by C. M. Albert
“Yeah, something like that,” Egan said and laughed. “Kind of like your app. Right? First you had the idea, then I’m sure you jotted some notes down about it. You could envision it in your mind, how it would work, what you needed. I think that’s what they do in the workshop, only for all aspects of their lives—love, health, career, family, finances . . . those kinds of things. Celeste asks them what they want to bring into their lives over the next five years, and the women find visual representation in the pictures Dez brings to help express those dreams. Then they collage it all together, or something like that. That’s the part I’m still a little fuzzy on,” Egan admitted.
“Yeah, well, I sure hope I can manifest that app then. I think it’ll be a real lifesaver—literally. Maybe I should go take Celeste’s class,” I joked. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since my bagel and coffee when I first woke up. “Speaking of which, want to go grab some lunch and talk about getting it off the ground? I’m starving.”
Egan checked his watch. “Dude, it’s only eleven. We getting the early bird special?”
“What can I say? I’ve been up since five. Ran eight miles. Went and talked to the kids at the middle school this morning. Restocked the office supplies. Even sent out our annual holiday postcard to the government agencies and homes in our surrounding counties. So . . . yeah. It’s been a long freaking day already and I’m starving.” I grinned at the look on Egan’s face.
“And here I thought I’d accomplished something because I got these shelves installed today. Still need to paint them though. What color are we going with?”
“The ladies want a robin’s egg blue, if you can believe that. Think the hardware store will carry something like that?” I asked.
“Huh. I’m not sure, actually. But I bet LuLu’s will. They carry all kinds of refurbished goods, and one of their specialties is a customized paint. Have all sorts of fancy shabby chic colors.”
I lifted my brows at Egan. “Did you really just say ‘shabby chic’? Hand it over, man.”
“Hand what over?” Egan scoffed.
“Your man card.”
Egan laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. I’m hungry, too, now that you mention it. Think I’m gaining baby weight right along with Celeste,” he said, patting his perfectly flat stomach.
We hopped in my Jeep and headed into town. I couldn’t help but grin when I passed the entrance to the Vega Farm, remembering when Dez and I nearly collided there. What a way to meet. “So, tell me a little more about Celeste’s friend Dez,” I said. “She texted me this morning about taking some pictures. What’s that all about?”
Egan laughed. “Yeah, she can be pretty persistent when she wants to be.” He glanced out the window as we drove down the road in front of the Vega Farm, lined with a freshly painted black fence and tall, emerald green arborvitae trees. The ones Dez apparently couldn’t see around when she’d pulled out in front of me yesterday.
“Dez is a photographer—has been for years. I met her last year through Celeste, but apparently they’ve been friends since high school. She had a rough go of things for a while though, a few years back. Kind of dove headfirst into her photography after that. Talk about manifesting. Maybe there really is something to what they’re doing out there today,” Egan mused.
I turned onto the county road that wove its way into town. “I still don’t get why she wants to take pictures of me, though,” I grumbled. “I don’t really understand the project that she’s doing. Angels something?”
“Angels in Action,” Egan said, as if that explained everything.
“And that means what, exactly? Lord knows I’m no angel. Not sure how pictures of me will help her sell her book.” I snickered, thinking about how absurd the whole thing was. Maybe once upon a time my art would have. But that was in my past, and she wasn’t getting the rights to any of those images. No way. The past needed to stay exactly where it was. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to participate in her little coffee table book idea. I’d text her back after lunch and tell her no.
In the meantime, my stomach grumbled as I pulled into the parking lot of LettuceWrap, a local sandwich shop and makeshift talk radio station owned by Rosalie’s brother Brecken. Rosalie was a part-time assistant for Celeste now at Tranquility, so Egan wanted to stop in to say hello, grab a bite to eat, and support a family-run business.
That was fine by me. They had awesome sandwiches, not all of which were on girly lettuce wraps either, despite the business’s name. And I liked supporting local business owners as much as Egan did.
