Chapter Seven
HARPER HAD ALL the gift bags stacked together in boxes. Cathy had texted to say she wouldn’t be picking them up until tomorrow, after all, which left Harper nearly frothing. She could have had an extra two days to maybe get some sleep instead of staying up for two nights to get them done. She didn’t know if she was angrier at Cathy for playing her or herself for being played.
She heard a knock at the front door, then Lucas walked in. Thor immediately raced toward him. Lucas bent over and greeted the dog before calling out, “It’s me.”
Harper set the last box in place by the sofa and looked at her client/friend. Despite having worked all day, Lucas looked as fresh and handsome as he had that morning. His shirt was barely wrinkled, he was rested and tanned, while she was a hot mess. No, she thought, thinking of her mom jeans and stained T-shirt. Even her messiness wasn’t the least bit hot. She was a cold mess.
“Hi. Catch any bad guys?”
“A couple.”
“Want to stay to dinner?”
The invitation was automatic. She wasn’t sure when or how it had started, but Lucas ate dinner with them at least three nights a week. Thanks to Bunny’s skillful tutelage and years of training, Harper chronically overbought and overcooked, so there was always plenty for unexpected company. Lucas was funny, charming and a lovely distraction when things with her mother got too intense or moments with her daughter got too quiet.
Harper already had a salad made. She’d prepared vegetables for steaming and had Chicken Piccata ready to brown and simmer. The drama of this evening’s meal would be the—wait for it—store-bought pasta.
“I’d love to,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I bought the noodles. Bunny’s going to have a fit. Just so you’re warned.”
“Unarmed drama doesn’t faze me.”
They walked into the study together. Lucas crossed to the wall safe that had come with the house. It was a silly thing, really, but kind of sweet—whenever he came to dinner from work, he locked up his gun. She’d tried to explain it was unlikely that either Becca or her mother were going to lunge for it, and if they did, she was sure he could take them, but he insisted.
“What if I had a breakdown during the meal?” she asked. “I know the combination. I could take out everyone.”
He put the gun in the otherwise-empty safe and turned the lock to secure it. “It’s a plain black gun, Harper. You couldn’t possibly use it without gussying it up in some way first. I’d have time to subdue you while the glue set.”
Even as she chuckled, she wondered if there was an uncomfortable truth in his words.
They returned to the living room to find Jazz waiting for them. She ran over to get her greeting from Lucas. When he’d finished rubbing her face, he grabbed one of the rope toys the dogs loved and got on the floor with the two of them. There was much growling, yipping and wrestling as man and dogs vied for the precious toy. Harper retreated to the kitchen to continue prepping the meal. Per the rules of the universe, or maybe just per her mother, the salad plates should be set on the table at precisely six-thirty.
To that end, she got out a small mixing bowl, along with the ingredients for her Smokey Paprika dressing. She poured it into a dressing-size crystal pitcher, then whipped up the sauce for the chicken.
Lucas wandered into the kitchen and went to the sink to wash his hands. “Those dogs are smart. I have to up my game.”
Harper nodded at them feverishly drinking from their bowls. “If it makes you feel any better, they’re saying the same thing about you.”
He dried his hands, then leaned against the counter. “I saw the gift bags. They’re impressive.”
“Thanks. It’s a fiftieth wedding anniversary party. I’m sure it’s going to be lovely.”
Lucas’s gaze settled on her face. For a second, she was terrified that he was going to ask her how long they’d taken or had she been paid enough. He was always ready with the unexpected question. Thankfully he only said, “You’re busy these days.”
“I am.”
She walked into the dining room and studied the table. They were still celebrating spring, so the tablecloth was a pale mint color. She’d already stacked plates, patterned napkins and place mats on one end of the table. Now she just had to deal with the rest of it.
“Misty is going to be on an HBO special,” she said, as she headed for the craft room.
Lucas followed her. “That’s great.”
“I know. She’s so sweet. I love working with her.”
“If you say she’s your favorite, I’ll be crushed.”
Harper grinned. “She is, but I won’t say it.”
“Thank you. Let me know when the special’s on. I’ll want to watch.”
“Some of the humor is fairly subtle. I’m not sure Persimmon will get it.”
“Persimmon and I are reaching the end of our time together.”
“Because she’s turning twenty-three?”
“Something like that.”
Harper flipped on the lights to her craft room. She kept her dining room supplies at one end. She pointed to several clear, plastic drawers.
“Napkin rings. Pink, rose or silver. You pick,” she said as she studied her collection of vases and bowls, wondering what would be the easiest to put on the table.
Lucas held up four ribbed silver napkin rings. “These okay?”
“They’re great.”
She grabbed small, silver tone boxes in various heights and thrust them at Lucas, then chose flameless candles that would fit inside. Before turning away from the wall of crap she kept just because she was expected to decorate her table every single night for dinner, she flashed on her small, cramped office space and realized that, as always, Lucas was right.
