Chapter Thirty
Gage didn’t usually find it hard to keep secrets, but Tamara was making this one almost impossible.
She had been baking in every free moment to perfect her recipes, and he’d dutifully eaten more cakes and pies in the last couple of months than in his entire life.
When pressed on which was his favourite, he’d muttered that he’d happily eat the sharp-cheddar-cheese-and-chive scone with a touch of cayenne pepper every day. That’d made her laugh.
Alongside that she’d worked all hours to get the café exactly as she wanted for the grand opening in four days and must be exhausted.
Only this morning she’d mentioned wishing they could celebrate together quietly at home rather than go to a New Year’s Eve party at Nathan and Melissa’s house.
The impromptu gathering was all Quinten’s doing, and Gage wasn’t convinced it was a good idea.
Evelyn didn’t strike him as a woman who would enjoy being surprised, but there was a very genuine and poignant reason behind the plan so she’d hopefully play along.
‘Is that what you’re wearing?’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ She tugged a baggy grey jumper over her black leggings.
‘Don’t people usually dress up for New Year’s parties? I thought I might put a suit on.’ He grinned. ‘Not the white one.’
‘It’s not a fancy do at some posh hotel, so I don’t think we need to worry.’
Gage racked his brains for another way to persuade her to change. Were the others having as much trouble with their better halves? ‘I thought you might wear your new dress.’
After their Boxing Day lunch at Becky’s, he’d been dragged along to the sales in Truro. He’d talked Tamara into letting him buy her a stunning deep-red silk dress that clung to all his favourite places.
‘I’d love to show you off in it. Shallow, I know, but that’s me. I promise I’ll make it a very happy start to the new year when we get back.’
‘Fine.’ She sounded slightly exasperated, but he could live with that. ‘Actually I’d quite fancy seeing you in a proper suit.’
‘You mean you don’t fancy me out of one?’
‘Begging for compliments again?’ Her finger trailed down his chest. ‘Wear it and see what happens.’
‘It might not fit.’ Gage patted his stomach. ‘All those Cornish pasties have taken a toll on my six-pack.’
Tamara’s husky laugh stirred him. ‘Let’s put it this way — if you can’t squeeze into yours, I’m not wearing mine either.’
He conceded with a weak smile. ‘It’s at the flat. I’ll go change.’
‘You do that. I’ll walk down and pick you up en route.’
‘In heels?’
She snorted. ‘Ye of little faith.’
Deceiving Tamara still felt wrong, but he couldn’t break the promise he’d made to Quinten.
Evelyn’s original plan for a small spring wedding might’ve worked if Ophelia hadn’t deteriorated so obviously over the past month, despite her stalwart efforts to appear bright and engaged during the Christmas festivities.
Quinten’s idea to pull off a surprise New Year’s Eve wedding had faltered when he’d discovered both partners needed to sign the necessary documents at the register office for their intention to marry.
Then there was a mandatory minimum twenty-eight-day wait. Twenty-eight days they might not have.
They also couldn’t marry anywhere other than at a legally approved venue and Nathan’s house wouldn’t count.
Quinten had decided the lift it would give Ophelia to see her sister happily remarried was worth a little deception, which was when he’d enlisted Melissa and Nathan’s help.
Ophelia need never find out this ‘wedding’ wasn’t actually legal, and later the couple could pay a quiet visit to a register office to make it official.
Gage had just finished knotting his tie when a message popped in from Tamara.
It instructed him to come down to join her because she didn’t intend to risk her ankles by climbing up to meet him.
He checked his appearance in the mirror and smoothed down his newly shorn hair.
She’d grumbled after their shopping expedition when he’d insisted on getting a haircut, and had been only slightly mollified when he’d instructed the stylist not to go too short.
Compromise. A learning curve for them both. He locked up the flat and headed down.
‘Right, are we ready to . . .’ His throat turned drier than the Sahara Desert.
‘I knew the dress was too much. I should’ve put a proper coat on too instead of this silly thing.’ Tamara tugged at the gossamer-fine gold wrap that partially covered the creamy skin exposed by the daring dress underneath.
‘Too much? You’re gorgeous. So out of my league, I can’t imagine why you’re with me, but I’m not arguing the toss now.’
‘Wise man. You’re pretty hot yourself.’ She eyed him hungrily, and it wouldn’t have taken much to change his mind and whisk her off to bed. ‘That isn’t an off-the-peg suit. Let me guess, it’s a designer number from your days as Tori G’s arm candy?’
Gage turned the same deep crimson as her dress. Neither of them accepted compliments well. ‘Let’s go see in the new year in style.’
