Читать книгу What Happens Between Friends - Beth Andrews - Страница 9

CHAPTER ONE

NO, NO, NO.

Lightning flashed, a dazzling display that crackled the air with energy, made the hair on Sadie Nixon’s arms stand up. Ten seconds later, thunder boomed, vibrating through her moving Jeep.

She leaned forward to look through the windshield at the rapidly darkening sky. Clouds rolled, merged together. A strong gust of wind buffeted the Jeep, had her fighting to keep it on the road. She pressed down on the gas, strangled the steering wheel. Please, don’t do this to her. Not this time.

She passed the road leading to Knapp’s Creek. Glanced out the driver’s-side window. She wasn’t going to make it. She could turn around, she thought frantically. She was barely in Shady Grove, had just passed the city limits. She’d head west, maybe spend the night in Pittsburgh then come back tomorrow.

It was a good plan—and for someone who preferred to let life happen to her instead of bending it to suit each situation, that was saying something.

Yep, it was a solid plan. And it probably would have worked...if she hadn’t run into Jessica Gardner at Miranda’s Market. Jessica wasn’t a gossip, but what were the chances she wouldn’t tell anyone she’d seen Sadie a full day before she’d returned to her hometown?

Probably somewhere between zero and in Sadie’s dreams.

She didn’t have a choice. She had to keep going. Maybe, if luck was with her, the wind at her back and all that jazz, she would make it to her destination before it rained. Or, better yet, the clouds could pass right over Shady Grove, just...keep going. Wait to unleash their fury on some other unsuspecting town.

Yes, that was it, think positively. She’d use the power of her mind and her good intentions to keep the storm at bay.

She could have sworn she heard the Fates laugh in delight—seconds before the sky opened and a torrential rain came down so hard, so fast, the drops bounced off the hood, sounded like rocks hitting the roof.

Stupid Fates.

Scowling, she continued down Case Boulevard, her fingers tapping the steering wheel to the beat of Mumford and Sons’ “I Will Wait.” The dark seemed to swallow the beams of her headlights before they could do more than reflect the next twenty feet or so. Her windshield wipers put up a valiant, yet pretty much useless battle against the downpour as she sped along the familiar road.

It was coincidence, of course. One of those freakishly weird anomalies that had a thunderstorm appearing as she happened to return to town for the first time in three years.

Just as it was coincidence, and only coincidence, that had some natural disaster occurring every time she returned home.

Every. Single. Time.

Rainstorms. Floods. Hail. A tornado. And that memorable freak spring blizzard when she’d driven in from Dallas back when she’d been twenty-two.

Maybe the Fates could hit the town with hordes of locusts or an earthquake next time. Just to mix it up a bit. All these rainstorms were getting predictable.

And she hated being called Cyclone Sadie.

Oh, and of her grandmother genuflecting every time Sadie came to visit.

Jeez, an ancient tree limb happens to fall onto her gram’s beloved Cadillac at the exact same moment Sadie knocks on the front door for an impromptu visit and suddenly Sadie’s the spawn of Satan.

Bringing evil omens.

Which was ridiculous. There were no such things as omens—evil or otherwise. Sure, a person could follow the signs, but Sadie preferred to trust in her own instincts. So when those instincts had told her to get the heck out of Dodge—or in her case, New Orleans—she’d packed up her worldly belongings and skedaddled.

Not slowing, she turned the defrost up to high and leaned forward, squinting to make out the white center line dissecting the road. If only she could remember to check the weather forecast before any actual skedaddling took place, she’d be golden.

As for her current streak of bad luck... Well, it had to end sometime. Her fortunes would turn around soon. They always did. Highs and lows and all that. Such was life.

It was like being on an endless roller-coaster ride. The slow, jerky ascents, quick, stomach-tumbling drops and body-shaking twists and turns made getting out of bed each day worthwhile. Interesting. Exciting.

She wouldn’t want it any other way.

The flat, straight, in-the-middle times were so calm. So...boring.

She might be at rock bottom, but she’d had fun on the way down. And now, there was nowhere else to go but up.

Telling herself she felt better about the whole crappy situation that was her current life, Sadie reached for the coffee she’d picked up at Miranda’s Market. She took her eyes off the road for a split second—barely a fraction of a split second, really—but when she glanced up, the cup to her mouth, a huge dog stood in the middle of the street.

