“Why would anyone want to have a TV show about this island?” he asked. “We don’t even have cars.”
“What’s this for, Riley?” Rebecca asked me, her eyes slightly narrowed.
“It’s a contest to pick the best small town in America,” I explained. “The winner gets all kinds of prizes. And grants and stuff for the town.”
“Who in the hell is going to watch a TV show about small towns in America?” Jake asked.
“Daddy said hell,” Mason giggled.
“Bad language,” Rebecca said automatically. “But he has a point. A TV show about small towns?”
“Why do people watch reality shows about anything?” Andrew asked. “Yesterday I saw a commercial for a show about extreme fishing.”
“That one’s great!” Jake said eagerly. “I watch it all the time.”
“The point,” Andrew said, “is that they make reality shows about anything these days. Fishing. Pawn shops. Home renovations. Rich housewives.”
“Travel and housing market shows are actually a pretty big draw right now,” I added.
“But we’re leaving out the best part,” Andrew said. “Heather Dale is hosting the thing!”
Great. This was exactly why I hadn't wanted to talk about this with Rebecca. I knew exactly what was coming next.
“Heather Dale?” she gasped. “Like, television star Heather Dale?”
“That’s the one,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, as if none of this was a big deal at all. From the way my sister kept watching me, I knew she wasn’t buying it.
“Who’s Heather Dale?” Mason asked.
“Your Aunt Riley’s hero,” Andrew said. “Don’t worry, most normal people have never heard of her.”
“So what would we have to do to win?” Jake asked.
“They’ll come out and shoot some segments,” Andrew explained. “And then every week viewers will vote on who they think should continue.”
“We would be judged on a combination of the personalities of the islanders and the amenities in the town,” I explained. “There would be specific tasks we’d have to do—”
“Tasks are like games,” Andrew said when Mason opened his mouth to ask yet another question.
“Cool!”
“It might be,” I said. “But there are a lot of towns entering, so we probably won’t be chosen.”
“I don’t know,” Jake said. “I think Lilac Bay is pretty unique—”
“You think so?” Andrew asked sarcastically. “What tipped you off? The giant piles of horse dung on Main Street or the fact that our mayor moonlights as a dance instructor? Or maybe it was the fact that we don’t have a full grocery store on this island, but we have seven different fudge shops.”
“Hey, Jimmy’s is as good as a grocery store,” Jake argued, and Andrew shot him a withering glare.
“It’s a glorified tackle shop.”
“Well, I think it’s charming,” Rebecca said. “The whole island has a lot of character. I bet they pick us after all.”
“We’ll see.” I grabbed my bowl and stood, hoping to change the subject. As excited as I was about the competition, my sister was the last person in the world I wanted to talk to about it. “Anyone else want seconds while I’m up?”
After dinner, Andrew insisted that he be the one to clean up. I had a feeling he was just hoping for a few moments of peace and quiet in the kitchen after the low roar of dinner with my nephews.
“I’m going to take these hooligans out back,” Jake said, kissing his wife’s cheek. “Try to run some of this energy off before bed.”
“Thanks, babe.” She refilled her wine glass and turned to me. “Come on, it’s still nice out. Let’s go sit on the porch.”
April evenings in northern Michigan meant chilly temperatures, so we took our jackets along with our wine glasses. Rebecca was right; it was still a beautiful evening. My sister lived on a street of tidy little ranches and bungalows that stretched from town up into the hills of the island. Looking down the street towards Town Square gave a perfect view of the waters of Lilac Bay below. The bay was a dark steely gray, the color mirrored in the sky, save for a wide swatch of pink that just touched the water’s edge.
“Sunset was probably beautiful tonight,” Rebecca said, sitting in her wicker rocking chair. I perched on the edge of the glider, looking down at the water.
“Probably was.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping our wine. I had a feeling my sister was relishing the quiet. Maybe I would get out of having to talk about the contest after all.
“So. Heather Dale, huh?”
Or maybe not.
“Yup. Heather Dale.”
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“About what?”
“Don’t be immature, Riley. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I pulled my foot up under me and turned so that I was better facing my sister. “I’m doing this for Lilac Bay, Beccs. I think it would be really good for our town.”
“And you’re not in any way trying to branch out?” she asked, sounding completely unconvinced. “You’re not hoping to beef up your resume so you can finally get out of here?”
“Rebecca—”
She set down her wine and leaned forward, elbows on knees, her gaze glued to my face. “You’ve wanted to work in television our entire lives, Riley.”
“That’s kind of an exaggeration.”
“It is not. All of the games we played when we were little, you were always the flashy news anchor from the big city. You were never a doctor. You were never a mommy or a teacher or a movie star. You were a journalist.”
“Yeah, and you always pretended to get kidnapped by bad guys in ski masks and I would have to find you. So maybe we shouldn’t judge each other on our crappy ten-year-old imaginations.”
“Who said anything about judging?” She flashed me a grin. “If I was going to judge you, I would have reminded you that you always insisted your pretend name was Jade Windsor Emeraldton.”
I grimaced while Rebecca sniggered. I had no ammunition there. If I recalled correctly, her pretend name was always Mary. As sweet and traditional as you could get.
“Seriously, though, Riley. I know you tried to pretend like you were okay giving all of that up when you moved back here—”
“I was okay with it. Because it was just a silly fantasy.”
“And that’s why you went to school for journalism? Because it was all a fantasy?”
“I went to school for journalism for about three seconds.”
“Three years.”
“People change majors all the time.” Which you would know if you had gone to college yourself, I thought. The way that you were supposed to.
