Once we left the lodge, we piled into one large van and headed down to Dirhurst, which is a ten minute drive down the mountain on the snowy road. The town is picturesque in March, the shops downtown modeled after what I pictured the buildings in Gothenburg would looked like. Tall and pale, with red clay roofs lightly dusted with snow. The sidewalks have been shoveled, and the cobblestone roads are cordoned from traffic. Around the town square is a large fountain. Green, luscious wreaths hang on the black lamp-posts throughout the town.
Diana took Reagan to a nearby shoe store while Brooke whisked Jill and me away into a clothing boutique. It’s a quaint shop, with an over ambitious rack of festive hats and colorful clothing made for women who clearly want to stand out.
Brooke stands in front of the dressing room mirror in a bright green skirt and matching vest over her white blouse. I hate to tell her that she’s right about the skirt bunching up, not to mention the hideous color on her.
“Any idea what happened last night?” Jill stands behind the chair I sit in, ruffling through a rack of sale items. She doesn’t seem interested in shopping or the question she asked, and it's clear she was conditioned by Oscar to ask it.
“I heard Diana almost had a stroke. Did you see her, Jules? I wish I had. I heard she was screaming at the top of her lungs,” Brooke says as she looks at herself in the mirror again.
“Angry at the woman who threw the drink or angry at us?” Jill asks.
I look over my shoulder at Jill, who has lifted a cream dress from the rack and is studying it. “Who was that woman?”
“Rebecca Ryan,” Brooke answers for her. “You know, Peter’s wife.”
“Who?”
“Peter, Adam’s ex-business partner.” Brooke looks at me through the mirror. “Peter Ryan.”
Adam had a partner? When did this happen?
Brooke frowns, clearly from the confusion run over my face. “You didn’t know? Adam met Peter through Diana. Peter’s a plastic surgeon, he invented that new form of Botox you administer through pore sheets instead of needles. He and Adam paired up right after Adam and Di got married. But last year, Adam kicked Peter out.”
“Why?” I ask.
Brooke shrugs and pushes the door open to her change room, “Don’t know, but rumor is that Adam also took all Peter’s A-List clients.”
“Shocking,” Jill adds as Brooke disappears into the change room. I watch Jill as she holds the cream dress against her thin frame and gazes at her image in the mirror. “The man is nothing but a user.”
“Peter had to retire,” Brooke calls out from her change room. “Nobody would go to him anymore, and it’s because of Adam. He bled that poor man dry.”
Unbelievable.
I mean, I knew Adam could be egotistical and jealous but to use someone like that, to actually destroy someone’s career...that had to have been Diana’s doing. Her influence.
“I can’t believe he would ruin Peter’s career like that,” I tell them. “I mean, that’s a different kind of evil.”
Jill scoffs as she pulls the dress away from her body, “Adam’s a user, Jules. That’s what he does. He uses people and then throws them aside, like garbage.” She catches me watching her and her face falls. “Well, I just mean that, you know.”
I smile at her, “It’s okay, Jill.”
“Jules knows he’s like that,” Brooke leaves the dressing room without the skirt. “She’s lucky she got away when she did.”
I never felt like Adam was using me when we were together, but then again, it became clear he was very good at the game he was playing. I found out a little bit too late though, didn’t I? It sounds like poor Peter did too.
“What were they doing at the lodge?” I ask Brooke and Jill. “It’s a small world, them being here at the same time we are.”
“Not really,” Jill says. “It’s the nearest ski resort from the city and Diana’s circle of people spend most weekends here during the season.”
Explains why she choose this place, a real life audience for her and Adam.
“Let’s go get some hot chocolate,” Brooke suggests.
“Do they offer Kahlua with it?” Jill jokes.
We leave the store and, with the crew still filming us, cross the busy cobblestone street to a small cafe. It’s bustling with people and the line is almost to the door. A group of teenage girls in expensive winter wear hold up the front of the line, taking selfies and giggling. I can smell the bitterness of coffee and warm sugar from the pastry display near the front door, it’s making me hungry.