Her heart leaped to her throat. Time seemed to slow as she stomped on the brakes and yanked the wheel hard to the left. The Jeep fishtailed, the force causing the back end to shake violently before hitting a patch of water and skidding off the road. The vehicle spun once...twice...before the rear driver side slammed into what felt like a brick wall, jerking Sadie hard to the side. Her seat belt cut into her shoulder. Her head snapped sideways, hitting the side window with a sharp thud.

Her vision blurred, then went black....

She couldn’t have been out more than a minute because when she came to, the same Rihanna song that had started when she’d been spin, spin, spinning, was still playing on the radio.

Sadie peeled her eyelids open, breathed deeply then winced at the pain on the side of her head. Gently probing the area with her fingertips, she brushed against a rising bump. Ouch.

She glared upward—at the approximate spot where she was sure the Fates were gloating down at her.

She slowly stretched then squirmed, flexed her toes in her sandals, curled and straightened her fingers. Other than the bump on her head and what was sure to be a lovely mark on her chest from the seat belt, nothing was broken.

The song had reached her favorite part, but at the moment, the notes jarred her teeth, ran over her already ragged nerves. She shut the radio off, her hands and breathing both unsteady. Leaning to the left, she stared out the driver’s-side window. She could see now that she hadn’t hit a brick wall, but a four-foot-wide brick pillar, one of two holding the large, cheery sign towering over her.

She couldn’t make it out clearly, not with the rain and her windows fogging up and all, but she already knew it showed a deliriously happy family of four enjoying a picnic alongside the river. In the background, boats dotted the water, the sky was clear, the sun shining brightly. An ornate steel bridge led to the town of Shady Grove.

On a red plaid blanket spread over the grassy bank, the mother—a testament to the eighties with her acid-washed shorts and big hair—read to her cherubic daughter. Off to the side, father and son tossed a baseball. And across that incredibly blue sky, written as if the words had been spun out of fluffy white clouds, was a simple salutation.

Welcome to Shady Grove—where everyone feels at home!

It was the same sign that had greeted her over twenty years ago when she and her mother had moved here. Her first glimpse of what life was going to be like in this small, western-Pennsylvanian town nestled amidst the rolling hills. Traditional. Idyllic.

Sheltered. Tedious.

A far cry from how they’d lived when Sadie’s father had been alive, when each day brought with it a new adventure—be it a trip to the zoo or a spontaneous move to another state. Life with Victor Nixon had been unpredictable, unstructured and always, always exciting.

She missed him. After all these years, she still missed him so much.

Sighing, she shut her eyes and willed the headache pressing against her temples to subside. What the heck had sent that dog out on a night like this anyway?

Her eyes flew open. Crap. The dog.

Unbuckling her seat belt with one hand, she turned off the Jeep with the other, then grabbed the small flashlight from the glove box. She bolted out into the rain. Her feet slid out from under her and she went down on her knees.

Double crap.

She glanced at the heavens—and almost drowned from the deluge. She lowered her head, but rain still stung her face, plastered her hair to her cheeks, the back of her neck.

Didn’t whoever was in charge upstairs have any idea how hard it was to get mud out of cotton? You’d think they could cut her some slack, at least until she found the dog.

A bolt of lightning lit the sky. But it didn’t strike her dead.

She’d take that as a sign she could safely continue on her way.

Staying in the beams of her headlights, she carefully made her way to the side of the road. No dog. Of course not. That would be way too easy.

Thunder rumbled, echoed across the valley.

She rolled her eyes and turned on the flashlight. Yeah, yeah. She got it. She was a puny mortal, helpless against the whims of fate and the wants of a higher authority. Whoop-de-freaking-do.

As if she wanted to be an all-powerful entity. Please. There was way too much responsibility involved.

When she screwed up—as she was wont to do—she only had herself to worry about.

At the other side of the road, Sadie peered into the woods but couldn’t make out much, other than trees, trees and more trees. She tucked the flashlight between her arm and side and clapped her hands. “Here, doggie.”

From the corner of her eyes, she caught movement to her right. She stilled. There it was again. A flash of white, the glint of two eyes.

