Rainy Day Friends

by Jill Shalvis

  Sierra shook her head.

  “I’m sorry,” Lanie said, curling her hand around her ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “She said no,” Sam said.

  Lanie slid her a look. “Maybe I was trying to get her to talk.”

  Sierra grinned.

  So did Sam. “Everyone tries that trick. It never works.”

  Okay, then. They followed her to her cottage, where she began the pedis. She was painting Sierra’s big toe when Sam asked, “Are you my daddy’s girlfriend?”

  Lanie jerked and painted Sierra’s entire toe, making both girls laugh. She wiped off the polish and slid them both a look. “Of course I’m not. Whoever said such a thing?”

  “We watched you out the window when Daddy walked you home the other night.”

  Lanie kept a careful gaze on painting toenails and most definitely didn’t give away any of her private thoughts. “Which was a very nice thing for him to do. But it doesn’t mean I’m his girlfriend.”

  “You stood close to each other and everything,” Sam said. “We asked Grandma and Auntie Alyssa about it, and they got pretty excited.”

  Dear God.

  “And you smiled,” Sam said. “And so did he. He doesn’t do that very much.”

  “Why?” Lanie asked before she could help herself.

  “He has a sad,” Sam said. “If you were his girlfriend, maybe you would take that sad away.”

  Lanie set the toenail polish down and bent low to blow on the wet paint, making Sierra giggle. Then she met Sam’s gaze. “It doesn’t work like that,” she said gently. “Having a girlfriend or a boyfriend doesn’t make you happy.”

  “Then what does?”

  Yeah, genius, what does makes one happy? She put a hand over Sam’s heart. And then Sierra’s. “The happy comes from inside yourself.”

  At least she was pretty sure.

  “Are you happy inside yourself?” Sam asked.

  Ha. “I’m . . . working on it.”

  Sam cocked her head and then, with all the innocence and earnestness of a six-year-old, said, “Try cupcakes. My grandma’s cupcakes can make anyone happy.”

  She felt her heart squeeze. Dammit, she was falling for them. It was a problem, a big one, because it made her instinctively want to curl into a ball and close herself off. And she could do it too. She’d managed just fine with the rest of the Capriottis, but with these two, resistance seemed futile.

  So maybe it’s okay to like them, a little voice inside her said.

  But no one else.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

  When she’d finished their pedicures, she returned them to the big house, doing her best not to run into anyone this time. But her luck wasn’t that good. As they got close, Gracie barked happily from inside and then Alyssa opened the front door, releasing the beast.

  The hundred-pound dog took a flying leap at Lanie and licked her chin.

  “Okay,” Lanie said, patting the biggest puppy on the planet. “Okay, then.”

  Alyssa hustled the girls inside with a quick hug. “The baby’s waiting for you,” she told them.

  The twins went racing up the stairs in excitement, deserting Lanie without a backward glance. Alyssa gave her a smile that Lanie was instantly suspicious of.

  “Hey,” Alyssa said.

  Be cool, Lanie told herself. Just be cool . . . “The twins are wrong,” she burst out.

  “Really? About what?”

  Lanie grimaced and Alyssa smiled. “Do tell.”

  “Whatever the girls think they saw earlier in the week, they didn’t. Mark was just walking me back to my cottage.”

  “Interesting.”

  Lanie sighed. “No, really—” She broke off as some yelling came from within the house. “What’s going on?”

  Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Family dinner. And by this time of day, my patience with everyone is literally at one percent.”

  “Don’t you guys get enough of one another during the day?”

  Alyssa laughed like Lanie had just told a very funny joke. “It’s Uncle Jack’s birthday. He’s drunk and he asked his daughter Cecilia—the one who is supposedly our receptionist but hasn’t been to work one day this week because she’s spoiled—when she was going to get married and give him grandbabies. She reminded him that she’s not all that into men. And then he reminded her that he didn’t care if she was bisexual, asexual, pansexual, or metrosexual, he still expected additional grandkids.”