Over the past year, I’d watched Rosalie transform from a shy, nervous girl to a confident public speaker under Celeste’s guidance. Today she was taping her own radio segment, Conversations from the Other Side, when we walked into the cafe’s front door, the bell jangling merrily to announce our arrival. Rosalie looked up from the microphone and waved. Mrs. Cooper was sitting across from Rosalie, a handkerchief balled in her fist that she used to dab the tears from her watery blue eyes.
Rosalie reached over and patted the old lady’s hand. “That’s all for this edition of Conversations from the Other Side. Next time I’ll be talking with Inez Vega, who wants to chat with her deceased great grandfather, Javier, the man responsible for developing the land known today as the Vega Farm in our tiny town of Arden’s Glen. It’s a local landmark once famous for its emerald mines and the location most associated with the romantic love story between Javier’s grandfather and the infamous Arden Bissette, who—as you know—is our town’s very own namesake. Now it houses our youth center that’s getting a lot of attention these days,” she said, winking at me. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to hear what Grandpa Vega has to say. I’m Rosalie, and you know where to find me.”
Egan and I grabbed a booth by the window, offering us a view of Main Street. Being so late in December, the foot traffic was light, with only an occasional Christmas shopper still peeking in the windows along the short stretch of road. This part of town was laid with cobblestone, so traffic was slow and people took their time despite the bite of cold in the air. I’d come to Arden’s Glen right after college, and the town had quickly won me over. Even after the accident—when I just wanted to hide and not be in a place where everyone knew my fucking name—something about the town made me want to stay. I had to walk away from my business, and I couldn’t stand to be in my home where I once created my art; but it made me happy to see Celeste there now, changing the energy of the land and erasing all of the demons I’d released there while recovering.
Hell . . . I was still recovering.
“So, what are you boys interested in today?” Rosalie asked, her hips jutting out as she leaned against the lime green booth and looked at me with open interest. “Hey, Mitch. How’s it going at the youth center? Heard Christiano was up to no good again,” she said, fiddling with her order pad.
As beautiful as Rosalie was, she was way too young and innocent for my tastes. There was no way I was batting back this flirtation she was tossing my way. Still, she had a lot of connections with the community, and this was a small town. I couldn’t just ignore her. “Good, good. Yeah, Ti hasn’t been in for a few weeks. School’s yearbook editor called me, too, just yesterday. Said he missed the last two meetings they had. Gotta run out there to his dad’s place and see if I can get him back into the center. What’ve you heard, Rosalie?”
She bent down, our faces so close I could smell fresh peppermint on her breath. “Heard someone saw him buying again. Haven’t seen it myself, of course,” she said, twirling a strand of hair. “I sure hope not. His dad has enough on his mind right now. Heard he’s having a hard time holding a job again.”
I ran my hand through my hair. Damn, I needed a cut. I let out a long breath, frustrated because I knew I should’ve listened to the twisting in my gut earlier. “That’s what’s been eating at me these past few weeks. I know he’s still going to classes, at least for now. But him suddenly dropping out of his
activities, that isn’t like him. Damn it,” I cursed. “I knew I should’ve been over to see him already. Thanks, Rosalie.”
She batted her long lashes at the praise. God she was young, I reminded myself. “So, what’s gonna make you boys happy today?” she asked with a devilish grin, her eyebrow cocked as she looked in my direction.
Egan chuckled and kicked me under the booth. I kicked him back and coughed. “I’ll take my usual, Rosalie,” he said. “And a coffee . . . black.” He looked at me and winked. “Haven’t been getting much sleep lately.”
I groaned. Lucky bastard. I looked at the simple one-page menu. I’d been in before, but I preferred eating at home more than dining out. “I’ll take a burger, medium rare. Whatever comes on it. And a Pepsi.”
After Rosalie gathered up our menus and sashayed off to the kitchen—because, let’s be honest, those hips were sashaying with a purpose—I risked a glance at Egan. We both broke out in quiet laughter.
“Ah, man. That’s priceless. I can’t wait to tell Celeste.”
