Unnerved, Brooke edged back toward the stairs. “What?”
“We’re in television production.” The woman accepted the dry towel her partner offered and wrapped it around her hair. “I’m Barbara Berkman; this is my husband, Mitch. Right now, we’re partnered with a cable home improvement network. We’re in talks to shoot a pilot for a concept called Four-Wall Face-Lift, and we’re still looking for a host. The show targets Gen-X females and we need someone adorable. Articulate. Accessible.”
“Really? That sounds …” Brooke tried to appear blasé. “Interesting.”
“You’re exactly what we’re looking for. You should come down and audition. Mitch! Where are our business cards?”
The ever-helpful Mitch ducked back into the bedroom and returned with two business cards and a pair of terry-cloth robes.
“I’m going to take down all your contact information before we check out tomorrow,” Barbara Berkman said. “Do you have a head shot, by any chance?”
“Oh, goodness, no. Although I do have an official staff photo from the college alumni affairs brochure.”
Barbara waved her hand dismissively. “No matter, a Polaroid will do for now. The only catch is, if the network picks up the show, we’ll be filming in Manhattan. You’d have to relocate to New York City.”
Brooke paused for a moment, considering. She thought about how comfortable and safe her life in Thurwell had become. She considered how easy it would be to stick to the routine she’d established. Then she thought about Everett and Professor Rutkin, and how she’d started to love the feel of hardware in her hands. And how many more times she could realistically bring herself to reprimand mature, professional adults for having sex in her showers. “That wouldn’t be a problem for me.”
When she returned to the living room, the burned-out attorney was waiting for her with crumbs on his shirtfront and a wistful expression on his face.
She offered him a fresh pastry along with her most dazzling smile. “Mr. Croucher, were you being sincere when you said you would buy this place if you had half a chance?”
“Absolutely.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve been trapped at a desk under fluorescent lights for too long. I’d love to finally get a crack at my dream job.”
“Well, your dream may be about to come true.” Brooke batted her eyes and offered him a pen. “Make me an offer.”
“My friends are my estate.”
—Emily Dickinson
Wine coolers again?” Jamie shook her head when Anna brought the six-pack into the living room. The sofa and love seats had been draped in old bedsheets and the contents of the bookshelves had been packed into boxes, but the fire blazing away behind the old masonry hearth kept the dark, drafty room warm and cozy. “You’re killing me. It’s New Year’s Eve! We should be cracking open the champagne.”
Anna glanced at the label on the package. “Would you prefer peach or strawberry-kiwi?”
“This is seasonally inappropriate,” Jamie protested. “There’s two feet of snow on the ground. What about Irish coffee? Hot toddies?”
“Peach or strawberry?” Anna repeated.
“I hate you.” Jamie paused. “Peach, please.”
Anna handed over a bottle. “Wine coolers may not be strictly traditional, but they’re our tradition. It’s our last night in Henley House, and we need to mark the occasion.”
Jamie muttered under her breath and propped her ratty plaid-slippered feet up on the coffee table. “Do we at least get some fresh-baked goodies to soak up all the cheap alcohol and artificial flavors?”
Anna conducted a quick mental inventory of the kitchen. “I made an eggnog trifle and some chocolate marshmallow cupcakes. Oh, and I have an English plum pudding left over from the holiday party I catered last night.”
“I love you.” Jamie grinned. “Cupcake, please.”
The front porch creaked as Cait and Brooke hurried up the steps and into the foyer.
“Holy Kelvin.” Cait shucked off her mittens and blew into her cupped hands. “It’s, like, absolute zero out there.”
The glass pane embedded in the doorframe rattled as Brooke dropped her ski boots onto the bristled black floor mat. Her eyes widened when she saw the six-pack on the end table. “Wine coolers? Don’t start without us!”
“So?” Jamie asked. “How was the double date?”
Cait wriggled out of her hat, jacket, and scarf. “It was fun, except Brooke and her knight in shining hardware were so busy making out that we barely got onto the slopes.”
“We only see each other every other weekend right now,” Brooke said. “Besides, don’t think I didn’t see you and Gavin accosting each other on the chairlift. Maybe you wouldn’t be so cold if you’d keep your coat on.”
“My extremities may be chilly,” Cait said, “but my heart is on fire.”
“Your heart?” Jamie laughed.
Cait grabbed one of the cupcakes Anna offered. “Bless you. I don’t know how you found time to bake for us with the whirlwind of Christmas parties you had to cater, but I’m eternally grateful.” She sat down on the floor next to a pile of boxes and warmed her hands by the fire. “So now that the holidays are over, are you heading back to Albany?”
“Not yet,” Anna said. “I promised Trish I’d stay here and help her until she has the baby. It’s tough being apart from Jonas, but he understands, and luckily, he doesn’t mind driving up here to see me on the weekends.”
“He’s my favorite houseguest ever,” Brooke said. “Always up first thing to shovel the walk and start a fresh pot of coffee. And those waffles he made last week! Is he always this helpful?”
“Not always.” Anna smiled mischievously. “Let’s just say I give him lots of incentive to keep coming back. Which reminds me—you’re going to have to give me the make and model of that showerhead so we can do a little remodeling of our own when I finally do go home.”
“Hey, speaking of Trish, did her boyfriend ever resurface?” Cait asked.
Anna shook her head. “Just long enough to tell her he couldn’t handle the responsibility of impending fatherhood. Then he vanished back into the ether.”
“How’s she handling it?” Brooke asked.
