Anxiety: Look out.
Me: For what?
Anxiety: Just look out.
That night Lanie got into bed at eight o’clock with a book and a glass of wine. The book was because she liked the idea of reading and also because it made her feel like the wine was justified and not a necessity.
Even if it was a necessity.
The habit had started six months ago on the night of Kyle’s funeral, which was when Kyle’s boss had to tell her that another wife had popped up.
Lanie had promptly moved out of the condo they’d lived in and rented a small town house in a different neighborhood. She hadn’t yet made it her own, so she didn’t have any plants or pets to worry about while she was gone, and any friends she’d had were work friends or had been Kyle’s friends as well, and everyone had seemed to fade away.
Or maybe that had been her.
With a sigh and a big gulp of wine, she sat back against the pillow. Usually when she was to-the-bone tired like this, she couldn’t think too much. But tonight she sighed and . . .
Proceeded to think too much.
This wasn’t a big surprise given all the recent changes. She was still on Capriotti property, for one thing. Room and board had been part of her two-month deal, and she’d been promised her own cottage.
She’d jumped on it.
Ten acres of land had been cordoned off on the far west side of the winery property, just north of a small, hidden lake. There the Capriottis had built several houses, all belonging to family members, and a small series of cottages lined up like a motel, dedicated to employee housing.
There was both good and bad to this. Good because it was free. Bad because it was very interactive and there was little to no privacy.
Even as she thought it, there was a knock on her door. She froze for a beat and then got out of bed and put her eye to the peephole. A guy stood there looking back at her. He was lanky but solid, wearing jeans, boots, T-shirt, a military buzz cut, and an impassive expression. She’d met him earlier when Cora had introduced him. Holden worked as a horse wrangler and extra ranch hand whenever he was on leave from the army. Though he was in his early twenties, apparently he’d lived here at the winery for a long time. He stood there holding—be still, her heart—a plate of cookies.
Lanie opened the door a crack.
“From Cora,” he said with a slight, slow southern drawl, and thrust the plate at her.
“Oh, but I couldn’t—”
“I’m not supposed to take no for an answer,” he said.
And then he was gone.
Okay, then. She went back to bed with her plate of cookies and ate far too many of them because they were little bites of heaven. At this rate, by the time she left here in two months, she’d have gained a hundred pounds. But surprisingly, it was actually hard to feel any kind of anxiety at the moment, even though she’d given it a good ol’ college try. The fact was, she was away from the city and she was in a gorgeous place with a fun job, and she was going to take her first deep breath in months and find herself again.
No matter what.
Her plan was to leave here a changed woman, one who remembered how wonderful it was to be on her own, empowered and . . . not anxious or stressed. Finding confidence would be a bonus. Being happy would be a pipe dream.
I don’t care what you grow up to be, as long as you’re self-sufficient and no longer need us for anything, her mother had said when Lanie had gone off to college.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shoved that very unwelcome memory far away, and tried to think of something else, anything else.
Am I hard to love, Kyle?
Maybe a little when you’re overworked. Or tired. Or hungry . . .
Yeah, so that had been hard to hear from the man who as a beverage sales rep to all of Southern California had only been home two days a week, but she’d come to understand something. It wasn’t about being unlovable. It was that she couldn’t trust someone to love her. It’d started with her parents. Both physicists, they’d expected her to follow in their footsteps. Only problem was she’d hated math and science, instead preferring the arts.
Being the square peg had made her an enigma to them, and not in a good way. It wasn’t that they’d been on her to change. It’d been worse than that. Once they’d realized how different she was, they’d given up on her completely.
And apparently, so had Kyle. She’d really thought she’d known everything about him and their relationship, and yet he’d betrayed her. So she no longer believed in her own judgment and other people. “Gah,” she told the dark cottage and flopped over, redirecting her thoughts to the only thing she could do something about.
The present.
DAY TWO OF Lanie’s job went much like the day before. She had a nice big space they’d created for her to do her thing. It was an open floor plan, meaning everyone working had their own corner but they were all together.
Peaceful and quiet, it wasn’t.
