Caroline nodded, but she seemed uncomfortable, like she was trying to think of something encouraging to say but couldn’t. Really, there was nothing Caroline could possibly say to change how Abby felt. She was finished with Paul, and that was that.
After Caroline left, Abby decided to do some baking. Cooking and food had always soothed her in times of stress—probably one of the main reasons she was packing on these extra pounds. With Christmas around the corner, it would be nice to have some cookies and specialty breads tucked away in the freezer. Plus, she could make some preparations for meals, too. Her revised plan was to remain at the inn. Nicole could have her old room, and then when the other girls and family members got here for Christmas, they would keep all the festivities here. She would put up a tree, and she’d sneak over and get the gifts she’d purchased last summer and bring them back here.
Paul could have his trashed house all to himself. Maybe he’d like to have the kids out to see what he’d done with the place. Now that would be interesting!
She was just pouring fudge into a glass baking dish when she heard the front door open and close. Assuming it was Caroline, she called out to her. “I’ve got goodies in here.” She licked the chocolate-coated wooden spoon. “You might want to check it out.”
“Abby.”
She dropped the spoon and turned to see Paul standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”
“Caroline told me—”
“She had no right to—”
“She told me because she was trying to help, Abby.”
She glared at him.
“We need to talk.” He took a step toward her.
“Go ahead.” She took a step back, and, folding her arms across her front, she waited. “Talk.”
“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I’ve told you this already. But I really am sorry.”
“Sorry for which part? Specifically?”
“I’m sorry you felt betrayed when I spoke with Bonnie. But, like I told you, it’s business. That’s all.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
He shrugged. “It’s your choice whether you believe me or not. But I’m not interested in Bonnie. I love you, Abby.”
“And you show your love to me by trashing our house and—”
“I planned to clean it up. I just didn’t have time.”
“Seriously, you planned to clean it up?” She frowned in disbelief. “Get real, Paul.”
“Okay, I was going to call someone to help.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I was!”
“Well, don’t bother. At least not for my sake.” She bent down to pick up the fudge spoon from the floor.
“That looks good.” Paul leaned forward, looking at the pan of fudge like he wanted a sample.
She quickly moved it away. “Not for you.”
“You’re just plain mean, Abigail.”
“Mean?” She shook her finger at him. “Just because I care about your cholesterol and triglyceride levels, I am mean.” She took the pan of fudge and shoved it toward him. “Go ahead, eat the whole blasted thing. See if I care. And if you end up in ER again, don’t expect to see me sitting by your side.”
He stepped back. “So now you’re trying to kill me?”
She closed her eyes, slowly counting to ten. But when she opened them, Paul was no longer in the kitchen. She heard the closing of the front door, and she knew he was gone. And although she felt guilty for being so hard on him, she also felt that Paul was getting exactly what he deserved from her. If anything, he deserved worse. He was lucky she hadn’t thrown something at him.
It wasn’t until the following evening that Abby realized she’d forgotten to slip back over to the beach house and gather up her stockpile of Christmas presents to bring back to the inn. Amazingly, she’d accomplished everything else on her list—well, except for sending Christmas cards, which she’d decided to skip this year, but she’d even managed to get a Christmas tree up. She wanted to get her tree decorations as well as her family’s presents. She’d hoped to get them all wrapped before Nicole arrived tomorrow. Not only would this make the tree prettier, it would allow more free time for her to spend with her youngest daughter.
Abby had a sneaking suspicion she was handling this all wrong—doing everything backward. Just this morning her mother had called, reminding Abby that she needed to value people over perfection, and yet Abby wanted this distraction, bordering on obsession, because she believed the hyperactivity kept her sane. Unfortunately, it had also eaten up the entire day. She looked at the clock to see it was nearly seven. In all likelihood, Paul would probably be home.
However, Caroline hadn’t come back to the inn yet, which suggested she was still at her house, and that meant Paul might be there as well. Caroline had mentioned he was working hard to get things done. So Abby decided to drive by in the hopes that she’d spy Paul’s pickup and be able to make a fast dash home to pick up the gifts. As she drove to Caroline’s she made a plan. She’d grab laundry baskets, go directly to the gift cupboard, fill the baskets, grab some wrapping paper, and get out of there. The tree decorations could wait. Obsessed? Perhaps, but sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
To her dismay only Caroline’s car was there, but Abby decided to go inside and check on the progress just the same.
“Wow,” Abby said as Caroline let her into the house. “This is really coming along.”
Caroline nodded with a big smile. “I was just sweeping up. Come see how the master bedroom looks. The drywall guys are nearly done in there.”
“This is going to be nice,” Abby said when the tour ended. Then she asked if Caroline knew where Paul was.
Caroline shrugged. “At home?”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Why?”
Abby explained her plan. “But I guess I’ll just forget it.”
“Why?” Caroline challenged her. “Are you afraid to go into your own house?”
“It doesn’t feel like my house anymore.”
