One Moment in Time

Low Shari

Description

THE NUMBER ONE BESTSELLER

Sometimes the best surprises reveal the most shocking secrets.

After three decades of marriage, Brenda Jones has decided to leave her husband, just as soon as they both return from a mystery trip with their daughter Zara. But she has no idea that Zara is flying them to Las Vegas to renew their vows.

Zara Jones has recreated almost every detail of her parent’s original wedding - now her only challenge is tracking down the two friends who were pictured with her mum and dad back in 1993.

Aiden Gregg is dealing with his own relationship woes when he receives an unexpected message from a complete stranger. WIth the help of Facebook, Zara has tracked him down and is asking if his parents are the other couple in the old photo? And if so, could he bring them to Vegas for a surprise reunion?

What Zara and Aiden don’t know is that thirty years ago, One Moment In Time changed everything.

Will rewinding the clock right the wrongs of the past? Or are they all counting down to a rendezvous with disaster?

Praise for Shari Low

'This book had me on the edge of my seat, whilst trying to pull me off by the heart strings. I devoured it!- - Laura Carter

‘I’d forgotten how enjoyable it is to read a Shari Low book ...funny, warm and insightful.’ - Dorothy Koomson

'Great fun from start to finish.' - Jenny Colgan

'There are only two words for Shari Low: utterly brilliant' - Carmen Reid

'A thrilling page turner that grabs your attention from the off. Highly recommended' - The Sun

'Totally captivating' - Closer Magazine

Sujets

• Multiple Timelines
• Mashups
• Holidays
• Siblings
• World Literature
• Women
• Coming of Age
• USA
• United States of America
• América
• 21st century
• Friendship
• Second Chances
• Sliding Doors
• Sibling
• Woman
• The Women
• City Life
• Wedding
• American
• États-Unis
• Pile et face
• Family Life
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 02 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804268698
• Langue: English

Extrait

ONE MOMENT IN TIME


SHARI LOW
CONTENTS



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue


More from Shari Low

Acknowledgment

About the Author

Also by Shari Low

About Boldwood Books
To Jan Johnston and Lyndsay MacAlister for Vegas, cocktails, a million coffees and years of laughter…
And to my love, John, and our family – who are everything, always.
PROLOGUE
LAS VEGAS – 19 MAY 1993

Elvis threw his arms out to the side, making the tassels that dangled from his white leather jacket quiver. The Elvis Loves Me Tender Chapel of Las Vegas was his white-walled, plastic-flower-draped stage, and the four people standing in front of him were his audience.
‘Do you, Brenda Doris Fulton,’ he sang, in a slightly less impressive voice than the man who had actually been Elvis Aaron Presley, ‘…take this man, Colin Jones…’ That set off a flurry of tambourines from the three pink-clad backing singers that the advertising billboard called the Chapelettes, standing to the left of Elvis. ‘To be your hunka hunka burning love and husband until your last day on earth?’
‘I do,’ Brenda whispered, tears falling, and not just because the fluorescent strip lights above them were bringing on a migraine.
Her response set the tambourines off again, and exclamations of ‘Praise be,’ rang out from the Chapelettes.
‘And do you, Colin Jones, take this woman, Brenda Doris Fulton, to be your wife and promise to love her tender until the day you die?’
Colin stared into her eyes and Brenda could see so many things there. Love. Fear. Uncertainty. Discomfort, because the air conditioning in the chapel was non-existent and either the heat or the occasion was making him sweat like a marathon runner. In the midday sun. Wearing a woolly jumper.
‘I do.’
‘Then, by the powers invested in me by Viva Las Vegas, Nevada and the Lord, How Great Thou Art, I now pronounce you man and wife. May you never be lonesome at night or have suspicious minds. Amen.’
The opening bars of ‘ The Wonder of You’ soared from a flashing boombox in the corner and Elvis and his Chapelettes sang two verses and the chorus while Colin and Brenda walked back down the aisle.
They’d already signed all the forms and paid for the ceremony before it began – presumably in case they changed their minds and Elvis didn’t get his dosh – so they just pushed open the heavy wooden door and stumbled out into the humid, sticky Las Vegas night.
And that’s when it hit them both.
Brenda, in a white summer dress, was the first to speak. ‘Colin…’ she whispered, making eye contact and feeling an unaccustomed shyness. She’d known this man for three years and yet now they felt like strangers. ‘What have we done?’
If she was looking for a confidence boost, or an inspirational suggestion, she was searching in the wrong place.
‘I’ve no bloody idea, Brenda. And I’ve no idea what we do next.’
1
ZARA



