Page 33 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Seriously? Let me see. Apart from having had less than a sixty per cent response rate to our invitations and fussy bridesmaids to please, some of our relatives are already demanding where to be sat for the banquet. On top of that, the Hong Kong observatory has forecast amber rainstorms that weekend. And don’t get me started on my brother.”

“Do you mean your wonderful brother who has not only managed to book the Melody Triplet String Trio to play at your ceremony, but has agreed to accompany them on the cello for your grand entrance. Although you have to tell me what song you want because I’ll need to find time to practice.”

Sammi squealed and jumped up, craning across the table to hug his head.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, letting him go. “What would I do without you?”

“Well, for starters, you would inherit our parents’ money.”

“They can donate everything to charity. I’d rather have my brother.”

“I’m serious, Sammi. Let me know what song you want. I don’t want to look like a total amateur up there. And the guest list will sort itself out. Don’t let anything spoil your big day preparations, or get in the way of the fight club this afternoon.”

They smirked at each other across the table, an effort for him because in the back of his mind he could still see the photograph of Daley and the anonymous woman in the society magazine. He really needed to talk to Daley and get the whole thing resolved.

“Why are you not working this morning?” she asked, back to sucking on her paper straw. “I thought you said this Saturdaywas the schoolgirl’s regional football league competition or something?”

“We had to drop out. Four of our players came down with bad colds during the week and, you know, we can’t be too careful these days. Don’t want to be accused of infecting kids on the other teams. More to the point, why are you not working this afternoon?”

“My new manager started this week. Asked if she could have the chance to run the show alone. She didn’t say as much but I think she wants to see how she gets on without me constantly looking over her shoulder. Does that mean you’re free this afternoon?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” Tommy knew Sammi’s smile only too well.

“Spoilsport. You’re supposed to be helping.”

“I am. I just agreed to play cello at the ceremony. I’ve even found a male plus-one to bring.”

“No,” said Sammi, the word sounding more like disappointment than surprise. “You can’t have.”

“Why not? You’re not trying to fix me up with someone, are you?”

“Of course not. I don’t hate anyone enough to do that to them,” she replied. “Who are you bringing? Not Devon?”

“No, Devon’s got a new man. I’m bringing someone you haven’t met. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Never use that word on a bride-to-be. Whoisit, Tommy?”

The phone in Tommy’s hand pinged with a message. For a second, he wondered if Devon was cancelling lunch, but when he dragged the display to his face, he couldn’t help smiling. “Talk of the devil. My date-to-be.”

“Who?” asked Sammi sternly.

“Mitchell. He’s my date to your wedding.”

“Mitchell?” Sammi appeared genuinely shocked. “Not the same Mitchell you balled out after the cocktail party? I thought you despised him?”

“We called a kind of truce. He’s not my usual type. A bit stiff and formal.”

“Real, then?”

“And he still thinks I’m an asshole—”

“I’m liking him more and more.”

“But, yes, he’s agreed to be my plus-one on the day.” Tommy read the message and smiled.

“Oh my God. You like him, don’t you?”

“Not like that. He’s a friend, Sammi. And we’re helping each other out.”

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