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Abby Sloane rushedup the ramp of the Jumping Rock Café, smiling and waving. The outside tables were full, and she knew most of the people who were indulging in a late breakfast or morning tea on a Wednesday morning. It was autumn but the sun was out in force, and everyone was making the most of this final burst of warmth.
“Oh Abby!” called Margaret Muller. “I heard about your new client. How exciting!”
Exciting was an understatement. This client was going to put her on the map as an interior designer and stylist. Abby had scored a bonafide Hollywood superstar, and she knew the locals were desperate for the lowdown on the waterfront mansion she and her husband had just purchased on the outskirts of Byron Bay. The British couple planned on raising their family in the area and everyone was buzzing with the news that yet another celebrity had taken up residence in their little corner of the world.
“Hello, Margaret.” She waved at the café regular. She was at the Jumping Rock café every day at 11am for coffee and cake. “I love that shade of mauve on you!”
Margaret beamed as she glanced at her blouse. “Thank you, darling. I saw your mother pop inside a few minutes ago.”
Abby nodded her thanks without breaking stride and entered the café.
“Morning, Emma.” She greeted the brunette who was hard at work behind the coffee machine. “How’s the weather?”
“Hey, Abby. I know! This sunshine is amazing.” Emma and her husband Brett had owned the Jumping Rock Café for five years and it was popular with locals and tourists alike. “Soy cap?”
“You’re the best!”
Rachel Sloane was deeply engrossed in conversation with her friend, Jenny. Both heads were bent over an iPad and Rachel was exclaiming while Jenny nodded on.
“Hi, Mum.” Abby brushed her lips across Rachel’s cheek, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine. “Hello, Jenny,” she said, taking the seat across from Rachel.
“Hello darling, did you order a coffee on the way in?”
“Emma has me covered.”
Rachel beamed and returned her attention to the iPad. “Jenny is just showing me some photos from Holly’s wedding in Bali last week.”
“Lovely,” said Abby, swallowing her internal grimace.
“It really was the perfect day,” Jenny gushed. “I know Holly and Matthew were several years below you, Abby, but they were high school sweethearts. Do you remember how cute they were?”
Jenny kept up the chatter and Abby kept the smile plastered on her face, determined not to react to the all-too-frequent jab at her unmarried status at the grand old age of twenty-nine. Wasn’t it enough for these people that she and Scott had moved in together? Not everyone wanted to drop a small fortune on a wedding and put their career on hold so they could have children and fulfil the nuclear stereotype of happiness. She almost wished someone would bring up her new client—anything to save her from this conversation.
“Oh, here’s Janelle now,” said Jenny, waving to Matthew’s mother. “We’re going to compare photos from the ceremony.”
“What a good idea,” said Rachel. “It takes so long for the professional photos, doesn’t it?”
“Yes! And the price we paid for the photographer…” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’d think it would be a faster process.”
Air kisses blew through the space between them as Jenny left to find a table with Janelle. Abby released a deep breath.
“Now darling, don’t rain on Jenny’s parade,” Rachel said playfully.
“I’m not,” she said, rolling her shoulders back and pushing her long blonde hair to sit on one side of her neck. “I’m just not keen on hearing about the wedding of someone who was ‘several years below me at school.’” She used air quotes to make her point.
Rachel chuckled and took a sip from her coffee. Abby noticed the dark rings under her mother’s eyes and the hollow beneath her cheek bones. Streaks of grey had started to appear in her blonde hair that sat in layers around her face and neck.
“Have you lost more weight, Mum?”
Rachel replaced her coffee on the table. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“You look tired.” Abby wasn’t prepared to let it go. Her mother had always been trim, but these days her skin seemed to hang from her bones. “Are you sleeping alright?”
“I’m fine, darling. Don’t fuss.” Rachel leaned across and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Menopause affects us all differently.”
Emma arrived at that moment with Abby’s coffee. Rachel drew back to make room for the mug on the table and abruptly changed the subject. “Tell me all about your exciting new client?”
“Ooh, yes,” said Emma. “Is she really a diva like all the tabloids say?”