“Hi.” She smiled and stepped forward, kept the light aimed at the ground. The dog startled and slunk off into the shadows. “I’m not going to hurt you. That’s it,” she continued when the dog approached again. She extended her free hand. “Come on, gorgeous. I don’t bite. Unless you bite me first, then all bets are off.”

The dog cocked his—or her—large head, considered Sadie’s hand for a moment then delicately sniffed her fingers. She took the opportunity to check under the hood—so to speak.

Boy.

“You’re a handsome fella, aren’t you?”

He inclined his head as if to agree.

Then again, most males who were good-looking knew it, so why should a dog be any different? He was mostly black with a white chest and face, and a black left ear and patch around his right eye. Definitely a mixed breed, but she could see some boxer in his square face, the shape of his pointy ears.

Sadie rubbed his head gently. He didn’t wear a collar. “I bet your name is Patches or Spot or something equally uninspired and unoriginal. But a true king like you deserves something much more majestic, don’t you think?” She cupped his face in her hands. “And, as there’s only one king worthy of being christened after, I hereby name you Elvis.”

He licked her wrist.

“I hope that means you like your new name and aren’t trying a taste test before chomping on my arm. I’m rather fond of it. My arm. And your new name, actually.” She straightened. “My mom always said I didn’t know enough to get out of the rain and I’d really like to prove her wrong—for once. What say we head into town? How do you feel about birthday cake?”

Elvis looked her up and down, then obviously finding her lacking, sat.

“Yeah? Well, let me tell you something, Your Majesty, you don’t look so hot right now, either. And you stink.”

The dog turned his face away, his black-and-pink nose lifted in the air.

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive. Just speaking the truth here. Look, my Jeep has a brand-new dent—which means I’m going to hear, yet again, how careless, reckless and hopeless I am—all because of you. But you don’t see me holding a grudge, do you? You have two choices here—you can come with me, get something to eat, get cleaned up and spend the rest of the night warm and dry. Or you can stay here, wet and miserable and, yes, smelly. What’s it going to be?”

Elvis looked at her, then the woods, the road and then her again.

“Really? This is something you have to think about?” Her hair was dripping and she was soaked through to her underwear—which was sticking to her skin. She blinked water from her eyes. “You know what? Maybe I should rescind my offer. After all, it looks as if you’re doing just dandy without any help from me.”

Elvis got to his feet slowly and, it seemed to Sadie, with a great deal of resignation, and crossed to her. Nudged her thigh with his head.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what I thought.”

He followed her to the Jeep. She opened the passenger-side door and he hopped onto the seat, lifting and lowering his legs—all the better to spread muddy paw prints over the light gray fabric.

“You missed a spot,” Sadie told him, but he ignored her sardonic tone and sat, looking very much the regal ruler ready to be driven to his castle.

She shut the door and hurried around to the driver’s side. “I bet you’re starving,” she said as she started the engine. “After birthday cake, we’ll order a pizza. Double pepperoni.”

Shivering, she buckled up and blasted the heat. Thanks to the Jeep’s four-wheel drive, they were on the road a minute later, heading toward Shady Grove—and all the memories, conflicted familial relationships and emotional baggage that went along with going home.

* * *

“WELL?” JAMES MONTESANO’S mother asked as she measured grounds into the coffeemaker.

Through the open window over the sink, the scents of rain and wood smoke drifted into the kitchen. When the rain started twenty minutes ago, the birthday guests had abandoned the fire ring set on the lower tier of the three-level deck to settle inside, either in the living room, where James’s grandfather played the fiddle, or in the game room in the basement, from where bursts of raucous laughter—along with the occasional good-natured curse—floated upstairs.

No matter what the occasion, the time of year or the weather, his mom threw one hell of a party.

“Well what?” He eyed the leftover sheet cake. They’d done the whole singing thing—though he’d gotten out of the candle tradition by letting his seven-year-old nephew, Max, blow them out. James had already had two scoops of ice cream plus two servings of the German chocolate cake with coconut pecan frosting.

Aw, what the hell? If a man couldn’t have extra cake on his birthday, what was the point of getting another year older?

Stretching onto her toes, Rose reached over the sink and turned the handle, closing the window. “What do you think of Anne?”

