Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for A Season for Second Chances
- Also by Jenny Bayliss
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Discussion Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Is anyone else up?”
“The bride’s just gone out for a run, and your friend Pippa was already rearranging furniture when we arrived,” said her mum. “She drinks a lot of coffee, doesn’t she?”
Jeez! Doesn’t Pippa ever sleep? She seemed to go to bed last and get up first.
“I really like her,” said Shelley. “She’s a powerhouse. I think I’m going to enjoy collaborating with her.”
“Dad’s already mapping out all the places we’ll go once you’re bringing in the London money.”
“Are you going on holiday?” Nory asked, climbing out of bed and leaving Shelley to spread her limbs out into a starfish in her sheets.
“Holiday? We’re retiring, my love.”
Nory stopped mid-rummage through her toiletry bag. “Retiring?” she exclaimed.
“Semi-retiring. Your dad turns sixty-nine next birthday, and I’m not far behind him.”
“No, I know that. It’s just, I never thought you’d get Dad to retire.”
“Oh, we’ll still keep our hands in, you know your dad. But the business is doing well, and I said to him, ‘You’ve spent every spare minute of the last twenty years working on that camper van in the yard, and if we don’t make use of it soon, the only journey we’ll be making in it will be in our coffins on the way to the chapel.’ ”
“Blunt,” said Nory.
“Nothing short of sledgehammer sentiment makes it through Dad’s thick skull. We’re doing a European tour.”
“Like the Rolling Stones,” Nory added.
“Rolling Bones, more like,” Shelley quipped from beneath the duvet.
“That’s enough of your lip, Shelley Noel.” Nory’s mum waggled her finger in Shelley’s direction. “You planning on staying in that bed all day, Lady Muck?”
“If you don’t mind,” said Shelley, rolling over and nestling into the pillows.
“I’ll tell Thomas you were sleeping on the job,” Nory teased, through a mouthful of toothpaste foam.
Shelley huffed and climbed out of the bed.
“Let’s leave the countess to her ablutions!” said her mum.
“Laters, princess!” added Shelley.
Nory stuck two fingers up as the two women backed out of the room, curtseying and muttering, “Thank you, milady.”
A waiter passed a piece of paper to Nory as she left the breakfast room. We are go for salad! You may now tell the bride. P.S. I’ll be in the Winter Garden at 11 a.m. if you’d like that tour around the lost garden. Isaac. x