She got the food put away, chicken breasts in the oven for the kids and explained about the women coming over that evening.
“I thought the three of you could go to the video store and rent movies for tonight,” she suggested.
Abby and Tyler agreed. Melissa tilted her head.
“Maybe I could stay with you,” she said. “You know, not with the kids.”
Abby and Tyler rolled their eyes. “We’re not kids,” Abby chided. “And you’re not all that grown-up. You’re only fourteen.”
“I’m a teenager,” Melissa reminded her.
Liz didn’t know what exactly happened at girls’ night in, but she knew there was a lot of drinking.
“How about if you stay for the first half hour,” she suggested. “While everyone is getting here. Then you can go upstairs.”
“Fine,” Melissa conceded with a sigh. “But I’m very mature.”
“I know, honey. You did a great job while you were alone.” She hesitated, then asked the girls to sit at the table. “I want to talk about your dad.”
Tyler hovered by Liz. “Should I go upstairs?” he asked in a loud whisper.
She nodded. “I’ll explain all of this later.”
“Okay,” he said, and ducked out of the room.
She settled across from the girls who were huddled together, shoulders touching, identical fearful expressions in their eyes.
“I saw your dad today,” she began. “He really misses both of you and said to tell you how much he loves you.”
“Did you tell him about Bettina?” Melissa asked.
“I did. He was angry and hurt, but so proud of you for taking care of your sister. I explained how you got in touch with me and he was really impressed.”
Melissa looked both pleased and afraid. “He’s not coming home, is he?”
Liz reached across the table and took their hands in hers. “No, honey, he’s not. He’s going to be at Folsom for a while longer.” She drew in a breath. “I’m going to be taking care of you.”
Abby and Melissa exchanged another glance.
“I want to see my dad,” Abby said.
“In a couple weeks we’ll go for a visit. And your dad said he’d write you.”
They both nodded. Abby’s eyes filled with tears. Before Liz could go to her, she pushed back her chair and ran up the stairs.
“I’ll talk to her,” Melissa declared, sounding far older than fourteen.
Liz wanted to ask who would take care of Melissa, but knew this wasn’t the time. Damn Bettina, whoever she was, and Roy for getting in trouble in the first place. He’d been impulsive when he’d been younger and it didn’t sound like that had changed. Unfortunately, now his daughters had to pay the price.
She checked on the chicken, then went through the list of snack foods she’d bought. There were different cheeses, some frozen bruschetta she would heat after the chicken was done, chips, salsa, avocados for guacamole. She’d bought boxes of crackers, various cookies, the ingredients for a quick seven-layer bean dip and a presliced veggie plate. If Pia and her friends wanted something fancier, they were going to have to give Liz more than four hours’ notice.
She climbed the stairs and went into the master bedroom. She kept her clothes here and shared the master bath with her son. After going through the few items of clothing she’d brought with her, she picked a dark green wrap shirt made out of one of those amazing fabrics that never wrinkled. She changed her shirt, decided her jeans were fine, and replaced her Ryka walking shoes with cute flat sandals.
Tyler and Abby walked into the bedroom. The young girl looked a little puffy around the eyes, but otherwise fine.
“We’re going to get the movies,” Tyler announced. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“Sure.” She gave him a twenty and smiled at Abby. “You’d probably like something funny for tonight.”
Her niece nodded, then barreled toward Liz and threw herself into her embrace. Liz hugged her tightly.
“I know it’s scary right now,” she whispered. “But I’m going to take care of you.”
Abby nodded and stepped back.
“We’ll be right back,” Tyler called as they headed for the stairs.
“Get something funny,” Liz yelled after him from the doorway.
“Oh, Mom.”
Liz grinned and returned to the bedroom.
She pinned back her hair, then washed her face before smoothing on moisturizer. Melissa inched into the bedroom.
“Abby’s better,” she said. “This is hard on her.”
“On you, too.”