“Maybe you just need to give him a second chance.” Caroline’s voice sounded a little stiff, as if she too was growing weary of Abby.
“A second chance?” Abby scowled. “Try a hundredth chance. All I do is give that man chance after chance after chance. And what does he give me in return?”
“He built you that fabulous beach house, Abby. Most women would appreciate that.”
“Guess I’m not most women.” Abby sighed. “But I really wanted to pick up some things over there. You know, before Nicole gets here.”
“Just go over and get them,” Caroline said with impatience. “Don’t be such a chicken, Abby.”
“Fine,” Abby snapped back at her. “I will.”
Caroline grinned. “Good for you.”
Abby just shook her head and left. It was easy for Caroline to goad her into this. But what if the shoe were on the other foot? However, Caroline had always had an easy way with guys. Whether that was because of her good looks or some secret formula was a mystery. But maybe Abby should ask Caroline to give her lessons someday.
The lights were on in the house, and Paul’s pickup was in the driveway. Abby braced herself as she walked up to the front door. She was tempted to just let herself in—and why shouldn’t she? Instead, she rang the bell.
Paul opened the door and just looked at her. She had no idea what his expression meant. Was he surprised, miffed, bored? But she heard music in the background and suddenly she wondered if he was alone.
“I came to get some of my things,” she said stiffly.
“Come in.” He opened the door wider. The first thing she noticed was the smell, kind of a sweet, fruity smell. Was there a woman here? Bonnie perhaps?
She peered beyond him into the gre
at room and saw that it had been straightened—a lot! There was even a fire in the fireplace. But even more surprising than that was the fresh bouquet on the foyer table—red and white mums with some ivy tucked into one of her crystal vases. Flowers were something Abby usually did herself, but she’d never ever seen Paul do it. She wondered if he was even capable. Her suspicions increased by the second.
“What is going on here?” she demanded.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, who’s here, Paul?”
He held up his hands. “Just me.”
“Right.” She pointed at the flowers and then at the fire. “You go to this much trouble for yourself?”
He made a nervous smile. “No, not usually. But I have to admit it’s kind of nice. I suppose I missed it.”
She pushed past him, going into the great room, looking around for any traces or clues of Paul’s mystery guest, whom she knew was here. She even peeked in his den and then the powder room.
“I swear, Abby, there’s no one else here.”
“But there was?” She opened the door to the spare bedroom, actually sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
“No. Just me.”
She turned and studied him closely. “So tell me, why does this place look like this, Paul? And tell me the truth.”
He sighed. “I was hoping you’d come home, Abby. I thought if I cleaned up some and made it nice again, you’d—”
“You did this for me?”
He gave her another nervous-looking smile. “For us.”
She frowned. “That’s the truth? You don’t have some woman hiding in a closet somewhere?”
He laughed. “Why do you always go there, Abby?”
“Because … because …” She held out her hands, looking down at herself in dismay. “Because I know you’d like someone younger, prettier, thinner—”
“That is hogwash, Abby. I love you. I want to be with you. I’m married to you, and I like it like that. What does it take to convince you?”
She felt tears coming. Then Paul came over and took her in his arms and she just let the tears fall. He held her tight, and, stroking her hair, he told her he was sorry and, despite all her previous misgivings, she believed him.
Finally, as she was blowing her nose and checking out the condition of the rest of the house—all of which was spotless, sweet smelling, and frankly amazing—she asked him how he had managed to do all this in such a short amount of time.
He held up two fingers. “Two words.”
“Huh?”
“Merry Maids.”
She laughed. And then they hugged again, and eventually she called Caroline and told her not to expect her to return to the inn tonight.
“You made up with Paul?” Caroline asked hopefully.
“I think so.” And although Abby knew she might be sorry about this by tomorrow or next week or even next year, tonight she didn’t really care. If ignorance was bliss, she wanted some.
Chapter 16
Janie
Just three days before Christmas, Janie thought she heard something at her front door. It had been one of those dark rainy days, the kind that made Janie want to hole up and go to sleep. In fact, if she could just hibernate through Christmas, she would be perfectly fine. Oh, she’d told Matthew she understood his choice to spend the holidays with his girlfriend’s family. But not having family around—especially her children—made Christmas lonelier than ever.
But there was that sound again—either someone was knocking on her door, or the wind was stronger than she’d assumed. Feeling uneasy, she set down her book and reached for her phone and almost wished she had a watchdog. Not that she was frightened, exactly. But it was past nine o’clock, and she couldn’t imagine who would be calling at this time of night, and in this weather. When she turned on the porch light, peeking through the side window, she was stunned to see what looked like a homeless person. A pitiful person with dripping hair stood on the porch, head hanging. A soggy denim jacket, holey jeans, and rubber flip-flops suggested this person either lacked common sense or was hard up on luck. As Janie’s initial surprise subsided, she was hit with a wave of shocking realization. This poor waif was Janie’s daughter.
“Lisa!” Janie exclaimed as she jerked the door open wide. “Come in!”