It turned out that Alyssa handled sales and hospitality, and spent most of her time on the phone charming the socks off people. Which had been fascinating to watch because Lanie herself hadn’t gotten the charming-the-socks-off gene.
Mia was the tasting room manager, and in spite of not having the sunniest of dispositions, she was also head of tours. Mostly because no one else wanted to be, she’d told Lanie as she’d flitted in and out of the office a hundred times an hour, sprinkling sarcasm and cynicism every time she came and went.
“When life knocks you down,” she said to Lanie after getting yelled at by a very rude customer, “calmly get back up, smile, and very politely say ‘You hit like a bitch, bitch.’”
Lanie was pretty sure that wasn’t Cora-approved.
“I hope my future husband looks at me in the mornings like I’m looking at this leftover pizza,” Mia said after raiding the employee fridge. “Like, yeah, maybe it’s looked better, but it still makes my heart happy.”
There were others around too, many others, and everyone knew everything about everyone. And whether Lanie liked it or not, she knew things too now because she couldn’t not hear them. Like about Cora’s brother, who ran the company’s social media platform. Uncle Jack had Crohn’s disease and was supposedly on a strict diet, but he constantly cheated and then locked himself in the employee bathroom for hours at a time, during which, if you had a Twitter account, you could read his ongoing thoughts. Such as: Inhaled four Cinnabons. #TacticalError #RookieMistake. And then the one that had Cora finally changing the password so he couldn’t sign in:
Dear people who type in all lowercase, we’re the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a horse & helping your uncle jack off a horse. Capital Letters.
In essence, Capriotti Winery was a small town all on its own where there were no secrets and the gossip mill was alive and well.
Not that anyone was going to learn Lanie’s secrets. You’re just playing a part, she reminded herself. Just like you did with being a daughter. A wife . . . There’s no need to let anyone know just how unsuccessful in love you’ve been.
That night she got into bed and was nearly asleep when there came a quiet knock.
Cookies, she thought, and leapt out of bed. Her cottage was all one room—a kitchenette in one corner, bed in another, small couch and coffee table near the front door. She peeked out and found . . . no one. Then she nearly jumped out of her own skin when the knock came again, accompanied by a giggle. Actually, make that two soft giggles, and she relaxed as she opened the door and yep, found the cute little cupcake twins.
They wore matching Wonder Woman PJs, matching bare feet, and matching contagious grins. They had dark unruly hair and dark chocolate eyes like their dad’s, and sweet, innocent smiles—unlike their dad. “Uh, hi,” she said and peeked out past them to see who was in charge.
But there was no one with them. “You guys okay?”
They gave matching bobblehead nods. The one on the right had her hair in a bun on top of her head. Her twin’s hair was loose and in a complete riot around her face.
“So,” Lanie said and paused, waiting for them to fill in some gaps.
Didn’t happen.
“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.
“We were wondering something,” the one on the left said. Wild Hair. She looked at her twin. “Right?”
Her twin, missing her front teeth, nodded.
Lanie was at a loss. She knew nothing about kids. Less than nothing. She was an only child, and actually she couldn’t remember ever even being a child, at least a carefree one with cute PJs and crazy hair and a silly, adorable smile. “Are you out here by yourselves?”
Twin nods.
Lanie had no idea who their mom was. She’d met a lot of people over the past two days, but not one of them had been introduced as Mark’s wife. And since he’d joked about asking Lanie out, she was kind of assuming there was no wife.
Which didn’t solve the mystery of their mom. “Maybe I should call your grandma—”
“Oh, but you can’t!” Wild Hair said and slipped past Lanie into her cottage, tugging her sister along with her.
“Well, sure, come on in.”
They giggled and Lanie resisted thunking her head to the door before turning to face her late-night intruders. “And why can’t I call your grandma?”
“’Cuz we’ll get in trouble,” Wild Hair said. “We’re supposed to be asleep.”
Toothless nodded.
“Okay,” Lanie said. “And you’re not asleep because . . .”
Wild Hair bit her lower lip. “Can you keep a secret?”
“No,” she said, not willing to be an accomplice.