‘Good idea. Hopefully I’ll get to find out what you’ve been so devious about these last few days with the surreptitious texts and abruptly ended phone calls. With all your training, I thought you’d be a better liar.’ The corners of her lush berry-stained, glossy mouth turned up in a wicked smile.
Silence seemed his best option. They both glanced across at the empty pub, which was all in darkness. Yellow-and-white caution tape was strung all around the front, and large blue tarps covered the holes in the roof.
‘Sad, isn’t it?’ he mused. ‘Tonight should’ve been Pixie’s big send-off.’
They arrived outside Nathan’s house alongside Josie and Harry.
‘Do you know what these men of ours are up to?’ Josie pounced on Tamara. ‘It’s a good thing Harry never went in for undercover work because he couldn’t fool anyone to save his life. And voluntarily putting on a suit outside of work? Pull the other one.’
‘I don’t have a clue either and mine’s the same. Useless.’
Gage and Harry exchanged wry smiles, but said nothing.
The front door was wide open and they could see the house was heaving with people.
‘Melissa and Nathan are really pushing the boat out.’ Tamara’s eyes narrowed on him again. ‘A little get-together to see in the new year? Right.’ She shook her head.
‘Hurry up.’ Nathan beckoned them from the doorway. ‘We want everyone in place before they arrive. I’m afraid some of the guests will have to stand, but we’ve saved seats at the front for the book-club group and partners.’
‘Seats? And who arrives?’ Tamara asked, but Nathan ignored the question.
Gage took her hand and started walking. ‘For once just go with the flow.’
* * *
She made a quick head count of their group and the only people she couldn’t spot were Evelyn, Quinten and Ophelia.
That must mean something, but what was it?
Nathan was talking intently with someone she didn’t recognise, an older grey-haired woman wearing a sombre black dress, its severity softened by a lacy white collar.
Melissa, on the other hand, kept rushing around shushing people.
This wasn’t normal New Year’s Eve party behaviour.
As the doorbell rang again, Melissa raced out to the hall and muffled conversations drifted through. Evelyn gave a loud squawk and Ophelia gasped before letting loose a torrent of French. Melissa popped her head back around the door and gave her husband a triumphant nod.
Nathan cleared his throat. ‘Some of you have been brought here under slightly false pretences, but I hope you’ll forgive us when you discover the reason.’
‘Get on with it, or it’ll be next year before you’re done!’ Paul called out.
‘Right.’ Nathan touched the unknown woman’s arm. ‘This is Sade Collins. She’s a Unitarian minister and is here to marry our dear friends Evelyn and Quinten.’ His impish smile broke out. ‘I’m afraid we kept it from her closest friends, because—’
‘You knew we’d tell her.’ Josie spoke up. ‘The Back of Beyond Book Club sticks together, through thick and thin. We’ll let you off for once, but you’ll pay for it later.’
‘Abso-bloody-lutely.’ Tamara gave Gage a sharp poke in the ribs when his only reaction was a smug grin. Something sneaked into her head and she picked at it, struggling to remember the details. ‘This isn’t legal, is it?’
He shook his head and her hand flew to her mouth.
‘Quinten’s organised this for Ophelia, hasn’t he?’
His serious expression was the only answer she needed.
‘In that case you’re forgiven.’
Quinten nodded nervously around as he scurried up to the front. Always a smart, rather eccentric dresser, he’d excelled himself tonight.
‘The local fancy-dress shop must be missing an outfit,’ Gage muttered.
She couldn’t blame him for sounding bemused. The plum velvet suit was startling enough, but combined with a cream silk shirt fronted with a froth of cream lace and finished with a flamboyant plum satin cravat, the effect was eye-catching.
The room hushed as the ‘The Blue Danube’ waltz started playing.
‘That’s Evelyn’s favourite.’ Tamara pulled out a hanky and dabbed her eyes.
The sisters walked in, arm in arm, wreathed in smiles.
No one would think that the bride-to-be had had her wedding sprung on her five minutes ago and that the other was living on borrowed time.
Aren’t we all, though? She gazed at Gage through tear-soaked eyes.
I want every minute I can wring out of it with him.
Evelyn wore the same lilac sheath she’d chosen for Josie’s wedding when she’d been part of the girlfriend posse, a fun term they’d come up with for themselves instead of bridesmaids.
But tonight, her mass of silvery hair fell around her shoulders and perfectly set off the diamond necklace glittering around her throat.
Ophelia was in dark-navy lace and appeared even more slender, as if she were disappearing before their eyes.