Читать онлайн «The Wedding Party»
Автор Робин Карр
“You’re in for a fun surprise—just wait and see who walks down the aisle. Don’t miss this zany wedding. ”
—Catherine Coulter
All the stuff she thought she had handled began to come back one at a time. The Samuelsons, Stephanie, Dennis and Dr. Malone, Peaches—and Jake, his timing as bad as ever.
“Charlie!” Jake yelled. “Hold up, will you? I need to ask you something. I need a favor. ”
“In your dreams,” she muttered to herself. If I am afraid of commitment, she thought, Jake Dugan would be a good enough reason.
A flashing red light throbbed over her head and she turned to see that her ex-husband had attached his portable police beacon to the top of his car. He followed her at a safe distance, slowly, so that if a car approached from behind, she wouldn’t be mowed down. But then again, she wouldn’t need this service if he hadn’t shown up in the first place, which was the cause of her walking home in the mud and rain.
She made the right turn into her neighborhood. The flashing red light disappeared and Jake’s headlights strafed the houses as he made a U-turn and departed.
She stepped into her house and stepped into sanity. The lights were dimmed, the table set, candles lit, fire in the hearth and two cups of something steaming sat on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.
Dennis, having heard her come in, appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. The sight of all this peaceful domesticity warmed the heart of the drowned rat, and without stopping to consider the ramifications, Charlene heard herself say, “Dennis, do you still want to get married?”The Wedding Party
Robyn Carr
For Sharon Buchholtz Lampert,
for all the years.
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Prologue
Charlene Dugan started her day as usual—single. Not just unmarried, but autonomous, independent, free. She was forty-five, in excellent health and shape, attractive, successful in the practice of family law, the single mother of a grown daughter, the single daughter of a widowed mother, the significant other of a handsome, charming man and devotedly nonmarried.
Though she had been with Dennis for five years, they did not live together. They each had their own homes and liked things as they were. Well, perhaps Charlene was a tad more committed to remaining uncommitted; Dennis had proposed a couple of times. But she had been married once, only long enough to produce one daughter, Stephanie, who was now twenty-five, and she had not been even slightly tempted to marry again in the twenty-four years since. She was content. Satisfied. Fulfilled, even.
On this ordinary unmarried day there were events that, taken singularly—no pun intended—were quite manageable. But when combined, they so rocked Charlene’s world that by day’s end she was not only ready to consider marriage, she was inclined to do the proposing.