“This line is going to take forever,” Jill groans as she spots the teenage girls at the front of the line. “And I doubt anything they have here is organic.”
“I’ll wait in line,” Brooke offers jumping into it, “grab our orders.”
Jill makes a face. “I’ll pass thanks.”
“I’ll take a peppermint hot chocolate,” I tell Brooke.
“Ohh, yummy,” Brooke smiles. “My daughter loves those. I’ll get one too.”
“There’s a maple syrup shop a few doors down,” Jill tells me. “They have a sign for organic maple syrup, I want to get some.”
I follow Jill out of the cafe, back into the cool air. She links her arm through mine as she slowly walks down the sidewalk, the camera crew hovering behind us as we walk on. “Diana called Brooke this morning.”
“Really? Why?” I look over at her. We turn a corner and head down Main Street, where we were dropped off earlier.
“She wants to meet with her for dinner tonight to talk about yesterday,” Jill answers. “She wants to apologize. Says she didn’t mean to hurt Brooke like she did.”
“Is Brooke going?”
“Yes, but I think it’s a mistake. Reagan and I are having dinner tonight, join us if you want,” she suddenly offers. “We’re meeting in my room at seven o’clock.”
“Okay,” I wonder if I sound too eager because Jill smirks slightly. “I would love to.” After we walk a few steps in silence she speaks up again. Her voice soft and sincere as she watches my expression. “How are you doing with all of this? The whole Adam thing, I mean?”
“I’m doing fine,” I reply, “I honestly am. What happened was a long time ago now. And like I’ve said, I have moved on. I don’t even think about Diana or Adam.”
“With a man like Simon Friburg, I don’t doubt it,” Jill laughs. “He’s very good looking.” I frown at her and she leans in to whisper to me, trying to make sure the crew can’t hear us. She even covers her chest where her tiny mic must sit beneath her jacket. “I googled him last night, I never heard of him before.”
“Oh, right, yes’s handsome…” I play on her words. I stop quickly when I notice a sidewalk chalk sign that declares in bubbly wording, “ONLY ORGANIC SYRUP IN TOWN! 50 PERCENT OFF”. “Oh, look here it is.”
We walk up to the glass door together, but before we walk through Jill gasps lightly. Diana and Reagan are inside. Several shopping bags hang off Diana’s arm as she samples some of the maple syrup candy the good looking man behind the counter is offering her. Next to her Reagan stands watching.
“Let’s skip it,” Jill tells me. “I don’t feel like arguing with that brainless twat today.”
She swings me around quickly and we crash into someone. They let out a shriek as they stumble backwards and even Jill cries out as something splashes onto her coat. I glance up to see the trio of teenage girls from the cafe standing a few feet away from us. One of them, with black hair in a high ponytail and a faux fur headband keeping her ears warm, is staring at her white jacket which is coated with dark liquid. The same liquid that is now drenching the front of Jill’s jacket.
“You stupid old cows!” The teenage girl yells looking at us. “Look what you did to my coat!” Her two friends produce napkins from their pockets and begin to dab her coat.
“Excuse me?” Jill shoots back. “It was your fault as much as mine. You should have been
watching where you were walking!”
“This jacket costs more than your entire ensemble,” the girl snaps as she gestures at Jill’s body. “It’s limited edition Burberry, what’s yours? K-mart’s exclusive?”
“Hey,” I say frowning at her. “There isn’t a need to be mean.”
She shoots me a glare. “It is when my jacket costs over a thousand dollars, grandma.”
My jaw tightens at the girl’s stare. “Look we're sorry. Contact the Maple Crest Lodge and put the dry cleaning bill on Jill Brady’s account, or mine, Julie Duncan.”
But the girl doesn’t register what I say because she’s notices the nearby camera crew, snickering and filming the scene. “Why do you have cameras following you? Oh, is that show about middle aged woman trying to find rich husbands?” Both of her friends laugh at her joke as the girl gives me and Jill a satisfactory smile.
I gawk at her. “You’re very rude.”
