Sisters in Bloom

by Melissa Foster

  “How? You’re here; he’s God knows where.”

  “Hawaii. I told you that yesterday.”

  “Hawaii?”

  Kaylie shook her head and the flow of tears returned. “Work, remember?”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Relationships don’t fall apart because you had a fight or you forgot to call home. He’s going to be your husband. You guys just need some time to air things out.”

  Kaylie glared at her. She opened her mouth to speak and Danica cut her off.

  “Remember when Jimmy Walker found Steve Brewster’s ID bracelet in your locker?”

  “Yeah, what does that—”

  “Do you remember how mad he was?”

  Kaylie nodded.

  “And remember how you had no idea it was in there?”

  “Only because you put it there!”

  “Whatever. Same same. You can’t leave Chaz for a sock and a hairbrush, and you can’t sit around feeling sorry for yourself at my condo.” There she went, parenting Kaylie again.

  “I’m not. I’m writing.” She handed the notebook to Danica.

  Danica leafed through it. There were pages and pages of song lyrics and musical notes. Danica drew her eyebrows together.

  “It turns out he was right. I can write songs.” Kaylie tried to smile, but her smile was shrouded in sadness.

  “Kay, these are so raw, emotional.” She saw her sister through new eyes. “You wrote these? All of them? There must be ten songs here.”

  “Twelve, and another three downstairs. I don’t know what happened. I was really upset over our fight, and the next day, when I woke up, I was listening to the radio, and suddenly it hit me. The songs were all wrong. They didn’t have the right pitch of…I don’t know…desperation to them. The words were all childlike, as if every song was written about teenagers, so I began to write what I was feeling. Then I wrote some more, and before I knew it, I was elbow deep in ideas that were coming so fast I could barely keep up.”

  “These are amazing. What are you going to do with them?”

  Kaylie shrugged.

  “You’re in the music business. You of all people know what to do with them.”

  “I haven’t even sung any of them with the music yet. They might suck.”

  Danica shook her head. The songs were perfect. They said what she felt every time she looked at Blake, when his hands were on her skin, warm and strong, and the lyrics spoke of the sinking feeling that consumed her when they argued. “They won’t suck.”

  Kaylie shrugged again. “I guess I could ask Alex if the band can play them for me.”

  “Yes, perfect.” Danica stood up, and then sat back down. Her momentary elation sidetracked by the fact that her little sister had just walked out on her fiancé.

  “What?” Kaylie asked, exasperated.

  “Kaylie, you gotta go back to Chaz. Has he called you a dozen times?”

  Kaylie shrugged.

  “Where’s your phone?” Danica stormed inside, angry that her sister could be so stupid. Was she going to mess up her entire life unless Danica held her hand every second of the day? Danica flew down the stairs to the kitchen and dumped the contents of Kaylie’s purse. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Car.”

  “Kaylie!” She headed to the garage and retrieved the phone, slamming the door behind her. “Listen to your messages and call your fiancé. Seriously. What on earth are you thinking?” Then it dawned on her. This was Kaylie she was talking to. Maybe Kaylie really couldn’t commit, even after all the positive steps she’d taken with Chaz. Maybe she was really much more messed up than Danica cared to admit.

  She sank into a kitchen chair and asked Kaylie, in the most caring voice she could muster, “Do you love him?” She watched Kaylie nod, fresh tears streaking her face.

  Danica let out a relieved breath. “Fix this,” she said softly. “Call him. Fix it before it can’t be fixed.”

  Kaylie took the phone and went into the other room. She came back a few minutes later with red rims around her eyes.

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t reach him, but I left him a message.” Kaylie set her phone down on the counter and fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “The message I left him earlier was horrible. I actually accused him of cheating.” She stood beside Danica, deflated.

  Danica embraced her. “It’s gonna be fine. Everyone fights. Let’s get your stuff back to your house and he’ll call, and you’ll work it all out.”

  “Do you really think it’s not a new sock? Who’s brush could that be?”