Melissa shrugged.
Liz opened her zipped cosmetic bag. She pulled out concealer and smoothed the cream under her eyes, then blended with her ring finger. The mineral base she used went on next. When she’d covered her freckles and blended the color, she dug in the bag for her eye shadow.
“How do you know what to do?” Melissa asked. “I bought some makeup at the drugstore. You know, before. I couldn’t get it right. Plus, I didn’t like how that liquid stuff felt on my skin.”
Liz glanced at her niece. At fourteen Melissa was old enough to wear some makeup. At least mascara and a little lip gloss. The girl’s skin was smooth and had that glow older women spent a fortune trying to duplicate.
“A base is for smoothing out the color of your skin and hiding imperfections,” Liz told her. “Your skin is practically perfect.”
“Unless I get a zit.”
“They happen. As for the rest of it, I learned by doing, mostly. We can practice together this weekend. The basics aren’t hard.”
“Really?” Melissa looked both hopeful and almost afraid. As if anticipating anything good was a mistake.
“Sure.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Liz dug around in her bag again and pulled out a tube of gloss. “In the meantime, try this. It’s one of my favorites.”
Melissa took the container and turned it over in her hand. “Sugar cookie?”
“Oh, yeah. It looks good and tastes better. Sometimes it’s very cool to be a girl.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
LIZ GOT THE KIDS FED, THE movie started and the frozen bruschetta in the oven. The schedule was tight enough that she didn’t have time to let her nerves get out of control, which was good. Well before she was ready, her doorbell rang and it didn’t stop for about twenty minutes.
Nearly a dozen women piled into the cramped living room. She already knew Pia. Jo Torelli was new. Jo owned the local bar and was a relatively recent transplant to town. The Hendrix triplets arrived together and Liz was relieved they seemed relatively friendly. Before she could do more than say hello, Pia walked in with Crystal Danes.
Liz remembered the pretty blonde from high school. “It’s so great to see you,” she said with a laugh.
Crystal smiled and hugged Liz. “Hmm, I thought you’d be sending me a cut of your royalties. Who do I talk to about that?”
Pia glanced between them. “I didn’t know the two of you were friends. Crystal was three years ahead of me in high school, so she was what? Two years ahead of you, Liz?”
Crystal linked arms with Liz and grinned. “I met Liz in our senior creative writing class. Even though she was a lowly sophomore, our teacher thought she had talent and invited her.”
Crystal had been the only student who would speak to Liz. All the others had resented her presence and basically ignored her. A few of the girls had made mean comments about Liz’s clothes, while two of the guys had hounded her about her reputation.
But in the creative writing class, Liz had done her best to ignore all that. She’d found she could forget everything in the writing process.
Each of the students had to write a short story every three weeks, then read it aloud. The first time, Liz had been terrified. While the teacher had offered glowing praise, the class had been silent when she’d finished. Feeling embarrassed and exposed, Liz had slunk back to her seat.
But at lunch that day, Crystal had
sought her out and told her the story was amazing. That the other students had been silent out of shock, or maybe jealousy. Crystal had encouraged her to keep writing.
Four years later, when she was alone with a baby and terrified in San Francisco, she’d remembered Crystal’s words and had signed up for a writing class. While she’d begun with another short story, eventually it had become a novel which had turned into her first published book and the beginning of her professional writing career.
“Crystal told me I had talent,” Liz admitted. “No one had believed in me before.”
Crystal squeezed her arm and laughed. “I’m an angel in disguise. Now if only I could perform a miracle or two on myself, right?”
Liz didn’t know what she was talking about, but she saw pain flash through Pia’s eyes and Jo turned away, as if uncomfortable with the words.
Crystal didn’t seem to notice. Instead she released Liz and smiled at Melissa. “Hello. Do you have any idea where the snacks are? I’m starving.”
“Right in here,” Melissa said shyly. “I can show you.”
“That would be great.”