Lisa stepped into the house, and Janie threw her arms around her, pulling her close and holding her tight. Despite being cold and wet, Lisa felt stiff and bony. And she didn’t return the hug.
“Oh, sweetie, we need to get you dry,” Janie said as she stepped back, noticing that her own blouse was fairly soggy too. “Come on,” she urged Lisa. “You need to take a hot shower and change into some dry clothes.”
Lisa looked down at herself, then slowly shook her head. “These are the only clothes I have.”
“Oh.” Janie nodded. “Well, that’s okay. You can wear something of mine. But let’s get you warmed up before you catch pneumonia. Come on.” She led Lisa to the guest bath and pointed out where shampoo and soaps and towels were stored, produced a fluffy terry robe, then left her alone. Closing the door, Janie took in a deep breath and steadied herself. For about a minute, she just stood there in the hallway, trying to soak this in. Lisa was here! Really here—right here in Janie’s home. But how had she gotten here? Why had she arrived with only the wet clothes on her back? How long would she stay?
Janie waited, wishing she’d hear the sound of the shower. Then she decided to busy herself by finding some warm pajamas and socks for Lisa. Then she put on the teakettle. Still not hearing the shower water, she tapped on the door, then called out Lisa’s name. When Lisa didn’t answer, Janie felt a rush of fear. What if Lisa had snuck out while Janie was distracted by gathering clothes and things? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Lisa?” Janie called again, opening the door and bracing herself for the worst. But Lisa was still there. She’d made some progress. Her soggy jeans and jacket were in a pile, but Lisa was just standing there in a dirty-looking pink T-shirt and underwear.
“Come on, Lisa.” Janie set the pajamas on the counter, then turned on the water in the shower, adjusting it to the right heat. “You need to get in here.” She reached over and touched Lisa’s arm. “You’re freezing, honey.” Janie noticed the telltale tracks of past drug use on her daughter’s thin arm, and it took all her strength not to fall apart. For Lisa’s sake, Janie had to be strong.
She peeled off Lisa’s T-shirt, trying not to gasp at the bony ribcage, and gently pushed her daughter into the shower stall and under the flow of warm water. Lisa still had on her bra and panties, but Janie didn’t care. She just wanted to get Lisa warmed up.
“Do you need me to help?” Janie asked Lisa.
“No.” Lisa shook her head. Janie wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t sure if Lisa was high or depressed or just suffering from hypothermia. But Janie decided Lisa really did need her help. And so Janie removed her own shoes, and since she was already fairly wet, she just stepped into the shower and began washing her daughter. Using shower gel and a washcloth, Janie rubbed vigorously over Lisa’s pale back, wishing she could rub more than just warmth into her daughter. If she could, she would rub hope and strength and health into Lisa. But first she had to get her warm.
Finally, with Lisa out of the shower and her hair in a towel and the terry robe tied snugly around her, Janie could hear the teakettle whistling in the kitchen. It had been full, so it couldn’t have boiled dry yet.
“Come on,” Janie told Lisa. “You can put your pajamas on in the bedroom.” Then she led Lisa to the guest room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Janie made a cup of instant cocoa and returned to see that Lisa had the pajamas nearly on. That was progress. Janie set the steaming cocoa on the bedside table, then handed Lisa the woolly socks. “Put these on too.”
&nb
sp; Lisa frowned at the socks as if she wondered what they were for.
“Unless you’d rather have some slippers.” Janie waited.
“No.” Lisa barely nodded. “These will be fine.”
“I’m going to go change into something drier too,” Janie said lightly although she was starting to shiver. “Then I’ll be right back. Okay?”
Lisa didn’t even look at her. Still worried that her unpredictable child could pull a disappearing act, Janie hurried to her room and pulled on a set of sweats, then hurried back to discover Lisa sitting in the living room. On the couch, with her feet tucked under her and her hands cupped around the mug, she was sipping her cocoa.
Feeling relieved, Janie sat down in the chair adjacent from her and just stared. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said quietly. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Lisa continued to sip.
“How did you get here?”
Lisa looked up with a blank expression, like she didn’t intend to answer.
“I mean I would’ve sent you a plane ticket or come and picked you up. But how did you know how to find me here in grandma’s house?”
“I’ve been here before.”
Janie cocked her head to one side. “Yes, a long time ago. You were a kid.”
“I remembered where it was.”
Janie smiled. “Obviously. I’m so glad you did.”
Lisa looked around. “You changed it.”
“Well, yes. I wanted to make it my own.”
“I liked it better before.”
Janie told herself not to take offense. It was only natural that Lisa would say something like that. She and Lisa had been at odds for years.
“But I guess it’s okay.” Lisa looked up at the painting Marley had done. “That’s nice.”
So Janie filled the air by telling Lisa a bit about Marley and her other Linda friends.
“Really?” Lisa looked confused. “There were four girls named Linda in your school?”
“Weird, huh?”
“And you’re still friends with them?”
Here's to Friends Page 13