“Oh no,” she said. “I’ve been doing this all wrong.”
“Your table?” her mother asked, appearing at the craft room door. “I’ve been telling you that for years. You need to layer your linens. Really, Harper, a tablecloth, place mats and napkins? A monkey could be more creative. At least make shorter, contrasting runners to drape widthwise. It will add visual interest.”
Harper found herself automatically considering her mother’s idea. In that nanosecond, she thought about the fabric she kept on hand and how easy it would be to pull out her sewing machine and—
“No!” She literally took a step back and shook her head. “No, Mom. Stop, please. I’m not looking for more ways to waste time decorating the table for dinner.”
“Waste time? It’s dinner with your family. What could be more important?”
Lucas took the supplies she’d given him and left. Harper put the flameless candles down and put her hands on her hips. “Mom, I’m serious. I can’t keep doing this. I have work I need to be doing. I have another order for gift bags, Misty needs new T-shirt designs. I heard back from the city and they want me to get going on the summer mailer. Once I design it and get it printed, I have to put on all the labels myself.”
Lucas returned and collected the candles. “Hire someone to do the grunt work.”
“What?” Harper and Bunny said together.
Bunny glared at him. “Lucas, I know you’re trying to help, but be serious. It’s bad enough Harper is taking time from raising Becca to do this, but to hire an assistant? If she’s going to work, she should be doing it all herself.”
Which was exactly what Harper had been thinking, only hearing her mother say it put the sentiment in a totally different light.
“Why?” she asked.
Bunny stared at her. “Why what?”
“Why can’t I hire someone? Why is that so awful? Mom, I’m drowning here. My job is how I feed my family. I’m struggling every single month. Your rent money helps and I appreciate it, but it doesn’t come close to covering the mortgage, let alone the expenses. I have no idea if Terence is going to keep his promise about paying for half Becca’s college, so I have to deal with that, as well.”
Bunny sniffed. “Becca’s a beautiful young woman. Why does she need to go to college? She’ll marry a nice boy who will take care of her.”
Harper did her best not to shriek. “Mom, no. Just no. Becca is going to get an education so she has choices and can take care of herself. I thought I’d have a man to take care of me and look where that got me. I will not put my daughter in this position. It worked out for you but it doesn’t work out that way for everyone. I want Becca to be strong and independent, like Stacey. She’s smart and capable. We need to encourage her to be her best self.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being honest. I’m nearly forty-two, Mom, and I’m struggling. It’s my fault—I get that. I should have finished college. I should have gone to work when Becca started school, but I didn’t. I’m doing the best I can with the choices I made.” She squared her shoulders. “I didn’t have time to make pasta. I bought some from the store. You’re going to have to deal with that.”
Bunny glared at her, then turned on her heel and marched out of the room. It was only then Harper saw her daughter and Jazz standing in the doorway.
“Your grandmother thinks I should layer more linens when I set the table.”
Becca rubbed Jazz’s head. “Going crossways? I can see how that would be pretty. You’re not going to do it, are you?”
“No.”
Becca smiled. “Mom, store-bought pasta is okay with me. The same with bread and cookies and anything else you don’t want to make. I’ve had it all before at my friends’ houses and it’s not horrible.”
“Thank you. I knew I couldn’t trust those other mothers. They always said they were feeding you homemade but they were lying.”
Becca giggled. Harper allowed herself to smile.
“Grandma loves the drama,” Becca told her. “It makes her feel special.”
An unexpected insight. “Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome.” Her daughter sighed. “Thor ate the raw chicken.”
“What?”
Becca grinned. “I’m kidding, Mom.”
Harper pressed her hand to her chest. “Don’t do that. I’m getting old and I could very possibly have a heart condition.”
* * *
Becca tried to summon some enthusiasm as she lay sprawled on the comfortable sofa. She had a feeling that Lucas hadn’t been kidding about her keeping up her grades in exchange for him helping her get in her driving hours. She was doing okay in English, Spanish and geometry. It was European History where she was getting Cs. History was so boring. The whole second half of the class focused on World War II, which was, like, a million years ago. Why did anyone care about that kind of stuff?
“You’re not listening,” Jordan complained.
“I was thinking about the homework I have to do. I need to write a paper for European History and we have that chem test next week. I can’t believe how much math there is in that class.”
“I know. I thought we’d be doing more fun stuff in the lab, but nooo. There’s equations.” Jordan flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “I wonder when Nathan will get here. He had a meeting after swim practice. You know he got a scholarship to UCLA to play water polo, right?”
“Uh-huh.” No point in mentioning that Jordan had already told her eight times. Yes, Nathan was a water polo god and the world stood in awe of his talent.
Which was something she could have joked about, but not anymore. Jordan was convinced that Becca couldn’t get past her jealousy when it came to her friend’s new sex life, and Becca couldn’t figure out how to convince her otherwise. Possibly because she really didn’t know how she felt.