They walked away. Before Liz could ask what Crystal’s comment had meant, Jo held up a very industrial-looking blender.
“I need a plug and some counter space,” she announced. “I’m saying upfront that while I disapprove of fruit drinks on principle, I’m making an exception tonight. I’ve come up with a mango-strawberry margarita that is going to make you all worship me.”
“I’m glad I bought extra ice,” Liz told her as she led the way into the kitchen. “I’ll get glasses. Will everyone have margaritas?”
“Not me,” Crystal declined as she walked into the kitchen behind Jo.
“I’ll make yours without tequila,” Jo said easily.
“You’re very good to me.”
“Don’t let word get out.”
Crystal laughed, then picked up a tray of veggies. “Should I take these out to everyone?”
As she turned, the light caught her full in the face. Liz was shocked to see dark shadows under her eyes and a gray cast to her skin. It hadn’t been noticeable in the kinder light of the living room, but under the glaring fluorescents, she looked drawn and sick.
Liz did her best to keep her shock from showing. “That would be great,” she responded. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and Melissa went upstairs. I think we scared her, which makes me feel bad.”
When Crystal had returned to the living room, Jo glanced at Liz, obviously reading her expression. “Crystal’s sick. Cancer. She’s been fighting awhile, but she’s not winning.”
Liz felt as if someone had hit her in the gut. “Oh my God. No. She’s too young.”
“Cancer doesn’t seem to care about that. You okay?”
Liz nodded, although her stomach churned, as if she was going to be sick.
Jo picked up a pitcher of mix and dumped it over the ice in the blender, then poured in a generous amount of tequila. “Prepare to watch the lights dim,” she called and turned on the blender.
Less than a minute later, Liz was pouring the slushy concoction into glasses. She took them into the living room where the other women had claimed seats on the worn sofa and the floor. Someone had pulled in battered chairs from the dining room. She did her best to smile and keep things normal. Everyone else was. Apparently that’s how Crystal wanted things.
Dakota and Nevada sat together; but Montana jumped up the second Liz entered.
“I was telling everyone about the signing.”
Pia rolled her eyes. “Montana, I swear. You’re as subtle as an elephant. We agreed not to bug Liz about the signing.”
Crystal looked up from her place nestled in the corner of the couch. “Don’t you like signings?” she asked.
“I’m not sure how long I’m going to be here,” Liz admitted.
Conversation shifted to events in town. There was talk of the new hospital being built and rumors about ex-football star Raoul Moreno moving to town.
“He’s very good-looking,” Montana said with a sigh.
“Interested?” her sister Dakota asked.
“Not for me, but maybe we could fix him up with Liz and she would be so grateful, she’d do the signing.”
Pia groaned and leaned back against the wall. “You have a one-track mind.”
Dakota laughed. “She’s the stubborn one. And before any of the rumors get out of hand, yes, Raoul is thinking of settling here in Fool’s Gold. He likes the small-town feel.”
Topics shifted to other people, the general lack of men and what was being done about bringing more of them to town. Charity Jones, the new city planner, was teased about capturing the heart of Josh Golden, the last great eligible bachelor. Although everyone seemed comfortable with Raoul Moreno claiming the title. Liz thought about pointing out that Ethan was single, but was afraid it would stir up memories of their very public breakup all those years ago.
The talk was comfortable, if not exactly familiar, Liz thought. Growing up, she’d never felt as if she were part of the community, but maybe some of that was her fault. Sitting in the living room where she’d lived, getting slightly buzzed on margaritas, hanging out with women she hadn’t seen in years, she felt a sense of loss. That maybe the friends she’d been looking for all those years ago had been right in front of her. If only she’d bothered to look.
Not Pia, she thought, watching the now charming woman laugh at something Crystal said. Their relationship had been a little too “mean girl” for her liking. But what about Crystal or even Ethan’s sisters?