  Danica smiled. “I’m sure it’s not a new sock. Chaz loves you, and I’m sure he’ll explain the rest.” At least I hope so. As she gathered Kaylie’s papers, she realized that she’d been staying at Blake’s so often that the condo no longer felt like her condo, but rather like a place she used to live. Kaylie could cover her entire house with sheets of paper and songs, and it wouldn’t matter. Danica no longer felt married to her condo the way she had when she and Blake first met. But she also realized, as she watched Kaylie shuffling papers at the kitchen table and wondering if Kaylie’s relationship was about to end in a flurry of heartache, that she wasn’t ready to leave it all behind, either. She liked having a safety net. Just in case.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The hostess led Chaz to a corner table with views of the water. Of course. Lea would have it no other way.

  The tension in Max’s eyes told him whatever Lea wanted was something Max was not happy about.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He kept his eyes on Max as he sat down across from Lea.

  Lea put her hand on his and narrowed her eyes. She spoke in a deep, sensuous purr. “We were just getting to know each other better.”

  He pulled his hand back as if he’d been stabbed with a needle. The heady scent of her perfume, which had somehow eluded his senses in his room, now wrapped itself around him. Gucci Guilty. He cleared his throat, pushing away the surge of memories that the smell brought with it.

  Max broke through the silence. “Shall we order?”

  “This one’s in a rush.” Lea raised her nose in Max’s direction as she picked up her drink. “We ordered you a scotch,” she said with an air of confidence.

  He pretended to study the menu. In reality, he was concentrating on ignoring her perfume and trying to figure out why Max was dressed the way she was.

  “I don’t drink scotch anymore,” he said sharply, then lifted the right side of his mouth into a grin and caught Max’s eye.

  Her approving nod was almost imperceptible.

  Chaz could actually feel the stress in the thickness of the air around their table. He looked around the well-appointed restaurant. Each table gleamed with candlelight, its silverware sparkling against royal-blue tablecloths. He imagined being there with Kaylie, holding her hand across the table as they looked out into the night, with the romance of the water at their beck and call. Kaylie. He promised himself again, no more lies. No more omissions. He was a man, and from now on, he’d deal with the consequences of his actions head-on.

  Lea sipped her way through three-quarters of a bottle of wine. Each time Chaz brought up the sponsorship, she said they could talk about it after they ate. Why spoil a meal? And each time she blew him off, his stomach clenched a little tighter.

  Finally, when Chaz could take it no more, he folded his napkin and set it on the table. “Lea, what’s this charade all about? You had me fly halfway across the world to sit at a dinner table with you?”

  “You brought a babysitter with you,” Lea said with a sigh.

  Chaz met Max’s gaze. “No, I brought my sponsorship coordinator with me. Max has run our programs for years. You know this. You’re stalling, and I want to know why.”

  “You’re not going to like what I have to say.” She patted the corners of her mouth with the napkin.

  “Lea, we’re prepared to offer you—”

  Lea cut Max off by holding up her hand. Then she turned in her seat, cros
sing her legs seductively toward Chaz.

  He kept his eyes trained on hers. He wasn’t falling into her trap. Not tonight. Not ever again.

  “I’m not interested in what you can offer me.” Lea leaned toward Chaz. “I have all that I want, and it looks like I’m going to be getting even more of it.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. Chaz?” Max asked.

  Chaz was sure he had steam fuming from his ears. He was sick of Lea’s games, and it took every inch of his focus to speak in a restaurant-appropriate tone. “Lea, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I have a pregnant fiancée who I’d really like to get home to.” He watched for a reaction. If the news came as a surprise, she didn’t show it.

  Lea leaned back in her chair. “This is kind of fun, watching you two squirm.”

  “Okay, that’s it.” Chaz stood. “Max, let’s go. We don’t need her sponsorship this badly.” The hell with pride. Trust fund, here we come.

  Max rose to her feet.

  “Do sit down, Chaz.” She turned to Max. “Babysitter,” she snarked, motioning to the empty chair.

