One Good Friend Deserves Another Read Free

was, his brown eyes bright with mischief.
    Tall, mussed, and shirtless.
    And once again she was struck by the fact that she, little Kelly Palazzo from the North Shore, who spent every summer of her teenage years in rubber boots on a fish-stinking trawler, was an object of affection for this Princeton-educated scion of an old family whose smile stole her capacity to breathe.
    Trey hauled her into his arms. “What took you so long?”
    “Sorry I was delayed.” Kelly dug her fingers into his shoulders. He smelled like clean, powdered starch. “I couldn’t get away from your sister.”
     
    “Where’s Kelly?”
    Wendy glanced around the hotel lobby, now swarming with guests saying good-bye. Mrs. Pitalia beamed beside her daughter. Even Mr. Pitalia—normally a quiet man who preferred the comfort of his own den—stood with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking, a beatific smile on his face. In this swirling, chaotic crowd of mostly dark-haired Pitalias and Boharas, redheaded Kelly should be easy to spot.
    “I haven’t seen her since she disappeared into the ladies’ room with Dhara.” Marta scrolled through her email as she slipped a wireless headset in her ear. “Maybe she left without us.”
    “She wouldn’t have gone without telling me.” Wendy worried her pearls with her fingers. “She never got a chance to tell us what happened in there.”
    “Poor kid. With this mess with Dhara and Cole, I guess she figures she lost her matchmaker magic.” Marta dropped her phone into her purse and glanced up the street in search of a cab. “Hey, maybe she just bumped into Ravi—he’s an engineer, right? They’re probably so absorbed talking about the latest Star Trek movie that they forgot there was a party. Here’s your car.”
    Wendy turned to see the sleek white Benz pull up in front of the hotel. She took the keys from the valet and slipped a bill into his hand. “Marta, you know I would drive you both—”
    “Don’t be silly. No sane woman would drive into Manhattan during rush hour.” Marta tilted her head so one oversize gold hoop gleamed on her cheek. She gave Wendy a sly smile, showing off white teeth against bright red lipstick. “Unless, of course, you’re determined to miss that appointment with the wedding planner?”
    Wendy’s stomach did one of those funny little drops, like it did sometimes on Parker’s sailboat when they ventured into rougher seas. It was silly to worry about a meeting that would revolve around world-rocking issues like whether to fill the table vases with river stones or glass beads. Silly to worry about it, even though tonight she was determined to confront her mother about her sister Birdie.
    The sight of a familiar silhouette saved her from responding. “Ah, here’s my brother.”
    Marta lit up. “Trey! Where have you been hiding?”
    “Dancing with one of Dhara’s gorgeous cousins.” Trey sauntered over and leaned down for Marta’s airy, double-cheek kiss. “Missed you, Marta. We could have shown them how it’s done.”
    “Oh, how sweet, you,” Marta said, and then gave him a playful slap that would probably leave a mark. “It’s such a pity you’re a player.”
    Trey’s smile widened as he rubbed his cheek. “Know a hot Latino who can settle me down?”
    “Latin a, baby, Latina. ” Marta gave him a wicked smile. “Unless there’s something you want to get out of the closet…?”
    “You know me better, chica .”
    Wendy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Since the ugliness with Kelly all those years ago, she’d spent most of her adult life keeping her older brother, Jeremiah “Trey” Warner Wainwright III, clear of her friends. The patter that sounded so banal to her seemed to work wonders with an alarmingly wide range of intelligent women. Even worldly-wise Marta came to life in Trey’s presence, but Wendy knew Marta understood his type.
    “Come on, Trey.” Wendy swung around to the driver’s side. “Bitsy’s waiting for us at the