James cut a large square of cake and set it on one of his mother’s fancy dessert plates. He licked frosting from the side of his thumb. “Who?”

“Anne.” His mother snapped the lid of the coffeemaker shut and turned it on. “Anne Forbes. The pretty brunette in the dark blue dress?” He shook his head and she sighed heavily. “The new painter?”

Right. Kloss Painting and Wallpaper’s newest hire. Brunette. Blue dress. Early thirties. “She seems capable. Has some good ideas for the kitchen and dining room at Bradford House.”

Montesano Construction was nearing completion of their renovations of the one-hundred-year-old Victorian. Still, there was quite a bit to do before they moved on to the next job, and if James wanted to keep them on schedule—and James always, always wanted to keep his father’s company on schedule—he needed to check on the delivery of that claw-foot tub.

He pulled out his phone and opened the calendar function.

“Ahem.”

“I’m not calling anyone,” he said, not bothering to so much as glance over at her. He didn’t have to. He’d been on the receiving end of his mother’s do-not-mess-with-me look often enough that he could feel it—he didn’t need to see it. Moms. Nothing diminished their kick-ass powers. Not even celebrations of their child’s birth. “I’m just making a note.”

His entire family ragged him endlessly about how often he was on his phone. How the hell did they think so many things got done if he didn’t have his notes and reminders and schedules to keep the company on track?

He put the phone in his pocket, picked his cake up again only to freeze—the fork raised halfway to his mouth—to find Rose staring at him as if his brain had leaked from his ears and oozed onto the custom-built butcher block topping the center island.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you spent a good twenty minutes in conversation with Anne and the only thing you can say is that she’s—” Rose’s mouth twisted “—capable.”

He ate the bite of cake. Silently urged the coffee to hurry up and brew. “What’s wrong with capable? You want us to work with inept subcontractors?”

She grabbed cream from the stainless-steel fridge, slammed the door shut. An attractive woman despite the extra pounds in her hips and thighs, her face was a softer, rounder version of the beautiful girl she’d once been. Her chin-length hair was still dark, her face showing only faint signs of age. “I want you to notice when there’s an attractive, intelligent, interesting, single woman right in front of you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You said you invited her because she’s new in town.”

“She is.”

“And because Kloss’s recently hired her.”

“They did.”

“And because you wanted us to get to know her, since we’ll be working with her so closely at Bradford House.”

Rose added her delicate china sugar bowl—the one James and his brothers had bought for Mother’s Day a good twenty years ago to replace the one they’d broken during an impromptu, and ill-advised, indoor game of soccer—to a large serving tray. “I’m well aware of what I said.”

“You forgot to mention you were setting me up with her,” he said in a thoughtful, patient and completely reasonable tone. He was nothing if not a thoughtful, patient and reasonable man, damn it.

He stabbed another bite of cake.

“No one has set you up. All I did was invite Anne to the party for all the reasons I mentioned and you so helpfully repeated. If you two hit it off, great. If not...” She shrugged, though the look she shot him clearly said if he didn’t hit it off with Anne, he was an idiot. “No harm done, then.”

“You’re sneaky.”

“I prefer to think of it as multitasking. I help someone new to town feel welcome, introduce her to a few friends and possibly help you find your future wife.”

He set his empty plate aside. “Sneaky and scary.”

“Relax. No one’s forcing you to the altar. I’m just showing you an option.”

Thunder boomed and his sweet-natured dog, Zoe, a German shepherd/husky mix, whined and nudged the side of his leg. He patted her head, but kept his gaze on his mother. “Anyone ever tell you you’d make a hell of a used-car salesperson?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She set cups and saucers on the tray. “Why don’t you open a couple more bottles of wine and take them around to the guests? Make sure one is merlot.”

He went to the other side of the square island and searched through the well-stocked, built-in wine rack. Pulled out a bottle of merlot along with one of pinot blanc. “Don’t tell me, Anne prefers merlot.”

Beaming, Rose patted his cheek. “You always were a bright child.”

Bright enough to know arguing with his mother would do him no good. The best way to handle this was to grin and bear it.

He opened the bottle of white, set it aside to breathe. He didn’t have anything against Anne, or pretty brunettes in general. But he could, and often did, get his own dates. He didn’t need his mommy setting him up.