  “Apologize,” Chaz demanded.

  Lea turned to Max and looked her up and down. “You are a bit old to be a babysitter. Hmm…Oh, I see. You and Chaz? Well, isn’t that a surprise?”

  Max’s cheeks flushed.

  “Lea, we’re done here.” Chaz walked around the table and took Max’s arm, leading her away from the table.

  “I’m buying one-third of the festival.”

  Lea’s words stopped Chaz in his tracks. He stalked back toward the table. “You’re what?”

  “You heard me. You need sponsorships, so I thought, what better way to ensure that you have the money you need every year.”

  “Don’t do this, Lea.” Chaz’s heart thundered in his chest. This could not happen.

  “I’m dying for the additional third, but it seems your father’s other crony isn’t as willing to play as Jansen was.”

  Carl Jansen had been his father’s business partner, and Chaz had almost forgotten about their falling out. Although he still owned his percentage, Carl hadn’t taken interest in the festival the entire time Chaz had run it, and because of that, there had never been a need to try and regain that ownership. “He can’t do that. I get first right of refusal.” He had no idea if it was true, but he needed all the ammo he could get.

  “Oh, he can, and he is.”

  “You’ll sleep with anyone,” Max said through gritted teeth. “He’s an old man.”

  “An old, wealthy man who has something that I want.”

  “He’s married!” Max spat.

  Chaz stood between Max and Lea, fuming. “Why would you pursue this? You can have anything you want. Any festival. Any business. You have more money than God himself. Why my festival?”

  Lea’s silent grin was more than Chaz could take.

  “Are you really so angry about our breakup that you would try and force your way into my business?” He turned away, then turned back and said, “You’re pathetic.”

  “Chaz, I’m surprised at you. You underestimate me. Surely you know that there is little I won’t do to get what I want. No matter who gets hurt in the process.”

  Chaz didn’t see the people staring at him as he fumed his way out of the restaurant. He didn’t see the satisfied grin on Lea’s lips, and he didn’t see the protective look on Max’s face as she held on to him with a tender, yet firm, touch. Chaz saw one thing, and one thing only. Red.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Danica followed Kaylie to her house to help her settle back in—and to make sure she stayed put this time. She sat on Kaylie’s couch with the sock pinched between her index finger and thumb. “It’s a sock, not a thong.”

  Kaylie frowned and slumped on the couch next to her. “Did you know they make maternity thongs?”

  “No way.”

  “Way.” Kaylie stood up and showed Danica her pink thong.

  “That can’t be comfortable.” Show me your flashy thong, but you can’t sway the discussion that easily. “Let’s focus on your relationship, Kaylie,” Danica said.

  Kaylie lowered her dress and sat back down. “I’m an idiot. I’ve always been an idiot.”

  “Better he finds out now than after you’re married.”

  Kaylie punched Danica in the arm.

  “What’s your plan?” Danica asked, knowing Kaylie didn’t have one.

  She shrugged.

  “Ugh, didn’t Mom ever teach you to use your words? Come on.” She took Kaylie’s hand and led her to Chaz’s office. “Get out some paper.”

  Kaylie withdrew a pad of paper from the drawer.

  “Okay, number one. Contact Chaz, no matter what it takes. Call him until he answers. Who’s he with?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Danica thought about it. “I know, call Max. Max will know how to reach him. That’s number two. If you can’t reach Chaz, then call Max. Number three, call Alex. Get going with the band again. It’s good for your self-esteem.” Danica paced. She’d been thinking about asking Kaylie to sing at the event for No Limitz, and now, seeing her sister taking steps to help herself, she knew it would be just the thing Kaylie needed to regain her confidence. “I have a great idea. You still play with your band, right?”

  “Of course. I mean, you know they don’t go to every singing job with me, but we still do gigs together when we can actually get hired.”

  “If your band agrees, you guys can play at our event.”

  “You said you hired a band that one of the county guys recommended.”

  “I did, but I can cancel. Trust me. Let me handle my business. Just make sure you’re good enough to play and that that band is okay with it.”