The twins exchanged disappointed looks with those huge expressive eyes that nearly had her caving. She crossed her arms. “Listen, I might not know the first thing about little kids, but I do know when my leg’s being pulled. You two are up to something. Spill.”
“We, um . . . sorta took something from your purse earlier,” Wild Hair said.
“You stole something from me?”
“No,” Wild Hair said. “That’s what bad people do. We . . . um . . . borrowed.”
“What did you ‘borrow’?”
“When you were working earlier, your purse fell over under your desk and stuff spilled out all by itself.”
“All by itself, huh?”
“Yeah,” Wild Hair said.
Toothless added a bobblehead nod.
“And we couldn’t help but see you had a pretty smelly roller thingie,” Wild Hair said.
Lanie did in fact have a roller perfume. It was her favorite scent and it was ridiculously expensive, but when she’d gotten this job, she’d treated herself to it.
Toothless pulled something from her pajama pocket.
The perfume roller.
Empty.
Lanie took it back. “Wow.”
“We’re sorry,” Wild Hair whispered, and Toothless nodded again, and Lanie was reluctantly moved by their collective adorableness.
“Are you a-hundred-and-fifty-dollars sorry?”
They both gasped. “That’s a lot!” Wild Hair said. “You shouldn’t spend so much money.”
And just like that, it got a whole lot easier to not be moved. “You girls owe me.”
“But we only get five dollars a week,” Wild Hair said, horrified. “And we only get that if we do our chores. Which we keep forgetting.”
“Well, I’d start remembering,” Lanie said. “And maybe pick up some extra chores too.”
The girls looked at each other, again had some silent exchange, and then nodded solemnly.
“We will,” Wild Hair said, very seriously now. Grin gone. “Don’t be mad at us.”
Feeling like a jerk, Lanie sighed. “It’s not about being mad, or even about the money. It’s more about breaking trust. You disregarded my privacy when you went through my things. And then you took something that wasn’t yours and used it. Neither of those things are okay and they might make it so a person could decide not to like or trust you in the future. Do you understand?”
The twins nodded vigorously.
“But I like you,” Wild Hair said to Lanie. “A lot. So I’d be really sad if you didn’t like me back. Especially ’cuz I’m really, really sorry.”
“Sorry for what you did, or that you have to pay me back?”
“Both?” Wild Hair asked with such sweetness that damn, Lanie had to work at biting back a smile.
“We really do like you,” Wild Hair said, and Toothless nodded vigorously.
“I see you two at lunchtime,” Lanie said. “You like everyone.”
“No, we don’t. We don’t like Great-Uncle Jack’s grandkids and we don’t like Alyssa’s boys, and we especially don’t like the customers. They bend over to speak to us and use baby talk like we’re short and stupid. And they treat us like we’re five!”
“Aren’t you five?” Lanie asked.
“We’re six,” the kid said proudly.
Lanie nodded with a reluctant smile. “Okay, good to know. What are your names?”
“I’m Samantha,” Wild Hair said. “I go by Sam. And she’s Sierra. Sometimes Daddy calls her Sea.”
Toothless, aka Sierra, aka Sea, just stared at her with those guileless, fathomless, sweet eyes.
“She doesn’t talk,” Samantha said.
“Ever?” Lanie asked.
Sierra looked down to stare at her feet.
“Not anymore,” Sam said. “But it’s okay ’cuz I talk for her.”
Lanie studied Sierra’s bowed head and realized she wasn’t looking at her own feet, but at Lanie’s, which were also bare. She’d given herself a pedicure the night before, so she was sporting pretty purple toenails, which Sierra seemed fascinated by. “I’m sure someone’s worried about you by now,” Lanie said. “It’s late.”
“It’s Grandma’s turn to watch us,” Sam said. “And she fell asleep watching her shows. Who’s your favorite superhero?”
“Wonder Woman,” Lanie said.
“Us too! Who’s your second favorite?”
“Um . . . Thor.”
“I like Thor too,” Sam said. “Who’s your third favorite?”
“Gee, I’d have to think about that one,” Lanie said. “So about bedtime—”
“Do you have ice cream?”