Yes, she would like a boyfriend, someone who thought she was special, but sex? There was so much going on already, and to be honest, the thought of it was both exciting and scary. Most of the time, though, scary won.
There was a knock at the front door. Jordan flew across the family room to the foyer and disappeared from view. Becca sat up, uneasy at the thought of reclining with Nathan around. Not that she could say why, but sometimes he made her uncomfortable.
She told herself he wasn’t the problem, she was. Maybe Jordan was right and she was jealous of the whole sex thing, although she really didn’t think it was that.
She heard the happy couple murmur something. They stepped into view as Nathan pulled Jordan close and kissed her like they were halfway to doing it right there.
Becca looked away, but not before she saw Nathan’s hand settle on her friend’s ass. He squeezed really hard. Becca tried not to shudder. Whatever they were doing, it should be, you know, special, or at least in private.
She unzipped her backpack and pretended to be looking for something as the kiss went on and on. When they finally drew apart, she looked up. Nathan, six feet two inches of blond, blue-eyed handsomeness, winked at her.
“Hey, Becca.”
“Hey.”
Jordan wrapped her arms around Nathan’s narrow waist for a second, then jumped back. “Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and put on more lip gloss. Becca, get out some snacks from the freezer and put them in the oven. I’ll be right back.”
Becca got up and walked into the kitchen. The giant Sub-Zero refrigerator nearly filled one wall. The freezer was filled with all kinds of prepared foods—mostly from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s, but still. Becca’s grandmother would have a fit if she ever saw them.
She reviewed the selection, picking mini quiches that were always good. She set the temperature on the oven, then put the quiches on a cookie sheet. In the refrigerator she found prepared ranch dip and a plate of cut-up vegetables. There were chips in the pantry.
Nathan leaned against the bar-height counter and watched her work. “You know your way around Jordan’s kitchen,” he said.
“We’ve been friends a long time and I’m here a lot. Her mom always makes sure there’s plenty of food for us.”
She had the need to keep moving, although she couldn’t say why. She’d been in the same room with Nathan dozens of times. He was perfectly fine. In fact, he mostly ignored her, which sometimes she preferred. But today he seemed to be watching her.
“Jordan tell you about Mexico?” he asked.
“That you went with her family?”
He moved toward her. “No, Becca. The other part.”
Somehow she found herself backed against a corner of the counter. Nathan stood in front of her and there was nowhere to move. He put his hands on her waist and leaned close. For one horrifying second, she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he whispered, “I can do that for you, too, if you want.”
He smelled faintly of chlorine and too much cologne and she didn’t like the way his fingers squeezed ever so slightly.
“I d-don’t know what that means,” she whispered, wishing he would move back and give her more room.
He kissed the side of her neck. “The virgin thing. I’m good with virgins. I take things slow and easy. You’ll like it.”
She shoved him hard and glared at him. “What are you talking about? You didn’t just say that. Jordan’s your girlfriend. You’re supposed to be in love with her.”
“I told her I loved her,” he said with a shrug. “There’s a difference.”
What? That didn’t make any—She felt her eyes widen. “You lied? You lied to get her to sleep with you? That’s disgusting.”
“Whatever gets the job done. So what about you?”
He started toward her again. She had no idea what he was going to do, but she was sure she didn’t want any part of it. She shoved him again, as hard as she could, then pushed past him. She grabbed her backpack, then raced out the front door. She was still running when she reached the end of the block.
Halfway home, she slowed enough to catch her breath. Her whole body hurt, her head felt funny and her stomach was a mess. She tried to slow her breathing only to have to turn toward some bushes and throw up. She vomited until there was nothing left, then started to cry.
What had just happened? Why had Nathan acted like that? Becca couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She started running again, not stopping until she made it to her house.
Her mom was on the phone with a client. Becca hurried past her mom’s office, toward her own room. When she got there, she collapsed on the bed and gave in to more tears. She was scared and confused and sick.
A few minutes later, she felt a weight on the bed. She raised her head. “Oh, Mom...” But it wasn’t her mother. Jazz had come into the room and jumped up on her bed. Thor stood close by, as if standing guard. Becca threw her arms around her dog and hung on. Jazz snuggled close.
“It was so horrible,” Becca whispered. “He scared me. I didn’t think he was going to do anything bad, but what he said... I thought he and Jordan were in love.”
Jazz watched her attentively. Thor lay down on the floor, but kept his attention on her. Becca swallowed. “He’s her boyfriend. What is he thinking?”
She had a bad feeling he was thinking that he could use Jordan’s friends the way he used Jordan.
Her phone chirped. She reached for it and saw a text from Jordan.
Nathan says ur mom told u to get home but I know the truth. U have 2 get over it, B. Don’t be jealous of me. Ur my friend.
Becca stared at her phone, then tossed it on the floor and rolled onto her back. She had no idea what to do or think or say. All she knew for sure was that Nathan was a jerk, Jordan was blind and none of this was going to end well.