was buried in her head like a tick burrowed into an animal’s fur. What was the rule when you’d never really had it? How could you use something you didn’t know what to do with? Other women her age were generally sexually experienced. Frankie’s experience boiled down to a few awkward embarrassing encounters from which she’d been relieved to walk away. And the detail of those was something else she’d never shared with anyone. “How are things with Jake?”

“Good. He’s pressing me to move in with him.”

“Oh.” The four of them had lived together in the brownstone for a long time. Frankie realized she hadn’t given any thought to that changing. “How do you feel about that?”

“Mixed feelings. I love being with Jake and his apartment is spectacular, but I love Brooklyn, too.” Paige hesitated. “And I’m worried about Eva.”

“Me, too. She was pretty emotional at that bridal shower the other day. But she’s doing better than she was at Christmas.”

“She puts on a brave face, but she misses her grandmother horribly. She pushes through the day, but she still cries at night sometimes. I hear her.” Paige stood back to allow someone carrying a large plant to pass them. “I can’t imagine how it must feel to have no family at all. Eva told me the other night that she feels like a boat that slipped its moorings. She’s bobbing in the sea alone.”

Frankie felt a flash of guilt. “Now I feel terrible for complaining about my mother.”

“Don’t. Your mother makes everything worse, not better.”

“But at least I’m connected to someone. What do we do about Eva?”

“I wish she’d meet someone. And before you frown, I know relationships aren’t everything, but I think that’s what she needs. She needs to find someone who appreciates how special she is. She needs a family of her own.”

“I wouldn’t want her to meet anyone right now. She’s vulnerable. What happens when it all goes wrong? She couldn’t take the heartache.” The thought of Eva hurt made her own chest ache. “She’s so trusting.”

“Not all relationships end in heartache, Frankie.”

“Plenty do, and it would break Eva. What if she falls in love and the guy turns out to be a lying cheating piece of—” Anger rushed through her. “I’d kill him.”

“He could turn out to be decent, honest and the best thing that happened to her.”

“In which case I might not kill him. But I’ve never in my life met a guy that would be good enough for Eva.” She hesitated. “Except maybe Matt.”

“Matt? My brother Matt?”

“Why not? They’re great friends. They’re always laughing and teasing each other.” Maybe that was the answer. If Matt were with Eva, she’d stop thinking things she shouldn’t be thinking.

“They’re friends but there’s no chemistry between them.”

“He’s smoking hot and she’s beyond gorgeous. What more do you want?”

“You think my brother is smoking hot?” Paige looked at her curiously and Frankie wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“I have eyes, don’t I? All I’m saying is that I think those two would be good together and if it was Matt with Eva then I wouldn’t have to kill him. I know he’d be good to her.”

Paige’s expression turned from curious to thoughtful. “They’d kill each other. She’d make him watch romantic movies and he’d turn to drink. No, I’d pick someone different for him. And anyway, Eva would never tolerate Claws, and Matt wouldn’t part with the cat so that’s their first major argument right there. She’ll find someone and, in the meantime, she has us. Thank goodness for friendship.”

Frankie didn’t disagree. Without her friends she never would have survived the difficult parts of her life. “I’ll stay with Eva the nights you’re at Jake’s.”

“You’d do that?”

“I don’t want her to be on her own and miserable.”

“That’s good of you, but there’s a flaw in that plan.”

“Which is?”

“She’d know you were only doing it for her.”

“Isn’t that what friendship is? Doing something for someone you care about?”

“Yes, but she’d be mortified if she knew I’d heard her crying and even more mortified if she knew I’d told you. She thinks she should be over losing her grandmother by now.”

“That’s crap. You don’t ever get over something like that. The best you can hope for is to learn to live alongside it.”

“I know. Let’s see how we go. In the meantime, I’ll carry on doing what I’m doing, dividing the week up. Maybe you can find reasons to look in on her the nights I’m not there. You don’t need to stay. So what else do you need to buy here?” Paige paused by another display. “Those pale pink roses are gorgeous.”

“No pastels. I want strong colors. Vibrant. Energetic. Electric. Futuristic. A fusion of color and scents.” She dug the list she’d made out of her bag and scanned it, anxious to do something that might stop her thinking about her mother.

They were surrounded by color. Pinks, purples, blues and yellows. Hydrangeas in more colors than she’d thought possible.

It should have been relaxing, but meeting her mother had fired up her tension levels.

She picked up some long-stemmed roses. “I didn’t ask where she was living.”

“Your mother? Do you want to know?”

“No. There’s no point. She won’t be there long.” Unable to concentrate, she stared down at the roses. “I can’t remember the last time we had a proper conversation. You speak to yours all the time, and about normal things. Mine just keeps encouraging me to have sex. Is there something wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Your mother isn’t an easy woman to deal with. Are we buying those roses? Because if not I think we’re about to be charged rent for holding them for so long.”

Frankie drove a hard bargain for the roses, talked colors and stems and then they strolled out of the store together and back into the street.

The sweet, sugary smell of the flowers filled the air, masking traffic fumes and city smells.

Thanks to Paige, she felt calmer.

She tried to imagine what life would look like without her friends.

It didn’t look good.

She stopped walking. “I’ll help Matt.”

“You will?” Paige sounded surprised. “What made you change your mind?”

“You did, reminding me about friendship. Matt helped me out when I needed somewhere to live. I can’t ever repay him for that. But I can do this.”

It was work, that was all. She was helping a friend.

There was nothing more to it than that.

Chapter Four

Friends are like bubble wrap. They protect you against hard knocks.

—Eva

Frankie stood on the roof terrace and shaded her eyes with her hand. The sun was baking and there wasn’t a breath of wind. New York in the peak of the summer months was stifling.

She’d seen the “before” photos and spent hours studying Matt’s construction concept, but plans and reality were two different things. He’d transformed a bland outdoor roof space into what promised to be a luxurious rooftop garden, perfect for both relaxing and entertaining. Clever use of brick, textured stones and different woods had created an architectural element that would be a significant part of the design.

It was stunning.

She felt a kick of excitement. For her, this was so much more rewarding than choosing flowers for a wedding. Those lifted the moment but this—she stared around her, imagining how the place would look when it was finished—this could lift a life.

She, more than anyone, understood the importance of green space and nature for health and happiness.

For her a garden wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity.

Through the turmoil of her childhood, their beautiful garden had offered peace and sanctuary.

No matter what she told her friends, there were times when she missed Puffin Island. Not the people or the past, but the place. She missed the sea air and the call of the gulls. Most of all she missed the feeling of being surrounded by nature. But she’d learned that with clever planting she could create the same feeling in her own backyard. And she could create the same thing for other people.

She turned her head and looked at Matt, who was deep in conversation with James and Roxy, two members of his team who were finishing off the hard landscaping.

His arms were folded, a stance that emphasized the well-developed muscles of his upper body. He rested one scuffed boot on a stack of concrete slabs.

Sunlight shimmered across his dark hair and a pair of sunglasses concealed the expression in his eyes but she could see by the way he angled his head and occasionally nodded that he was listening carefully to the discussion.

Some men did all the talking, as if their voice was the only one worth hearing, but Matt wasn’t like that. Matt was a listener.

She’d worried that working closely with him might feel awkward, but it was turning out to be easier than she’d anticipated. Apart from the fact that every time she wore her glasses he removed them, they were getting along just fine. She’d had very few moments where she’d forgotten to breathe and there had been no suggestion of intimacy, no repeat of that unsettling moment in her apartment. Of course that might have been because there was nothing intimate about working in the blaze of summer heat with a team of people.

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