  “Oh boy,” Lanie said.

  “No kidding. Most of my wrinkles are from laughter, except for these right between my eyebrows.” She pointed at them. “These are my ‘WTF’ lines and those suckers are deep, all given to me by our family dinners.”

  Lanie laughed.

  “You think I’m kidding. We’ll see how deep your WTF lines are at the end of your two months in this place. Anyway, so while the rest of us were looking up pansexual on our phones, Cecilia locked herself in the bathroom. And that isn’t the worst of it. Mia had a Tinder meet-up.” Alyssa put meet-up in air quotes. “She brought him by here first, probably for shock value. They’re in the other bathroom doing God knows what. Meantime, Grandpa’s going back and forth between the two bathrooms banging on the doors saying he needs in pronto, so you should run for the hills. Do it now before Mom sees you standing here and makes you come inside to join us.”

  “Your brother warned me to run too.”

  Alyssa smiled. “Mark’s a lot of things, smart being one of them.”

  Lanie turned to walk away, but good manners had her hesitating. “Uh, you could come back to my cottage to escape if you want.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t abandon ship. Family and all that, you understand.”

  She didn’t, not really. But she nodded and left. She thought about running away, but that wouldn’t solve any of her problems. So instead she got into her favorite PJs and crawled into bed with her laptop to marathon something good.

  Family and all that . . .

  Alyssa’s comment played on repeat in her head. Every family had their faults, but some more than others. She knew all too well. Her own family was fractured and always had been. But the Capriottis fascinated her. They didn’t judge. They stuck together no matter what—something she had zero experience with. She picked up her phone and stared at it for a long moment before starting a text.

  Lanie: Hi, Mom.

  Mom: What’s wrong?

  Lanie: Nothing. Just wanted to check in.

  Mom: Why?

  Lanie: I’m actually in town. Thought I could come by. See you and Dad.

  Mom: . . .

  Lanie: You there?

  Mom: Your dad’s in Europe for work for a month. And us Jacobses don’t do casual visits.

  Lanie: There’s always a first time.

  Mom: You need something? Are you in trouble?

  Lanie sighed and set her phone aside. She told herself it was fine, that she was here to simply hit reset on her life and not get involved emotionally or otherwise. So she loaded Netflix and lost herself in a Friends marathon, season one, when everyone was at least as screwed up as she was.

  Chapter 4

  Me: It’s not even that serious.

  Inner me: Have a breakdown anyway.

  River Green sat in her 1998 Camry in the Capriotti Winery parking lot peering through her dusty windshield. The place was pretty, real pretty. And upscale.

  Way above her pay grade.

  But since she didn’t currently have a pay grade, that wasn’t saying much. People were sitting on the patio at two huge white tables, smiling, laughing, talking, and eating from what looked like a huge feast of food.

  Her belly rumbled and she rubbed it. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m hungry too.”

  So hungry.

  She didn’t belong at those tables. Hell, she didn’t belong anywhere, but that was a problem for another day. Today she was here doing recon. Trying to figure out how to go about her life goal.

  Which
was to get back what was hers.

  Because her legs were cramping, she got out of the car and stretched her aching back. Twenty-one years old last week and yet she felt like an old woman. Driven by more than a little desperation, she walked up the path and peeked into the winery. The big, open, barn-like room had a reception area and yes, thank you, sweet baby Jesus, a drinking fountain with small paper cups available.

  She made her way to it and drank. And drank. She needed to go back for her water bottle and fill that up too because this water was fresh and cool and helped her jumbled thoughts come together.

  But more than that, she needed to get back to the car before anyone saw her. She went outside again, staggering a little bit because moving too fast had spots dancing across her vision.

  “Not now,” she murmured and did her best to shake it off. She got to the Camry and opened the driver’s side door, but then put out a hand to lean heavily against it and give herself a minute.