I shot daggers at him. “Don’t you dare. She’s a child. Trust me, there’s no return interest there.”
“I hear ya. Besides . . . what did you think of Dez? I know she’s only in town a few weeks, but she comes down all the time to work with Celeste. Just sayin’.”
“She’s hot all right. But, man, she’s feisty. Don’t think I’d want to mess with a friend of Celeste’s anyway. I’m not looking for a relationship. And I don’t want to be the douchebag who messes around with her BFF and can’t follow through.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Egan asked. “There’s a difference.”
“Fine. Won’t. You know damn well I nearly lost everything after my accident. I didn’t know if I would even make it another day, let alone a week or a year. I was existing . . . that’s all. It took me a long time to not want to just put an end to all of it. Every fucking thing was taken from me after that accident, Egan. Everything.” I looked down at the sparkly linoleum tabletop that matched the lime green booths. Too damn cheerful for my aesthetics.
“But you didn’t, Mitch. I know we’ve talked about this before, but it needs to be said. You fucking survived that attack for a reason. Does it suck like hell? Yeah, I’m sure losing your arm sucked more than I could ever imagine. But you are alive. You are showing those kids at the youth center every day how to make good on what you’re asking them to do: have hope. Put one foot in front of the other. Not give up. So, I’m not saying it has to be Dez, but wouldn’t you like to share your life with someone again? What would be the worst thing that could happen if you opened yourself up to that possibility?”
I waited as Rosalie set our drinks down and took an exhausting amount of time to place silverware just so. She leaned in a little too close while setting mine on the table, and the action wasn’t lost on Egan. He was smirking again by the time she left.
“You may not want to fall in love, but the ladies sure seem to like you,” he chuckled.
“Yeah, never had a problem with that end of things. It’s the wanting to keep them around part where I’m broken,” I admitted, taking a sip of my drink.
“You ever hear back from that girl? The one who was with you in Hawaii when the accident happened?”
I glanced down at my lap, not wanting to remember her or the situation.
Egan must have seen the anxiety that crossed my features because he cleared his throat. “Never mind. Not my place to ask.”
“Sure it is. Just because I’m uncomfortable remembering it doesn’t mean a friend can’t ask.” I took a deep breath and glanced out the window. I couldn’t help but notice Christiano’s father’s truck parked in front of the ABC store down the street. Damn.
I sighed, drawing my attention back to our conversation. “Nah. Now that I’m not rich and famous and just want to be out of the spotlight, she wants nothing to do with me. And don’t even get me started on my arm. She couldn’t handle any of that shit. She stayed with me in the hospital because the reporters were all over me. But the minute they left, she bailed. She was so repulsed by my arm. Couldn’t even look at it. Haven’t heard from her since. God,” I said, shaking my head, “I haven’t thought about Paris in years.”
Egan choked. “Her name was Paris? You’re kidding me?” He laughed. “Oh man. I bet she was a piece of work. Maybe it was best that this happened. You know? Look for the golden lining, my friend. Things could be a lot worse than missing an arm. You could be married to a stuck-up gold digger named Paris.”
I couldn’t help but laugh back. “True. But at least she gave great—”
“Here you boys go,” Rosalie said, interrupting my one fond memory of Paris. She set our plates on the table and winked at me, as if she’d just read my mind. “Just holler if you need anything else from me.”
“So,” I said, after she’d walked away.
“So,” Egan replied, amusement curving his mouth up. He lifted a ginormous-looking leaf wrapped around something I couldn’t see and bit in.
“You really eat their lettuce wraps?” I asked, impressed.
“Sure. Celeste got me hooked. Don’t get me wrong. It’s loaded with meat. Hey, what are your plans for the holidays?”
“Plans? If you call pizza, Netflix marathons, and time alone plans, well, then those are my plans. I love the quiet time away from the noise of the center, though I’m on call this year if anything comes up. You know the holidays are triggers for a lot of these kids.”
