Free The Ripple Effect by Elisabeth Rose

Wilberforce’s further along the road and walked back up to the house.
    The right heel of her strappy, new, high heeled sandals sank into the heat-softened tarred surface. Mid March and still stiflingly hot. The sun blasted down from a cloudless sky.
    Sailing and swimming off Spindrift would have been wonderful today. Joelle had a momentary pang of regret but really, the end result was worth missing a day on the ocean. Paul hadn’t called and when he inevitably did she’d be able to explain with great tact exactly how she felt. She’d had time to practise the perfectly worded phrases.
    No, she had no regrets about what had happened, only the manner of its happening. Her biggest regret was in regard to Shay. She’d let him get away. One cup of coffee was enough for her to realise this could be the man of her dreams. He’d listened to her, understood her aspirations, opened up about his childhood, admitted loving his family quite unselfconsciously, gazed at her with those gorgeous eyes. He was perfect.
    But he completely baffled her. He lived and worked in Sydney. He wasn’t coming back and he hadn’t suggested any kind of long distance courtship. Not even a ‘Can I call you?’ Her intuition must be way, way out of whack because she would have sworn he found her attractive when he first walked in to the shop.
    And the way he’d kissed her so gently, almost a loving gesture.
    Perhaps a doctor thought a florist decorative but not quite up to his intellectual level. Was Shay a snob? She didn’t think so but then, she had no idea what he was thinking. He hadn’t really told her anything much about himself beyond the adoption thing. She’d done all the talking. Joelle frowned and paused on the bottom step.
    He’d asked lots of questions in a chatty way. He knew far more about her than she did about him.
    The front door was on the latch. Dad’s favourite music filled the house with infectious Latin American rhythm—a samba. He insisted it forced people into the mood for celebrations and after years of hearing the pulsing rhythms and abandoned, joyous singing at every similar gathering, the family’s reaction to any Latin American music anywhere was automatic—party time.
    Guests spilled from the front room down the hall and on into the kitchen. The back garden would have been taken over as well. A typical Paice affair. Joelle exchanged greetings with two neighbours chatting by the front door, both clutching cold stubbies of beer. She knew fewer and fewer of the guests at her parents’ parties as the years progressed and their lives diverged.
    “Where’s Mum?” she asked.
    “Last spotted in there,” one of the men said and pointed.
    A girl in a waitress’s black skirt and white blouse came out of the living room and disappeared down the hall with a tray of empty glasses. They must have decided to splurge on a caterer this time.
    Joelle hovered in the doorway. Her mother was surrounded by people Joelle didn’t know, grey-haired women with full glasses, loud voices and cackling laughs. She glanced up, saw Joelle and rushed towards her with arms wide and a delighted smile. Despite the enthusiastic welcome, her mother remained in elegant control, stylish. Her hair behaved perfectly, her dress never creased. She never, ever lost her chic.
    “Darling. I’m so glad you’re here.”
    Joelle was crushed in a most unexpectedly warm embrace. How much bubbly had they drunk already? She returned the hug and kissed her mother’s cheek, breathing in her familiar perfume.
    “Happy birthday, Mum,” she said.
    Her mother took the proffered gift and unwrapped it carefully, casting little smiling glances at Joelle and murmuring, “how lovely,” and “thank you, darling.” Multi coloured silk swirled in her fingers and the hand printed scarf unfolded in a burst of colour.
    “It’s gorgeous, Joelle. Thank you.” Another hug and a kiss. “Come and have a drink, darling. How have you been? We haven’t seen you for too