“Dad wants to know if the coffee’s ready,” James’s younger brother, Eddie, said as he came through the kitchen door.

“The regular is about done,” Rose said, “but the decaf is going to take a few minutes.”

Eddie grabbed a cup from the tray and reached for the pot. “He won’t know the difference.”

Rose slapped the back of his hand. “If you give him regular, he won’t sleep. And when your father doesn’t sleep, I don’t sleep. Mostly because he keeps me awake until the wee hours of the morning with all his tossing and turning. You’ll give him decaf or I’m sending him home with you and Max tonight.”

“No need for threats. I’ll give him decaf.” He turned to James. “Meg Simpson’s looking for you. Said she wants to discuss us doing an addition at their cottage on the lake next year.”

“She’ll have to wait,” he said mildly, lifting the merlot bottle. “I’m getting my future wife a drink.”

Eddie raised his dark eyebrows. Shorter than both James and their youngest brother, Leo, but broader through the shoulders, he had their father’s muscular build and their mother’s hazel eyes. “Future wife?”

Nodding, James pulled the cork from the merlot. “It’s all thanks to Mom. She got me a girl for my birthday.”

Rose shook her head. “Now, James. Really. A girl?”

“Sorry. Woman.”

Eddie helped himself to a strawberry from the fruit-and-cheese tray Rose was putting together. “She got me a watch for my last birthday.”

“Maybe she’ll get you your very own woman for Christmas,” James said.

Eddie gave one of his reticent shrugs. “A man can hope.”

“Meg Simpson wants to talk to you,” Leo told James as he came in carrying dirty dessert dishes.

“Yeah. I got that memo.”

Leo put the plates in the sink. “A customer wants to talk to you about doing a new job and you’re not racing out there with your handy schedule and charts and whatnot?” He studied each of them, his dark eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Mom got him a girl for his birthday,” Eddie said.

“Yeah?” Leo grinned, slow and wicked. “Which one?”

“Kloss’s new painter,” James said. “Tall brunette in a blue dress in the living room.”

Leo and Eddie exchanged a glance then both walked out only to return less than thirty seconds later. “She’s hot,” Leo said. “Excellent legs, nice ra—”

Rose slapped him upside the head.

“Shoes,” he amended quickly, holding his hand over the spot she’d slapped. He stepped out of range. “Really nice shoes. Good choice, Mom.”

“Thank you,” she said, pouring the regular coffee into an insulated carafe. “I’m glad one of my sons appreciates my efforts.”

“Guilt?” James asked. “That’s beneath you.”

Leo smiled, the same smile that had made fools of hundreds of women. Females. Always falling for a pretty face. “If he doesn’t want her, can I have her?”

“Absolutely not.” Rose turned to James. “My goodness, the way you’re acting, you’d think I bought you a Russian mail-order bride and had you legally wed without your knowledge. All I did was invite a lovely, interesting, nice woman to your party. Is that so wrong?” she cried with the dramatic flair he’d come to know and love.

Eddie pursed his lips and, as usual, wisely kept quiet. Leo rolled his eyes.

James showed his appreciation with quiet applause that had Zoe lifting her head, her tail wagging. “That was true Oscar material. Bravo.”

Leo snorted. “I’ve seen her do better. It was lacking something. It needed more...action. Drama. Maybe next time,” he told Rose, “thump your fist over your heart. Gnash your teeth. Rip at your hair. Don’t hold back.”

Rose gave him one of her patented disdainful sniffs. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“Hey, you know my motto—go big or go home.”

“I wish you’d go home,” James said with feeling. He turned to his mom. “And I wish you wouldn’t set me up, especially without asking first. Especially on my birthday,” he added.

Guilt may have been beneath his mom, but he wasn’t above using it himself.

Sometimes a man had to fight fire with fire.

Rose rounded her eyes. “It’s your birthday? Today? Why, that must’ve completely slipped my mind, which is strange as I’m usually good with dates and things. Oh...wait...” Frowning, she pressed her fingertips against her temples. “Is today the twenty-first? Because I’m getting this vague memory of being in labor on this date years ago for...let me see...”

“Twenty-nine and a half hours,” James, Eddie and Leo said in unison.