“All bluster and bravado. Typical Trish.” Anna sighed. “I know she’s scared witless, though.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Cait said. “So what’s she going to do when the baby’s born?”
“Well, I’m trying to convince her to move to Albany and open a bakery with me. Thanks to Arden, I have plenty of start-up money.”
“You two would be quite the dynamic duo. What’d she say?”
“She said she’d only relocate if I proved I was serious by enrolling in culinary school and training with a professional pastry chef.”
“And?” Cait prompted.
“And.” Anna spread open her hands. “Classes start this spring.”
“More over, Julia Child!” Jamie crowed.
“What about the adoption stuff?” Brooke asked.
“We finally got all the paperwork filed and approved.” Anna picked at a fluted paper cupcake liner. “Now the waiting begins.”
Brooke nodded sympathetically. “That’s the worst part, huh?”
“You know, I thought it would be, but now I’m realizing that it’s going to be less excruciating than waiting for the outcome of all those fertility treatments. Because this time I know I’m not in control. At least I can stop blaming my body, you know? I’ve done everything I can, but ultimately, it’s not up to me. It’ll happen when it happens.”
“Soon,” Brooke assured her. “You and Jonas are going to be great parents.”
“And just think,” added Jamie, “someday you’ll be able to tell your little tyke that you knew Brooke Asplind when.”
Brooke squinched up her pert little nose. “When what?”
“When you were a humble B-and-B owner,” Anna said. “Back before you skyrocketed to fame and fortune as the host of Four-Wall Face-Lift.”
“Oh
please.” Brooke gulped her wine cooler and flushed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve only taped a few episodes so far.”
“I know.” Anna glanced toward the TV in the corner. “We just watched the rough cut of the one where you show us how to refinish hardwood floors.”
“I told you not to touch that DVD!”
“But you left it where we could find it,” Jamie replied. “Knowing damn well we have no self-control.”
Cait nodded up at Mr. Wonderful. “This is the house of boundary issues, remember?”
“That reminds me.” Brooke snapped her fingers. “I’ve got to dismantle Mr. Wonderful and pack him up before the movers arrive.”
“You’re taking him to Manhattan?”
“I couldn’t possibly leave him here after all we’ve been through together.” Brooke looked aghast at the very suggestion. “The sales contract specifically states that ‘the decorative bronze finial atop the newel post does not convey to the buyer.’”
“We’ll find the perfect spot for him in our new apartment,” Jamie assured her.
Cait spun around to face Jamie. “You’re moving to New York City, too?”
“That’s right. I’m using my inheritance to start my own event-planning business. I figure I can use my Maureen Richmond contacts as a jumping-off point. Lots of the guests from Manhattan told me it was the most elegant and entertaining nonwedding they’d ever attended. So I’m going all in. You know I can’t do anything halfway.” Jamie shrugged and took another sip of wine cooler. “Besides, Scarlett here needs a roommate.”
“You’re not moving in with Everett?” Anna asked Brooke.
“Are you kidding me?” Brooke’s hand fluttered up to her throat. “I’ve only been dating him for two months. My mother is already wringing her hands about my relocating to the big city. She could never face her bridge club again if I started living in sin.” Brooke glanced at Cait and murmured, “No offense.”
Cait laughed. “None taken. I’m not moving in with Gavin, either, FYI, although sinning is very much on the agenda. I need my own time and space to write. When Gavin and I get together, we tend to get somewhat undisciplined.”
“Hearts on fire and all?” Anna teased.
“Precisely. Separate living quarters is the best option for both of us right now. I’m hoping to sign a lease by the end of next week and live off my Arden Henley Literary Fellowship funds until I sell a book or five. The starving-artist routine is highly overrated. I need food and health insurance and TiVo.”
Brooke dug a chunky knit blanket out of one of the half-packed moving boxes and wrapped it around her shoulders. “It’s chilly in here. Let’s build up the fire and make s’mores, just like the old days.”
“I thought we weren’t allowed to violate the sanctity of the clean carpet,” Jamie said.
“I’m closing escrow next week. In less than seven days, this carpet—along with the rest of the house—is no longer my problem.”
“Can I do my toenails?” Anna asked.
“Knock yourself out.”
Jamie and Anna high-fived. “I still can’t believe that old lawyer guy actually followed through on that offer.”
“With a lot more cash than I expected.” Brooke raised her wine cooler. “Here’s to unloading my dream job.”
Jamie chimed in with, “To new beginnings and old friends.”
“To Arden,” Cait said.
Anna grinned. “To the English majors. We may not always be practical, but we have infinite potential.”
Four voices rang out in unison: “Cheers!”
BETH KENDRICK got her B.A. in English at a small liberal arts college before earning her Ph.D. in psychology and then pulling a professional U-turn to pursue her dream job of becoming a novelist. Her previous women’s fiction titles include Fashionably Late, Nearlyweds, and The Pre-Nup. She lives in Arizona with her family and a pair of unruly rescue dogs. You can visit her website at www.BethKendrick.com.
Second Time Around is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Bantam Books Trade Paperback Original
Copyright © 2010 by Beth Macias
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kendrick, Beth.
Second time around / Beth Kendrick.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90712-4
1. Female friendship—Fiction. 2. Chick lit. I. Title.
PS3611.E535S43 2010
813’.6—dc22
2009047665
www.bantamdell.com
v3.0
Table of Contents
Other Books by this Author
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
Copyright
Second Time Around Page 27