Lanie felt her heart squeeze. Their dad should be with them at night at least, especially since by his own admission he worked long hours. These girls were so young, they needed their parents, something she of all people understood. “I’m sorry. I don’t have ice cream,” she said, although now she wished she did. “Actually, since I haven’t been to the store, I don’t have anything.” Well, except the emergency Snickers in her purse. It was her favorite candy bar and also her PMS med of choice.
The girls seemed devastated at this. But then Sam eyeballed the couch, where some of Lanie’s things sat. “You do have lipstick.”
“Lip gloss,” Lanie started to say, but the girls were gone, bee-lining for the couch. “I really think I need to get you back—”
“Ooh,” Samantha breathed, lifting the lip gloss. “Pretty!”
Sierra did the same to the small bottle of purple nail polish that matched Lanie’s toes and clutched it to her chest like it was a found treasure.
Lanie let out a breath and peeked out her front door and down the walk, hoping someone had sent out a search party.
No one, but then again, her hopes and dreams never came true, so why should they start now . . . “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If you let me take you back to your beds, you can use my nail polish.”
Sierra clasped the purple nail polish to her chest in glee.
“Now?” Sam asked excitedly.
“Tomorrow after work,” Lanie said and gave herself an inner kick. What was she doing? The objective was to survive the next two months and move on with her life. The objective was not to get attached to anyone, especially these two crazy cuties.
The twins looked at each other and some silent communication went on. Then Sam met Lanie’s eyes. “Can we use the lip gloss now?”
A young negotiator. Lanie was impressed. “Fine. Lip gloss now. Nail polish later.”
“Tomorrow after work,” Sam said. “Right?”
“Right,” Lanie said. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be a lawyer someday?”
“I’m gonna be a sheriff,” she said proudly. “Like my daddy. Sierra’s going to be the lawyer.”
Sierra nodded.
Lanie held up her compact mirror for each girl in turn as they carefully applied the lip gloss. And then she pulled on a pair of sweats over her PJs and walked the girls to the big house. They went in the back door and tripped over a sleeping Gracie.
The English sheepdog was sprawled on her back, her four legs spread-eagled out at her sides, snoring—and drooling—away. “Love her killer instinct,” Lanie said, and the girls giggled.
“Gracie would show a burglar where Great-Grandma keeps the silver,” Sam said. “That’s what Grandma always says. But at least she doesn’t threaten to sell her to the glue factory anymore.”
When Lanie looked at her, the little girl smiled. “Gracie was a very naughty puppy. She’s one now, so she mostly knows better than to chew our shoes, but she still forgets sometimes.”
Note number two to self: do not leave shoes out anywhere for Gracie to eat.
They all tiptoed past Gracie and then past a still-sleeping Cora on the couch. The TV was tuned to The Bachelor in the middle of a rose ceremony, where a group of women was having anxiety over whether or not they were going to get a rose. Everyone had their problems, Lanie supposed. She didn’t want a rose. She wanted to go to bed.
Alone.
The house was huge. The girls led her upstairs, where there were three separate wings.
“We share a bedroom,” Samantha said, walking into a pretty purple-and-white bedroom. “We’ve got two beds, but we like mine best.”
And with that, they both hopped onto one of the two fluffy beds and dove under the covers.
“Sleep tight,” Lanie said. “And stay in bed.”
“Don’t forget!” came Sam’s voice. “Tomorrow we get pretty sparkly purple toes!”
Lanie laughed and turned from the room, gently shutting the door as she went, and . . . plowed into a tall, leanly muscled shadow, who grabbed her and kept her from falling on her ass.
Mark.
Lanie, heart pounding in her ears, took an automatic step back, crossing her arms over herself. “You scared me.”
He didn’t say anything. The hallway was lit only from the glow of the TV on the floor below. He seemed bigger than she remembered. And in the dark hall, incredibly intimidating.
Uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was inside the family home, uninvited, she said, “I was in bed when the girls knocked on my door. I didn’t want to send them out into the night alone, so I walked them back here.”
Whatever he thought of that, he kept to himself. Leaning past her, he opened the bedroom door. There’d been bed-rustling sounds, but now the room went instantly silent.