Her experiences in high school had made her cautious about making friends with other women. But maybe she’d been too quick to walk away from something important. Something she’d realized she was missing.
Her gaze slipped to Crystal who, despite her illness, appeared happy and content. Talk about having character. Liz had a feeling she was more the curl-up-and-whimper type.
“Am I allowed to ask how you started writing?” Montana inquired, interrupting Liz’s thoughts. “That’s not the same as talking about the signing.”
Liz laughed. “You’re right. It’s not even close.”
“Tell her it’s because of me you’re famous,” Crystal called out.
“It’s true,” Liz agreed. “Crystal told me I had talent and to never forget that.”
Pia was next to her friend and grabbed her hand. “You’re such a good person. It’s intimidating. Tell me again, why do I like you?”
Everyone laughed.
“Seriously,” Montana pressed. “How did you start?”
“I wrote a short story about a man who was murdered and found I couldn’t let the idea go,” Liz explained. “It kept getting bigger in my mind.”
She left out the part about the cathartic nature of killing Ethan over and over again. At least in fiction. It was kind of a writer thing and she doubted anyone else would understand that it didn’t mean she was dangerous or creepy.
“I was alone with a baby and I couldn’t afford cable,” she continued. “Writing felt like a way to escape the pressure.”
Crystal turned to her. “Where did you go when you left here?”
“San Francisco.”
Liz had the feeling there were going to be more questions but just then Jo appeared with another pitcher of margaritas and the conversation shifted to the various summer festivals. Montana grinned at Liz.
“If you would just agree to sign,” she began, “we would have the best festival ever.”
It was one book signing, Liz thought. She did them all the time. So what if it was here? She could handle a couple of hours at a table, talking to her fans. And Liz appreciated that Montana was the only Hendrix still speaking to her.
“Sure,” she said.
Montana straightened. “Seriously?”
“Why not? I’d love to.”
Even if she wasn’t still living in Fool’s Gold, she could drive in for the day. Tyler could hang out wi
th his dad, her nieces could see their friends and then they would all go back to San Francisco, where life was normal and people standing in the grocery store didn’t know anything about you.
An hour later, Liz went to check on the kids. As she stood, she had to steady herself for a second. Her balance felt off—apparently she’d been drinking more than she’d realized. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused as a burst of loud laughter filled the room. She grinned. She wasn’t the only one who was feeling the alcohol. Good thing everyone was walking home.
After confirming all three of her charges were totally engrossed in their movie, she returned to the kitchen, opened the last few packages of cookies and dumped them on two plates. Normally she would arrange them neatly, but right now that seemed impossible.
Pia walked into the kitchen. “I don’t know how Crystal stands us. She’s the only one not drinking.”
Liz looked up, her sense of contentment fading. “Jo mentioned she was sick.”
“She’s dying,” Pia said flatly. “Today she doesn’t look like it, but she is. They’ve given her less than six months. She’s working with hospice. This is the first time she’s been out of her apartment in a week. She’s living on painkillers.”
“I’m sorry,” Liz whispered, the gut-clenching returning.
“Me, too. She’s a good friend.” Pia drew in a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it. Knowing I’m losing her is impossible and makes me cry. As drunk as I am, I probably won’t stop for hours and no one wants that. Least of all Crystal.”
Liz nodded and had to swallow before she could speak. “Are you up to carrying in a plate of cookies?”
Pia eyed the plate doubtfully. “What happens if I drop them?”
“They fall?”
She smiled. “I can make an effort.” But instead of reaching for the plate, she leaned against a counter. “Why didn’t you come back? When you found out you were pregnant?”
Not a question Liz wanted to answer. “It wasn’t an option.”
“Of course it was. Even if your mom wouldn’t have taken you in, there was still Ethan and his family. You shouldn’t have kept his kid from him. It wasn’t very nice.”
Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing PerfectAlmost PerfectSister of the BrideFinding Perfect Page 37