March 2023

‘How’s it going there, Inspector Gadget? Tracked him down yet?’ Millie asked, as she floated in from the front shop, bringing three buckets of white hydrangeas for the Miller nuptials centrepieces that night. It was a 6 p.m. wedding at one of the swankiest hotels in the city, so they had to be perfect.
Glancing up from her laptop in the corner of their workroom, Zara took in the oh-so-together vision of her younger sister. Even at 9 a.m. in her standard workout wear (ironic, because she would have to be bribed with cash and wine to go anywhere near a gym), Millie oozed elegance and gorgeousness, all dark corkscrew curls, toned arse and Cheryl Tweedy dimples. Zara, on the other hand, with her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun held in place by a pencil, her three-month roots, her denim dungarees and Doc Martens boots, was more on the low-key side of the fashion scale. Or, as Millie frequently categorised it, Joiner-Chic.
‘Still searching, but I think I’ve found a possibility.’ Zara pulled the pencil out of her hair, and her waves creaked slowly down to her shoulders, reluctantly fighting against the half a can of dry shampoo she’d fired into it that morning. Usually, it was only Monday mornings that were 5 a.m. starts at the flower market in Glasgow, stocking up for the week at Blooming Sisters, their flower shop in the West End of the city. But a pre-dawn Friday run had been necessary this morning to pick up some extra blooms for this weekend’s events, so bouncy locks were bottom of the priority list. Especially when she’d had to do the run solo because Millie hadn’t come home from wherever she had spent last night.
One of the very best things about their shop was that they also owned the two-bedroom flat above it. The flat had been a huge plus when they’d been looking for premises. For a start, it meant they were handy for late nights and early mornings at work, but also it meant they weren’t paying a separate mortgage or rent for somewhere to live.
Working together and living together might be a problem for some siblings, but the reality was that out of work hours their paths rarely crossed. Zara’s boyfriend, Kev, would come over, and the two of them would chill in front of the TV. Millie, at the other end of the genetic pool party, was a serial socialiser. If there was a shindig anywhere in this city, then her sister would find herself there, yet, infuriatingly, she still rolled home at the crack of dawn, had a quick shower, some coffee, then trotted downstairs looking like she was just home from a rejuvenating week on a beach. If Zara didn’t love her sibling so much, her self-esteem would have forced her to disown her years ago.
‘Ooooh, let me see.’ Millie gently placed the blooms down on the massive steel table that sat in the middle of their back shop, next to the boxes of lilies that Zara had already deposited there two hours before when she’d returned from the market.
The workroom slash office had concrete floors, plain white walls and floor to ceiling shelves packed with tools, trellis, chicken wire, vases and blooms. The long, steel centre table had been bought second-hand from an auction of equipment from a food-prep warehouse. The whole room was a chaotic contrast to the vintage beauty of the smaller front shop, which had been furnished with shabby-chic furniture and velvet sofas. Tilly, one of their part-time staffers, was manning the shop, which was just as well because it was going to take the next five hours to prepare the arrangements for a three o’clock delivery to the hotel, so they were in for a long day.
As always, Millie couldn’t join Zara at the desk in the corner of the room without commenting on her appearance. ‘Interesting fashion choice. House of Dungarees?’
Zara ignored her, leaning back so her sister could get full view of the screen. A Facebook page stared back at her. ‘Gary Gregg. Do you know how many Gary Greggs there are? Actually, not that many, but none of the ones in the UK were the right age. I tried Canada, Australia and New Zealand, because that’s always where Nicky Campbell finds folk on Long Lost Family . But zilch. Not even a possible match. This one though is a potential, although he lives in South Carolina.’
‘Have you been drinking?’ Millie asked. ‘Dad’s mate came from Paisley. What would he be doing in South Carolina?’
Zara scrolled down further. ‘I’ve no idea, but this guy is roughly the same age as Dad, and look…’ She pointed at the screen with all the conviction and triumph of someone who’d just tracked down a serial killer. There were only two posts on his profile. One showing a fifty something, square jawed, suit-wearing handsome bloke smiling at the camera and the other one featuring the same chap in a T-shirt, sitting in a garden.
Millie frowned. ‘What? He’s got a lawnmower? They’re not the sole preserve of Scottish people. He’s a bit of a silver fox, though, I’ll give you that. Clearly no stranger to a bench press.’
‘My talents are wasted on you. Look at his arm.’ Zara used the pencil to point at the screen and saw Millie having the same reaction she’d had. Stare. Realisation. Grin.
It was barely discernible to the naked eye, but it was there: the tiny rectangle, with the diagonal lines inked inside it.
‘A Saltire,’ Millie said, with rising excitement as she examined the Scottish flag tattooed on the gentleman’s bicep. It wasn’t huge and it looked faded, like it had been done when he was a younger man. ‘Oh, you’re good. Well done, sis. If the flower shop goes tits up there might be a future for you in private investigation.’
Zara gave a triumphant bow, then held a thirty-odd-year-old photo up next to the screen, a slightly grainy Polaroid pic that showed four people in their early twenties, two women and two men, standing under the iconic Welcome to Las Vegas sign. On the white band at the bottom of the photo, it had four names: Colin Jones, Brenda Fulton, Gary Gregg, Eileen Smith. And the comment underneath – Best friends on tour, Las Vegas, 1993!
‘I still can’t get over how young they look in this picture. So bizarre that they got married when they were younger than we are now. What were they? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?’
Millie nodded. ‘Yep. And we struggle to commit to a Netflix subscription.’
Zara chuckled, because, as always, her sister wasn’t wrong. ‘I gave up on Eileen Smith because there are a gazillion of them on social media and I figured it was a waste of time because she’s probably married and going under a different name now. But this guy… That is him, isn’t it?’ They both peered at the man on the far