The teenage girl lets out a laugh, “Oh wow. You really offended me, old bat.”
Jill’s teeth clench. “You stupid little—”
“You have our information,” I cut Jill off as I link my arms through hers and tug her around the teenage girls. “Just send the bill to the lodge.”
The girls start angrily chirping to each other as I hurry Jill away. “Can you believe them? They were what? Sixteen? I can’t believe how rude they were!”
“You guys should really look for husbands that can fix you’re haggard faces!” Burberry Coat Girl shouts at us. I can feel Jill’s walk stiffen. “But, what am I saying? They’d probably ditch you for someone younger!”
That’s it.
I let go of Jill and bend down to receive some snow from nearby pile. I make a small, snowball as Jill asks what I’m doing. I stand up quickly and turn to face the girls, hurling the snowball towards them. It hits Burberry Coat near the neck and she lets out a shriek.
Jill laughs, and I relink my arms with her. “Okay, now let’s get out of here.”
We run away as best as we can, turning the corner to see Brooke hurrying towards us, with two take out cups. She frowns and stops short when she sees Jill. “What happened?”
“Let’s get in a shop,” I tell them both as I rub my bare hands together. “Its freezing.”
For the next hour, Brooke, Jill and I entertain ourselves, we try clothes on that we know won’t look the best on us, and we pick clothes for each other to try on. We find a rack of hats, boater hats and berets, flat hats and bucket hats galore. I find myself having a good time, and laughing with the two of them as the shopkeepers gave us confusing glares and frowns.
When the camera crew informs us it was time to head back to the van, I rush to the check out. I felt compelled to purchase a black beret after the mess we made with the clothes and the three change rooms we took over.
We leave the store and begin to head towards the area where the van is parked, near the water fountain. We haven’t even reached the gigantic, gorgeous stone fountain when we hear shouting behind us.
Jill turns around as I unlink my arms from her and Brooke. She doesn’t even have time to blink before a ball of snow slams into her chin. She tumbles backwards a little as she gives out a shout and begins to wipe the snow from her face. Something crashes into my chest and immediately breaks apart on my boots.
“What is—” Brooke’s cut off as a snowball hits her nose, she drops her shopping bags. A few more go flying over our heads, between our legs, and I glance up to see Burberry Coat Girl and her friends with arms full of snowballs. They throw several more and Brooke screams as they hit our legs and arms, one of them hits the very top of my head.
I cover my head with my hands as Jill and Brooke do the same.
“What the—do they have bionic arms?!” Jill shouts.
“Get your bags!” I scream at Brooke as she struggles to pick them up.
I grab some snow and start making a snowball, but one hits me in the cheek and snow flies into my eye. I drop the snow in my hands and begin to rub my eye. I can hear the zipping of more snowballs fly around us.
Jill grabs hold of my arm and Brooke’s, “Run!”
She tugs us only a few steps when a snowball hits Brooke right in the nose again. She screams and drops her bags again, her arms flailing about as her legs hit the back of the fountain. She grabs hold of Jill and me to stop her fall.
A second later, she splashes into the fountain, landing hard on the stone. Jill lands on her hands and knees as a wave of water hits her face. Somehow I didn’t manage to stop myself and my legs gave away against the stone, sending me crashing down onto Brooke with a cry.
The sharp icy water stings through my jeans and onto my skin, it soaks through the arms of my coat and because I’ve landed on Brooke, all I can hear are her shrieks.
Why do I keep falling?!
Fifteen minutes later we’re sitting in the very back of the van, wrapped in blankets a crew member had to run and purchase from a local shop. Make up drips down our shivering faces, our hair has turned to ice, and our bodies are shaking against each other. I sit in between Jill and Brooke.
“You,” Jill begins to say through chattering teeth, “just had to throw that first snowball, didn’t you?”
I look over at her, and then at Brooke. They both frown annoyingly, as pieces of their hair stick like icicles against their cheeks. I gather enough strength to mutter, “Sorry.”