  “Hello,” someone said.

  River turned her head. A woman, maybe fifty years old. Dark brunette hair streaked with gray, dark eyes, and a welcoming smile. “Can I help you?” she asked River.

  Shit. Crap. Damn . . . River shook her head. “No, thank you. I . . .”

  The woman came around the car and took in River’s body and smiled. “Ah. How far along are you?”

  “Six months,” River said softly and put a hand on her swollen belly.

  “Six months is a wonderful time. You can feel the baby move around. Gives a purpose to your suffering,” the woman said with a gentle smile. “Sit, honey. You look dead on your feet.”

  And before River knew what was happening, she was sitting on the wooden bench against the split-rail fencing, beyond which seemed like miles and miles of thriving grapevines on rolling hill after rolling hill.

  The woman next to her smiled reassuringly and took in River’s opened car, and the suitcase in it.

  All her worldly possessions.

  “You know what?” the woman said, standing, pulling River up with her. “It’s way too warm out here in the sun for me. I need to get inside. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” River said, but the truth was the woman was helping her, keeping a good grip on River’s arm. Her vision got cobwebby and the next thing she knew, she was sitting in a comfy, cushy chair inside the cool reception area, her feet up on a low coffee table strewn with brochures on the winery and the surrounding areas, sipping water from a real glass with ice cubes.

  “Better?” the woman asked worriedly.

  River blinked. She’d nearly passed out. Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad. She needed to be able to take care of herself and her baby. “Much better,” she said and mustered a smile past her panic and pounding heart. She started to get up, but the woman stopped her.

  “Not yet,” she said quietly. “Wait right here.”

  And then she vanished out the set of French double doors at the other end of the building.

  River allowed herself a second to lean her head back and close her eyes as she ran a hand over her swollen belly. “We’re okay,” she whispered, as she’d been doing ever since the shocking day she’d learned she was pregnant.

  With no time for a pity party, she straightened and started to hoist herself out of the chair, but was stopped short by the sight of the woman coming back into the room carrying a plate of food that smelled nothing short of amazing.

  “I thought you might be hungry. I’m Cora, by the way,” the woman said, handing River the plate filled with meat and cheese lasagna, baked bread, and a salad, all of it making her mouth water so that she lost her thoughts again and couldn’t speak. It was a good thing there was a fork on the plate or she’d have dived in with her fingers.

  She was halfway through the food before she realized that she was literally hunched over it like a wild, rabid dog, inhaling like she hadn’t eaten in days. But it hadn’t been that long.

  Had it?

  Cora’s smile was nonjudgmental and easy. “What’s your name, child?”

  “River.” She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said that. “I . . . thank you.” She started to set the plate down on the coffee table but Cora shook her head.

  “Finish,” she said.

  River had just stuffed in another bite when the next question came.

  “Are you here about the temp job?”

  River stopped chewing and met Cora’s gaze. Job? “Uh . . . maybe . . . ?”

  Cora smiled. “That would be lovely. It’s for the receptionist position, which as you can see is empty. My niece Cecilia was working the desk, but she’s taking some college courses and is feeling overwhelmed.” She pointed to the HELP WANTED sign in the window.

  River looked at it and her heart started pounding again.

  “Once Cecilia figures out how to handle both classes and the job, she’ll most likely come back,” Cora said. “But that could be months and we need someone now. Do you have any experience?”

  “Um . . .” River’s mind raced but she didn’t have to lie to answer this question. “I waitressed at the busiest truck stop in the country, the one on Highway 15 in Barstow.”

  “Wow,” Cora said. “So you’re good at serving assholes.”

  River blinked at the swear word coming out of sweet Cora’s mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Very good,” she said, tasting the irony.

  “Oh, the only ma’am around here is my mom. You can call me by my given name. Any other experience?”

  “Well . . . I was going to Barstow’s community college at night to become an LVN, a licensed vocational nurse,” River admitted shyly. Barstow wasn’t the greatest little town in the world but for a while there, it’d been good to her. Until her world had caved in.

