Page 3 of A Very Happy Easter

As he turned to fetch his chair like an obedient little disciple, he’d flashed me a smile and then he’d winked.

Did he know what he’d done? He’d stepped into the conversation when I was struggling, and he’d taken the crushing weight away. Just as he had at Eisen’s Halloween party last year. Then, I’d been talking to Marc di Gregorio, a Hollywood star and notorious womaniser who’d inexplicably decided to make an appearance, and his flirting was making me uncomfortable. I’d already escaped him once, but he’d come back for more. Heath had handed me a glass and said, “Here’s the orange juice you wanted,” and with another man around, di Gregorio had quickly lost interest. Like magic. Heath had been polite, simply introducing himself as a not-quite member of my extended family because even though Eisen hadn’t proposed and Janie was still married to a slug at that point, it was obvious from the way they looked at each other where they’d end up. In front of a registrar, pledging their undying love to each other.

And I truly was happy for them.

I just couldn’t see that kind of fairy-tale ending for myself.

I snuck another glance at Heath. No, I really couldn’t.

Two

The mini-orchestra began playing the Macarena, which had to be someone’s idea of a joke. A handful of women got up to dance between the tables, led by Heath’s outgoing brunette, and several others tutted. With age came wisdom? Or were they just not drunk enough to dance yet? According to the schedule, we had ten minutes until the speeches began. Quietly, I slipped out of the marquee, headed for the garden temple where Eis and Janie had said their “I dos,” and checked my phone. Still nothing regarding Jazzi. I dialled the office.

“It’s me. How’s everything going?”

April answered the phone. She’d been with us for seven months now. “Everything’s good. Quieter than usual, actually. Jazzi hasn’t called back.”

“Dammit.”

“You’re really worried about her?”

“I really am.”

Over the years, I’d honed my intuition and learned to read between the lines, a skill that allowed me to help our service users find a safer path. Jazzi was stuck at a dark junction, and her husband was blocking the way.

“I’ll call you immediately if she gets in touch.”

“Doesn’t matter how late it is.”

“Got it.”

I leaned against a stone column and sighed. Then jumped out of my skin as a voice came from behind me.

“You okay?”

“Sheesh, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” Heath held out a wine glass, but it didn’t contain wine. “Orange juice?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure about that?”

A sigh escaped my lips. “I haven’t been fine for a very long time, but I’m feeling no worse than I usually do.” The stress of attending the wedding had been tempered by my lucky escape from Uncle Dennis, but the Jazzi issue was still plaguing my thoughts. “Okay, maybe a tiny bit worse. So, you’re buying a racehorse?”

Heath snorted a laugh. “Nope. But you kept checking your phone like you were waiting for a get-out call, so I figured I’d step in.”

“Usually, my assistant makes the get-out calls, but she was sitting next to me.”

“Tricky.”

“Indeed.”

“Dennis can talk for England.” Heath drank the orange juice and placed the glass on the stone balustrade that edged most of the temple. “You’re planning to hide out here for the rest of the party?”

Yes, if I thought for one minute that I could get away with it.

“So what if I am?”