No Regrets

by Joy Argento

  No Regrets

  Synopsis

  Jodi Michaels has life figured out: she owns her business, has a relationship and two great kids. She just hadn’t counted on someone like Beth Bellamy coming along to shake up her world. When Beth makes Jodi wonder if really loving someone and having someone love you in return is what life is all about, her perfect picture begins to crumble.

  Beth has never considered herself anything but straight, and all her focus has been on raising her daughter. When she meets Jodi, she can’t deny her attraction. Now all her ideas about what she should do and who she should love are turned inside out.

  Jodi and Beth have a love worth fighting for, but when illness threatens Jodi’s life, the battle might be beyond their control. Beth vows to stand by Jodi’s side, but the biggest problem is, Jodi won’t let her.

  No Regrets

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

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  By the Author

  Emily’s Art and Soul

  Before Now

  No Regrets

  No Regrets

  © 2020 By Joy Argento. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-752-7

  This Electronic Original Is Published By

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: November 2020

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Tammy Seidick

  Cover Art By Joy Argento

  eBook Design By Toni Whitaker

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to keep writing, especially when I felt like throwing in the towel. Kate Klansky, Karin Cole, Jenny Argento, Toby Hewitt, and Susan Duffy, you are the people who kept me going. Georgia Beers, thank you so much for always answering my questions and for your generous advice.

  Thank you to anyone that has taken the time to read my books, emailed me, or put up a review. I appreciate each and every one of you.

  Beth

  I sank down on the couch. All the air left my lungs and I struggled for breath. This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t.

  “Are you all right?” Jodi asked.

  I nodded. Then shook my head. Then nodded again. Confused. No. I wasn’t all right. My world had just come crashing down on me. I brought my eyes up to hers. Concern radiated out to me. To me. Her concern was for me. That made no sense. None of this made sense.

  She sat by my side and I reached out to stroke her hair. Despite the news she had just shared with me, a tingle ran down my arm at the contact. I rested my forehead against hers. Tears leaked out of my closed eyes. “Oh my God,” I whispered. It was all I could manage to say.

  I felt her arms go around me and pull me in tighter. For a brief moment, the horrible truth left my mind and I was filled with the closeness of her. She felt so alive in my arms. How could she be dying?

  I thought back to the first day I ever saw her, more than six years ago. She walked into my hair salon and plunked herself down in my chair. Her green eyes bright, her face lit up with a smile, she chatted away as I snipped new layers into her long brown hair. I found out later that she had just turned forty.

  “Beth,” she said, reading my name tag. “Pretty name. Short for anything? Elizabeth? Bethany?”

  “Nope. Just Beth, plain and simple. That’s me.”

  Her smile expanded. “I doubt that. Doesn’t seem like there would be anything plain and simple about you.”

  I couldn’t help but return her smile. She just had that effect on me. I assumed she had that effect on everyone.

  “How long have you worked here?” she asked.

  “Since I bought the place a year and a half ago.” I had scrimped and saved every penny to make my desire to have my own salon a reality. Working for other people, especially the chain salons, had been a nightmare. This, on the other hand, was my dream.

  “You own the place, huh? I’m impressed. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I usually cut my own hair. Been doing it for years. My daughter yells at me every time. She says I’ve had the same hairstyle since 1995. She wasn’t even alive in 1995 so I’m not sure how she would know that. My name’s Jodi by the way.”

  I mentally scolded myself for not asking. “Nice to meet you, Jodi. Your hair is pretty even. Looks like you’ve been doing a decent job—not that I’m suggesting you continue that practice.” I tilted my head as I looked at her in the mirror.

  “Can I get that in writing? To show to my daughter.”

  I laughed at her joke. “Sure. How many kids do you have?” I liked chatting with the clients. I truly enjoyed good conversation, and if they liked you they were more likely to return, which was just plain good for business.

  “My partner and I have two. Well, I have two and she helps me raise them. My daughter’s nine and my son’s thirteen. How about you? Any kids?”

  Partner? She didn’t look gay. Not that I was a hundred percent sure what gay looked like. I didn’t really know any gay women personally. If some of them looked like Jodi, then they might have slipped by my awareness. I didn’t have anything against lesbians, although my church wasn’t keen on the idea. I was a live and let live sort of person. Judging wasn’t in my nature. I left that sort of thing up to God.

  “Does that mean you don’t have any kids or that you don’t want to talk about it?” I realized I had been lost in my own thoughts and hadn’t answered the question.

  “One. She’s seventeen.”

  I ran my fingers through her damp hair, pulling it out a bit at the ends to see if I had missed anything. I few stray strands were still longer than the rest.

  “Wow. You must have had her when you were five because you certainly don’t look old enough to have a kid that age.”