Chapter Ten
By seven o’clock, I’m hurrying down the hallway to meet Jill and Reagan at Jill’s suite, all warmed up from earlier today. When I get there I knock and wait to be led in. It’s Reagan who pulls the door open. She utters a greeting and moves aside to let me in.
I smile at her and shut the door behind me. “Did you have a good day shopping?”
“It was alright,” Reagan shrugs as she walks away from me.
I want to say “You would have had a way better time with me” but she speaks first. “I heard you guys were attacked by a bunch of kids.”
I enter Jill’s suite and my mouth drops.
It’s massive. It has its own living area and small kitchen. The bed is a king size like mine but there is also a set of leather couches facing a TV obviously wider than mine. Her balcony stretches around the corner of the room. I can see it through her white, lacy curtains.
“Ummm, they were teenagers,” I correct Jill as I watch her drop down on the bed. “Monster teenagers.”
“So Jill said, only she used R-rated terminology,” Reagan smirks.
“Where is Jill?” I ask her.
She motions over her shoulder, at a closed door near the bed. “Bathroom. She got a call and needed privacy she said. Oscar just called me actually, said he needs team B to film some scenery shots so he won’t be filming us tonight. He and his team are with Brooke and Diana.”
Thank God. A night off from dramatics.
I nod and glance around the room as Reagan picks at her nails in silence. After what seems like a minute or more, I can’t take the silence anymore and I break it. “So, Reagan. I wanted to talk to you.”
Treading on Declan’s advice, I attempt to apologize, again. “I really want you to know that what I did three years ago was shitty of me. It was wrong, and completely out of character. I’m not even going to use what I was going through as an excuse, because it wasn’t. It was just horrible of me to do to you. You were my best friend.”
She looks at me, thoughtfully. Dark eyes peering into mine, and her nose twitches. Then suddenly, it’s like a cloud drops over her and she folds her arms over her chest. “I told you the other day, it's fine. I’m over it. I get it. I don’t hold it against you.”
Damn it.
Okay, I can’t give up so easily this time.
I begin as I cross the room to where she sits on the bed. “I wish I could believe you, Reagan, but I’m getting the feeling you hate my guts. I don’t think you’re fully over it.”
&
nbsp; Reagan’s hands come down on her knees. “Let me ask you something, would you easily forgive someone who ghosted you for doing absolutely nothing wrong except check up on them? Would you forgive someone who made you feel like they used you for your kindness, friendship and then forgot you existed?”
Is her question two-fold?
“Would you?” she demands.
“Err...” I reply mouse like. “Probably, eventually. I forgave Adam, didn’t I?”
I don’t know why I used him an example but it was the first name that popped into my mind.
“You’ve forgiven Adam?” Reagan questions, eyebrows raising. “You’ve forgiven him for stepping out on you with Diana? You’ve forgiven him for using you to get on the show and building a reputation then throwing you to the side?”
I swallow the lump that’s popped up in my throat. “I told you I’ve changed, I moved on a long time ago. Forgive and forget. I’ve forgiven him, and Diana and Declan too.”
“Declan?” Reagan repeats his name with a frown. “You forgave him? Is it because he forgave you?”
What is she talking about?
“Why would he ever need to forgive me?” I ask her. “He’s the one who pretended to be my friend and then ruined my life.”
“What are you talking about?” Reagan demands. Her usual quiet voice reaches a new pitch as she scowls at me again. “He never ruined your life. That was Adam.”
I suddenly realize she doesn’t know what I found out. I never told her, I only told Fin and Ange. But the night I found out, Reagan had called and something stopped me, yet again, from picking up the phone. It was the last time she tried to get a hold of me.
“Never mind,” I turn away from her and run a hand through my hair. “Let’s just forget it.”
Reagan’s arms cross over her chest and she narrows her dark eyes at me. “Why do you think it was Declan who ruined your life? He never cheated on you. That was Adam.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I declare. “It was years ago. There’s no point in bringing up the past, and clearly, I’m here working with Declan so I have no problem with him anymore…”
Reuniting Reality Page 12