Rose’s hazel eyes gleamed, but her expression remained as serious as a heart attack. “Yes, that’s right. It’s all coming back to me now. Then again, it’s hard to forget twenty-nine—”

“And a half,” the brothers added.

“Twenty-nine and a half hours of excruciating pain. And that’s not even including pushing you—and your rather large head—out.”

Wincing, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach, James rubbed the back of his regular-size head. And conceded defeat. “I appreciate it. I think. Next year, I’m throwing you a party.”

“The flowers you send every year are more than enough, thanks.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Can’t you give Anne a chance? Just talk to her. Get to know her a bit. That’s all I’m asking.”

He sighed. He knew his mom wanted him settled. Married.

Hell, he wanted that, too. Wanted a family of his own, a wife in his bed, a couple of kids running around his house. He’d always figured it hadn’t happened yet because it wasn’t meant to, but that it would. Someday.

Since he had no control over when, exactly, that day would arrive, he didn’t bother worrying about it. It was useless, and a waste of energy, to fight the ebb and flow of life. Better to focus on keeping your head above water and just ride the waves out.

But maybe, this one time, he could try paddling and get where he was going faster.

Even if his mother was doing the steering.

“I’ll talk to her some more,” he said. What could it hurt? “But I’m not making any promises.”

“No promises. Got it.”

She hugged him. Looking over her head, James glanced at Leo who mouthed, “Sucker.”

James flipped him off.

“Leo,” Rose said as she broke the hug. “Please make another pot of coffee while Eddie and I take these trays out.”

“If you keep feeding people,” Eddie grumbled, “they’ll never leave.”

Rose handed him the coffee tray. “Your unsociable side is showing again.”

“Does he have any other side?” Leo asked.

“God, I hope so.” At the door, she looked back at James. “Don’t forget the wine.”

She swept out of the room, as regal as a queen, as formidable as a Navy SEAL.

“Yeah,” Leo said, rinsing the coffeepot. “And don’t forget the engagement ring.”

James stepped forward, ready to dunk his brother’s fat head under the running water, when his phone buzzed. He took it out, checked the caller ID. And, grinning, answered.

“Well, what do you know?” he said, crossing his ankles and leaning back against the counter. “It’s trouble come to call.”

Sadie Nixon laughed, the light, tinkling sound warm and as clear as if she was standing next to him. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the ones who’ve earned it.”

“What’s life without a little trouble?”

“Peaceful.”

“I think the word you’re searching for is boring.”

“With you around? Never.”

“Flatterer. Now stop trying to charm me, I’m on a mission here. Guess where I’m at?”

“Jail?” he asked, earning him a curious glance from Leo.

“After that New Year’s Eve incident in D.C. you made me promise never to ask you to bail me out again, remember?”

“Hard to forget.” He’d left his date—a very friendly blonde—and driven the four and a half hours from Shady Grove, Pennsylvania, to D.C. in a blinding snowstorm. It had been worth it. Being with Sadie was always worth it. “Not jail, then.”

“You’ll never guess—”

“Then why did you ask me to?”

“—so I’ll just tell you....” He was surprised she didn’t tap out a drumroll during her drawn-out dramatic pause. “I’m in Shady Grove.”

“No kidding? You at your parents’ place?” Dr. and Mrs. Ellison had left the party less than an hour ago and they hadn’t said anything about Sadie coming home.

Then again, most of Sadie’s trips to Shady Grove were unexpected. She was like a summer storm—you never knew when she would strike or how long she would stick around. And when she took off on her next great adventure, it was as if you’d been swept up in a tornado, your head dizzy and aching, your thoughts and feelings twirling.

“No, I had a stop I wanted to make first. Say, when did your mom have that stone retaining wall put in out front?”

“Two years ago. Eddie, Leo and I did it for Mother’s—” He straightened. “Don’t move.”

He shut off the phone, stuffed it into his pocket and walked through the house toward the front door. If he happened to glance in the living room, just to see if Leo’s assessment of Anne’s legs was correct—it was—no one could fault him.

And while he had every intention of keeping his word to his mom, he kept walking. But he didn’t want Anne Forbes. No matter that his mother had deemed her future-wife material. What he wanted, what he’d always wanted, was outside right now waiting for him.

He wanted Sadie Nixon.