  I was young when I had her. I was the same age she was now. Her father, otherwise known as the sperm donor, to my family, left me as soon as I told him I was pregnant. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since. I tried to get in touch once, shortly after Maddie was born, to tell him he had a daughter. I couldn’t locate him, and I never tried again. Maddie asked me lots of questions about him when she was young but didn’t seem to care anymore. She currently had more interest in running with the fast crowd and skipping school than discussing her parentage, and that included me. The less she knew about me, or heard from me, the better, in her opinion. I didn’t let her get away with much and she didn’t like it.

  I brought my attention back to Jodi. “Thank you,” was all I said, sure she wasn’t interested in my life story.

  The phone next to the cash register rang. Cindy, one of my three hair stylists, came out of the back room. “I’ve got it,” she said.

  “Hello. Shear Perfection. I’d be happy to assist you,” she said, following the exact script my girls had to memorize. “Sure. Hold on please.” She pressed the hold button and turned to me. “Beth, it’s Robertson’s Sign Shop. They want to know about stopping by to give you an estimate.”

  I thought for only a moment. I didn’t like stopping when I was with a client. “Tell him I’ll call him
back after four.”

  Cindy finished the phone call and greeted a young woman who had just come into the shop.

  I took a couple more snips on Jodi’s hair and gave it a quick once-over with the blow dryer.

  “You need a sign painted?” Jodi asked.

  “Yes. The one out there isn’t up to code. I didn’t know it until last week when an inspector stopped by.”

  “I just happen to be a sign painter.”

  “You are not,” I said, certain she was teasing me. “There, what do you think?” I fluffed up her hair a bit with my fingers.

  “It looks great. Thank you.” She brought her attention to me. “I really am a sign painter.” She pulled a thin wallet out of her back pocket and fished out a business card. Jodi Michaels—Sign Painter Extraordinaire

  “Extraordinaire?”

  “It means I’m superb, exceptional, really, really good.” Jodi laughed.

  I smiled. “I know what it means. I’ve just never seen it on a business card before.”

  “Well, how are people gonna know how good you are if you don’t tell them? My grandmother always told me it was okay to blow my own horn. Better to blow than to suck she always said.”

  “She did, huh?”

  “Well, I might be paraphrasing, but it was something like that. I can give you an estimate for a new sign if you want.” She put her hands up in front of her. “No pressure.”

  “I could use a sign painter extraordinaire, but I’m afraid you might be out of my budget. I don’t have a lot to spend.”

  “I’m really good, I’m not really expensive, and we could probably trade part of it for haircuts for me and the kids, if you want.”

  I unhooked the plastic cape around Jodi’s neck and shook it off behind the chair. It wouldn’t hurt to get one more estimate. The first two were higher than I wanted to pay, and I had the one to schedule with Robertson’s. “All right. Could we set up for a time to meet and I can tell you exactly what I need?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll bring pictures of my work and references.” She stood and wiped a few stray pieces of hair off of her jawline. I wasn’t sure how I had missed them.

  “You have my number,” she said.

  “I do?”

  “Yep. Right there on that little card I handed you.”

  I felt the blush of embarrassment creeping up my face as I looked at the card in my hand. “Of course.” I waved the card in the air. “I have your number. I’ll give you a call tonight if that’s all right.”

  “That works. I’ll be home.”

  “It’s okay if I call you at home? Your partner won’t mind?” I wondered how it was with two women together. I don’t mean the sexual part. I could figure that out. I mean just the day-to-day stuff. Did one mind if another woman called the other? They must not, otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed to be friends with other women. They would only be able to be friends with men. Who would want to be friends with men? Men were good for a lot of things like sex and fixing things. But for friends? I much preferred the friendship of women.

  Jodi gave a little chuckle. “She doesn’t care. I work out of my house. My workshop’s in the basement. And that’s my cell number.”

  We walked over to the cash register, and Jodi handed me her credit card. I ran it through and handed it back to the woman who would change my life in ways I couldn’t even fathom in that moment.

  Jodi

  I walked out of that beauty salon with a little bit more of a spring in my step. The early June sun seemed brighter in the sky. I enjoyed chatting with Beth as she cut my hair. And my hair looked good. Besides making a business connection, I thought maybe I had made a new friend. I could use more friends. Claire and I had moved to Rochester with the kids over two years ago. Claire had made a few friends at work, but being self-employed and busy trying to establish my business had left little time to really get to know anyone. Now that business was starting to pick up, I thought it was time to add some new people to my life. I was friendly with some of the parents from the kids’ school, but they were more like acquaintances.