  “Danica, look at me.”

  Danica ran her eyes over Kaylie. Her hair fell full and pretty around her face, which was also a bit fuller. Her perfect, perky breasts had become full and matronly, lying over her belly like two soft grapefruits. She no longer looked like Barbie doll Kaylie. She looked better, more mature. She looked like mother-to-be Kaylie, and Danica hoped that, at some point in the next few weeks, before her baby came, Kaylie would see herself that way, too.

  “You couldn’t look more beautiful.”

  Kaylie put her hand on her belly. “What is happening to me? Why did all this stuff just hit me now? You know me, I’m not a crier. I’m not insecure about my looks, or my job, but lately” —she threw her hands up in the air— “I can’t control anything around me. Apparently, not even my fiancé.”

  “Oh, stop, Kay. Chaz isn’t cheating. There’s an explanation. It’s not like he planned for some woman to spend the night and have a tawdry affair. It could even be Max’s stuff. You never know. And right now, sister dear, you are one big bundle of hormones. You’re trying to line up singing gigs for after the baby’s born, and you thought you’d slip right back into your life; and when you saw that it wasn’t going to be that easy, well, reality can do all sorts of crazy things to a person.”

  “Do you think that’s it? I mean, I did expect to get the Reno gig, and I guess that did set me off, now that I think about it. That’s what we were talking about when Chaz said I should try writing…or doing nothing.” Kaylie drew little hearts on the paper. “I haven’t had a singing gig in weeks,” she admitted to Danica.

  “That must be hard. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because when you decide to do something, you do it. Nothing holds you back. The year you started your own therapy practice, you made a goal and you met it—exceeded it. You wanted four new clients your first month and you got six, remember?”

  Danica did remember. She’d been thrilled with her success.

  “I had a goal, too. I wanted to sing until I was too big to sing, and I wasn’t too big to sing when they started turning me down. I just looked…plump. And it hurt. Every time I got turned down, it felt like I’d worked really hard for nothing, as if all of my experience didn’t matter.”

  “I’m
sure they didn’t turn you down because you looked bigger, Kaylie. It was probably an insurance thing. Pregnant women can be fragile, and let’s face it, you didn’t exactly sing in family-friendly venues.”

  “True,” Kaylie admitted.

  “Think about it. A bunch of drunk guys, you singing, they’ve jumped on the stage before, but now you’re pregnant. You’re a bar owner’s nightmare,” she teased.

  The edge of Kaylie’s lips lifted. “That would happen, too, because I am hot.”

  Now there’s my sister. “Yes, you were hot.”

  “Even if plump,” Kaylie added with confidence.

  Danica agreed, knowing that Kaylie was talking herself into a happier place.

  “And even now, with this big ol’ baby belly, I’m still hot. I’m just not bar-singing hot…because I could get hurt.”

  “Okay, I’ve got it. You’re hot, hot, hot. Now can you work on your relationship?” Danica laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Just focus on the warm breeze and the tropical music,” Max said as she and Chaz sat at a bar by the water.

  Chaz shook his head. He didn’t want to feel the breeze or people watch. He had to figure out what the hell was going on with the festival. He left a heated message for Jansen and one for his attorney, Cooper. If Lea could weasel her way into one-third of the festival’s ownership, then surely she intended to make his life hell. “Why wouldn’t Jansen have called me? How could I not know this?”

  “Remember when I told you that you needed to have board meetings, and you said—”

  “Why ruin a good thing?” Chaz lifted his eyes from the bar. “Dumbest thing I ever said.”

  Max nodded with a feigned frown on her lips that reached all the way to her eyes.

  Chaz looked her over as he sucked down his second drink. “You look great, but why are you all dolled up tonight?”

  Max lowered her gaze. “I figured she’d be all dolled up and dressed to kill, and I knew she wasn’t expecting me to show up, and jeans wouldn’t quite cut it with someone like her.”

  “So you thought dressing up might intimidate her?”