“Yeah, they were a trigger for Declan, too, though I didn’t realize how much at the time,” Egan admitted, his face grimacing as he thought about the teenage brother he’d lost to suicide. I knew this time of year wasn’t easy for Egan. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah, me too. Holidays aren’t the same without him. But they’re getting better now that I have Celeste in my life. Speaking of which, she asked me to extend an invitation to you. We’d love for you to come join us for Christmas at Tranquility. Her retreat guests will be gone tomorrow, so there will be plenty of rooms upstairs. You can come have Christmas Eve dinner with us and then spend the night. No one should be alone on Christmas.”
“Thanks,” I said, seriously getting choked up that my new friends would think to include me in their special family time over the holidays. “I’m not much for celebrating the holidays though since my parents died. It’s kind of my alone time. I enjoy the solitude.”
Egan nodded. “Okay. But if you change your mind, stop by anytime. We’d love to have you. Plus, we need an extra person to play games. Games suck with just three people. And, you know, Celeste’s gonna want to keep Dez entertained.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. “The truth comes out. I’m simply a chair to fill at the game table.” I thought back to my conversation with Egan in his barn about how Dez played poker. Damn, now I had a gorgeous face to go with that X-rated scene that kept playing over and over in my head about using my poker table for something even better than cards. Before she’d just been a mystery woman. Now I couldn’t help but remember those ice-blue eyes. The sharp wit. Those pouty lips.
“What can I say?” Egan said, interrupting the fantasy that was now permanently etched in my brain. “Dez’ll need a partner, and . . . uh . . . hang on. It’s Celeste,” Egan said as his phone vibrated against the linoleum countertop. “They must be on a lunch break,” he said as he answered. “Hey, babe, what’s—uh-huh. What time? Is she okay? Shit. It’s too early. She still has four weeks left. Okay. I’ll be right there.”
I tossed two twenties on the table and stood by the time Egan looked up, wild-eyed. “Celeste’s water broke. Looks like we’re having this baby before Christmas!” he said out loud.
Everyone in the café started clapping.
“Come on, man. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“What? No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. You have work to do at the center.”
“Dude,” I said, pointing to his shaking hands, “I’m driving, I insist. Besides, your truck is still at
the youth center. This will be faster.”
He laughed, looking a little lost and bewildered. “Oh my God, Mitch. We’re really having a baby!”
I WAS WEARING grooves in the hospital’s linoleum floor as I paced from the waiting room to the nurse’s desk. Celeste was still being admitted and an initial screening was being performed, but I was a nervous wreck. I checked my phone again. Where the heck was Egan? He’d texted over five minutes ago to say he was parking. Surely he meant at this hospital. It wasn’t a big town. There was only one small facility, and the parking lot certainly wasn’t five minutes away. I checked my watch again, turning at the sound of footsteps behind me.
I stopped short when I saw a figure walking in behind Egan. Tall, dark, brooding. Yep. It was Mitch. He caught my eye, and the way his mouth turned up at the corner shot sensations to places I rather preferred not to think about while one of my best friends was lying on a hospital gurney about to push a baby out of the very same spot.
Egan hugged me quickly, clearly distracted. “Where is she? Is she okay? Where’s her doctor? I need to talk to her doctor. She’s allergic to penicillin. I need to make sure he knows that.”
I placed a hand on Egan’s heart center and took a deep breath, willing him to calm down with me. I was no Celeste, but she’d done that to me a hundred times before. Egan recognized the action right away and finally met my eyes, smiling sheepishly.
“Take a deep breath, Egan. Celeste really needs you to be her rock right now. She needs you to be the grounded and calm one, to help her through this smoothly so you can meet that precious baby girl of yours without a hitch. Think you can do that?”
Egan’s face relaxed a fraction just hearing the words baby girl. “I’m going to meet my daughter today!” A look of terror washed over his face. “Oh my gosh! Her bag. I don’t have Celeste’s hospital bag. And the bassinet. Mitch, I need the bassinet stained. Here—” Egan dug into his jeans and fished out a set of keys. He shoved them into Mitch’s hand. “Can you guys do us a few favors?”