Mark strode into the room. “If you think I can’t recognize pretend sleeping, you can both think again.”
If he’d spoken to Lanie in that scary baritone when she’d been the girls’ age, she’d have peed her pants. But his girls squealed and tossed back their covers, and then two bundles flew at him with the now-familiar “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” coming from Sam.
Lanie held her breath, but he caught them both with ease, snuggled them in close, kissed each of them, and then . . . tossed them back onto the bed.
More squeals and peals of laughter, and Mark covered them both with the blanket.
“Daddy, Sierra has an owie!” Sam said. “She was playing a game in bed and the iPad fell and hit her in the head.”
Mark took in the half-inch scratch on Sierra’s forehead. “I can fix that.”
“You can?” Sam asked while Sierra’s eyes went hopeful.
Mark walked to the whiteboard on one wall, grabbed a pink marker, and came back to Sierra. He turned the scratch into a lightning bolt.
Sam shrieked in delight. “Now you’re Harry Potter!” she told Sierra, who jumped up to look in the mirror on the closet door.
Beaming, happy, they both crawled back into bed.
Mark sat on the edge of the bed. “Do I even want to know why you left this house alone at night, when the both of you know better?”
“Daddy, she’s got lip gloss and pretty purple nail polish that sparkles and everything!”
“She?”
“The new lady. Lanie.”
Mark craned his neck toward the door.
Lanie leapt back out of sight, feeling her face heat. Why was she even still standing there? Horrified and embarrassed, she hurried down the stairs, her chest tight, her pulse in her ears. She’d gotten all the way to the kitchen when Gracie barked.
“Seriously?” Lanie whispered. “You’re going to be a guard dog now?”
Gracie jumped up, put her paws on Lanie’s shoulders, and licked her chin.
“Okay, okay,” Lanie whispered. “We’re friends now, right? Good.” And with that she slid outside. She’d just shut the back door when it opened again.
She didn’t look. Instead, she picked up her pace but for the second time that night she nearly leapt out of her own skin when a hand settled on her arm and pulled her around.
Mark.
“Sorry,” she said, maybe gasped, because she was out of breath from holding her breath. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Much.
“Actually,” he said. “The sorry is on me. They’re insatiably curious.”
“It’s okay. I like them. No one else has asked me who my third favorite superhero is. They’re . . . cute.” And she was surprised to find that was actually true.
“They’re something, all right.” Mark gestured her toward the trail, a hand at the small of her back. Not a flirtatious gesture. More like an impatient one.
“You don’t have to walk me,” she said.
“You got the two people who mean more to me than anything else on this planet home safe and sound,” he said. “I’m going to return the favor.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said. “But I’m still going to walk you home.”
“But—”
“Look,” he said, exasperated. “I’m exhausted. How about we just get this over with.” And then without waiting for an answer, he once again nudged her in the right direction. “Let’s move.”
“I don’t take orders very well,” she warned. “In fact, I barely take suggestions.”
She got an almost smile at that and they walked through the night. In silence. At her door, he waited until she opened it to speak.
“Again,” he said. “Thanks.”
She met his gaze. “Is it really ‘again’ if it’s the first time you said it?”
He let out a low laugh and scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m not very good at this. So you’re . . . okay?”
It was an odd question. She couldn’t remember the last time someone, anyone, had asked her such a thing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
This got her an actual smile. “Are you always so prickly? Or is it something you save for just me?”
“It might be just you,” she admitted.
Small smile still on his lips, he nodded. “Good to know. I’ve got to get back. I promised they could tell me a bedtime story.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”
“We take turns.” He shook his head. “You know what takes longer than a kid telling a story?”
She had no idea, so she shook her head.
“Nothing,” he said and startled a quick laugh out of her. And then before she could recover, he was gone, vanished into the night.
Fine by her. She crawled back into her bed and this time fell right asleep, although she maybe had a few crazy dreams involving a tall, dark stranger with a bad ’tude and a really great laugh and incredible hands. She had no idea if the incredible hands part was true, but in her dream it definitely was.