  Beth was the first person in quite a while to spark my interest. She was smart, easy to talk to, and very friendly. Of course, she might have been friendly because that was part of her business. Even if it was, she seemed genuinely nice. And she was very nice looking too. A little shorter than my five foot five with a slender frame that had curves in all the right places. I was happy in my relationship with Claire, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t admire the beauty of another female. Her blue eyes deep-set above high cheekbones looked even bluer against her tan skin. The short bob her honey-blond hair sported framed her face beautifully.

  I found myself looking forward to her call. Most of the people I dealt with were men. It was nice when I came across a fellow female business owner.

  I jumped into my Toyota and pointed it in the direction of home. I still had an hour and a half before Annie got home from school, and Andrew had lacrosse practice so Claire was going to pick him up on her way home from work. I welcomed the quiet time to work on my website and get my newest designs uploaded.

  I pulled into the driveway of our big colonial style house. It hadn’t been my first choice, but Claire had fallen in love with it and I loved Claire and wanted her to be happy, so I agreed when she wanted to buy it. The one-car garage housed her Porsche when she was home which left me the parking spot on the side of our double-wide driveway. I could hear Tess barking before I even had my key in the door.

  “Hey, girl,” I called to her from the hallway. “I’ll let you out in a minute.” I threw my backpack on the kitchen table and headed to the laundry room. Tess, our Collie mix, could no longer contain her excitement, and her bark turned into a whine. I reached over the baby gate and scratched her head. “Okay, okay.” I pulled up the bar on the gate to release it and set it to the side. Tess lurched forward but stopped short of jumping on me. Many months of training finally broke her of that behavior. Well, months and Claire bitching at me until Tess was trained. It was Claire’s idea to keep Tess gated in the laundry room when no one was home. She would probably insist that we keep the kids there too if I let her. She’d never been a fan of kids or pets. In her opinion, kids were miniature adults who should be perfect at all times—just like she said she was as a child. To hear her tell it, she never did anything wrong. The only things we seemed to argue about was the kids and the dog. Oh yeah, and sex. Or lack thereof. But that was a whole other story.

  I roughed up the fur on Tess’s head and let her out the back door. She did her business in record time and came running back in. She followed me down to the basement and lay at my feet while I worked on my desktop computer updating my website.

  I was still working when Annie got home from school.

  “Hey, Mom,” she called down the stairs to me.

  “Be right up, honey.” I saved my changes, shut down my computer, and nearly tripped over Tess as she raced up the stairs ahead of me, eager to greet Annie.

  “Hey, baby.” I leaned over to kiss Annie on the top of her head. She was growing like a weed and I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach the top of her head much longer.

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “You’ll always be my baby.” The younger of my children, I knew she would be the last. She favored me in looks, dark hair, green eyes, a quick smile, but had my mom’s feisty personality and go-getter disposition. I had a much more laid-back personality, and while I went after what I wanted and had a good head for business, I didn’t have the same drive that my daughter already showed at the tender age of nine.

  I made her a quick snack, which she downed while she worked on her homework at the kitchen table. I pulled a package of chicken out of the fridge and got supper started. Claire liked to eat soon after she got home from work so she could relax in front of the TV for the evening.

  The chicken was nearly cooked when I heard the door leading to the garage open. I turned in time to watch Andrew walk in f
ollowed closely by Claire.

  “Hi, Andrew,” I said. “How was lacrosse practice?”

  “Okay,” he answered. He was a boy of few words now that he was over the line that separated children from teenagers. He proceeded down the hall and up the stairs to his room.

  “Hi, honey,” I said to Claire.

  “Hey, babe. Supper almost ready?” She set her briefcase on a kitchen chair. I knew it wouldn’t stay there long. Claire was an everything in its place kind of person, and her place for her briefcase was upstairs on the desk in her office.

  “About fifteen minutes,” I answered.

  “Great. I’m going to go up and change my clothes.” She grabbed the briefcase and went up the stairs.

  I wasn’t sure why she needed to tell me that. She did the same exact thing every day after work, change from her work dress pants and button-down shirt into a T-shirt and jeans. She would run a brush through her short-cropped red hair and brush her teeth. Her routine never changed.

  I turned my attention back to supper, putting the finishing touches on the salad.

  “Annie,” I said fifteen minutes later. “Please go let Claire and Andrew know that it’s time to eat.”

  Annie walked to the bottom of the stairs and yelled, “It’s time to eat.”

  “I could have done that,” I told her.

  “Then why didn’t you?” She plopped down in her chair.

  Claire walked into the kitchen just in time to hear her remark. “Watch your mouth,” she told her.

  Annie rolled her eyes. I watched the exchange without saying a word hoping it would end at that. Relief washed over me when Claire sat down without saying anything else.

  Andrew joined us and I sat down with my family to enjoy our time together. Growing up, time around the table with my parents was a special time. A time to catch up on our day and share the important events of our lives. I wanted the same thing for my kids.