  “Was?”

  River put a hand on her belly. “I finished my first semester a few months ago but had to skip semester two.” For lack of funds. A severe lack. Not to mention she’d been sick and so tired.

  And devastated . . .

  Cora was looking thoughtful and sympathetic, a powerful combination for River because it made her feel things when she’d been trying so hard not to feel anything at all. She had no idea what she thought she was doing here. She’d only intended to get a look at the place and figure out how to get back what was rightfully hers, but she’d been sucked right in.

  “This job would be a piece of cake compared to waitressing and taking classes at the same time,” Cora said. “The responsibilities are answering the phone and making people feel warm and welcome when they come in the front door. If they’re here for a tour, you’ll seat them, make small talk if they’re interested, and keep them happy and comfortable until their tour guide comes for them.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” River heard herself say.

  Cora smiled. “It’s a fun job. I had it myself when I was your age.”

  “And now you’re the receptionist’s boss?”

  Cora laughed, a musical sound. “Baby, I’m everyone’s boss. I run the place.”

  “Wow,” River whispered in awe. “You must be really smart.”

  “Mostly I’m just a quick learner. And I bet you are too. The job isn’t quite full-time hours, but it pays decently.”

  River wasn’t sincerely considering this, was she? She wasn’t here for this. Besides, she had bigger problems, and no matter how “decently” the job paid, she knew it still wouldn’t be enough to make it so that she could afford a place to live.

  Cora was quiet a moment, her head turned, her gaze pensive as she looked out the window. Possibly looking at River’s car, although River hoped not.

  She’d been on her own since age fifteen and it was a point of pride that she hadn’t starved to death in the six years since. But while that much was true, she wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that she was currently homeless.

  Which brought her to her current mission, a mission she was forgetting about because Cora kept sweetening the pot.

  “We’re not super close to town. To
make up for that, we also provide room and board.”

  River stilled. “Room and board, meaning . . .”

  “We’ve got a series of small cottages for our employees if they so choose, and there’s a community lunch every day. You’d be on your own for the other two meals, but there’s always containers of food in the employee fridge, if you don’t mind leftovers.”

  River actually reached down and pinched her thigh to make sure she hadn’t passed out and was dreaming all of this. Decent pay and room and board? To not have to live in her car? It felt like Christmas.

  “What do you think, honey?” Cora asked. “Are you interested?”

  “Yes,” River heard herself say. “Very.”

  “Great!” Cora looked pleased with herself. “When can you start?”

  She’d clearly lost her mind. She’d come to case out the place and steal back what was hers, and now she worked here? “Right this very minute,” she said.

  Cora stood and took the empty plate in one hand and River’s hand in another and helped her up.

  Ridiculously grateful—getting up out of a chair was starting to be as difficult as . . . well, checking to make sure she had her shoes on—she followed when Cora pulled her along.

  Her mom had told her to never be a follower, to make her own way along her own path, but River had been fifteen back then. On top of her world. She and her mom had been a team, a good one. She’d never known her dad, but she hadn’t missed his presence. Granted, life hadn’t been easy. They’d lived in a rough neighborhood and her mom had worked a lot, but together they’d been invincible. At the time, the thought of making her own path had seemed exciting, and easy.

  It’d turned out to be anything but.

  But even if she’d managed to resist Cora, River had a feeling that God himself would follow the woman’s soft, sweet demands.

  They ended up in the next building over, which was set up with open-room-style offices. Cora stopped at a desk in front of a woman who had to be her own age. She wasn’t sitting, but instead stood behind her desk glaring at it.

  “Mia,” Cora said. “Meet River, our new temporary receptionist.”

  “Can’t talk right now,” Mia said. “A spider just landed on my desk. Oh, and in other news, it turns out when I’m startled, I can jump five feet in the air with just the power of my butt cheeks.”