“And you changing your major was what you wanted to do?” she asked. “It didn’t have anything to do with Mom or me?”
“Of course it had to do with Mom and you,” I snapped. This, right here, was why I hadn’t wanted Andrew to tell her about the competition. It was just dredging up all this old crap when we probably didn’t even have a chance at making the show anyhow.
On second thought, this was why I hadn’t wanted to come for dinner in the first place.
“All I’m saying,” she said, her voice softer now, “is that things are going just fine these days. I’m taken care of, Riley. I have everything I need. If there was an opportunity for you to maybe try something different…”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to let myself think of what that something different might be. Putting those thoughts out of my head was what had allowed me to get my business degree. It’s what had made it possible for me to come back to Lilac Bay after college, to get a good job, to build a life for myself here. Even if it wasn’t the life I had always dreamed of.
“I just think you should leave yourself open to any opportunity,” she said. “And now I’ll drop it, because this conversation is clearly making you want to crawl out of your skin.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you.”
We sat in silence for a long moment, sipping our wine, watching the band of pink down on the water narrow and narrow, the sky above getting progressively darker. From the backyard I heard the squeals and laughter of my nephews, playing with their dad.
“Have you seen her?” I finally asked, my voice barely loud enough to be heard. It was a stupid question. Of the two of us, Rebecca was the one who made regular attempts at staying in our mother’s daily life.
“I went over last week,” my sister said, her voice equally soft. “She seemed to be doing okay. The house was clean.”
Well, that was a good sign. When our mother went on one of her benders, a clean house was the last thing on her mind.
“I’ll stop by sometime this week,” I said, already dreading the visit. But that was the reason I was here, the reason I had come back to Lilac Bay after school. I had always told myself that I did more than my share—I was, after all, the one who cleaned up the big messes, the sister that was called when shit really hit the fan. But that didn’t mean it was fair to leave the day-to-day stuff with Rebecca.
“I’m sure she’ll like that,” Rebecca said, and I recognized the pain in her voice. I was sure she could hear it in mine as well.
“Mommy!” Mason called from the side of the house. “Come look! We’re catching fireflies!”
“Isn’t it a little early for fireflies?” I asked.
Rebecca rolled her eyes, standing. “Unlike me and you—Miss Jade Windsor Emeraldton, celebrity television news anchor—these boys have very active imaginations. I suppose I should go back and participate.”
I laughed, picking up the bottle of wine and our two empty glasses. “I may as well help Andrew finish up. See you inside.”
I stood on the porch as she made her way around the side of the house, watching my little sister’s back until she disappeared into the gathering darkness.
Chapter 5
The rest of the week was pretty uneventful. Libby, Posey, Cora, and I had dinner at Rose’s on Wednesday night. It was one of our favorite places to have girls' night—the food was the best on the island, the wine list was extensive, and if Edward or Zane were around we could always be assured they’d sit us in whatever section the cutest waiter was working. On Thursday night our Rec League team got crushed by the Elks team in kickball. Posey played for the Elks and was responsible for three of their runs, but she made it up to us when she bought the first round at Cora’s after the game. At work, I spent the week preparing for the Fish Fry, arguing with Millie about what she called my chronic overuse of printer paper, and sharing my lunches with Andrew. All in all, a pretty typical week on Lilac Bay.
On Friday morning I woke up to gray skies that matched my mood. I’d had one drink too many the previous night at Cora’s, and was paying for it now with a persistent, throbbing headache. A headache that I would have happily endured, if it only had the ability to get me out of my commitments for that evening.
Though I had promised Rebecca I would stop by to check on our mom, I had been avoiding it all week. I knew if I put it off until the next day it would just ruin my weekend, so after work it would have to be. At least that way I had a built-in excuse to leave early—the monthly meeting of the town’s commerce committee was that evening, and I was supposed to attend as representative to the mayor’s office.
A visit with my mother and a mind-numbingly boring meeting. Not the most fun way to spend a Friday night, that was for damn sure.
I felt like I was dragging from the moment I woke up, either from the effects of the booze the night before or my reluctance to start the day. By the time I got out of the shower, I was already running late, so I pulled my still-wet hair back into a quick ponytail and pulled on a pair of jeans—they were a little faded, probably not totally work appropriate, even on casual Friday, but I couldn’t make myself care too much—and an old sweater Rebecca had bought me for my birthday years ago. The cashmere had seen better days, but it was soft and the light blue matched my eyes. I always felt just a little better when I wore it and I figured I could use all the good mojo I could get today.
I bent to scratch Gordie Howe behind his ears, trying to ignore his plaintive mew. I swear, that cat could always tell when I was going to be gone for longer than a normal workday.
“I’d much rather stay here with you, all cuddled up on the couch,” I told him. “But one of us has to pay for your Fancy Feast, buddy.” His wide, please-love-me kitty eyes faded into that half-disgusted, half-disappointed expression, so popular in cats the world over, and he hopped down from the couch to slink away into the kitchen, probably in the hopes that his food dish had somehow managed to refill itself.
“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” I muttered, glancing out the window to find that the threatening gray clouds had decided to open up into a steady flow of rain.
“Awesome.” I turned to the coat closet, rummaging around until I found my umbrella. “A car would be really nice right about now,” I called to Gordie, but he ignored me.
I normally enjoyed my walk into work. Oak Street lived up to its name, lined on both sides with towering trees that kept the rambling old Victorians in constant shade. Making my way into town, I passed Sadie Taylor’s bakery and Fran’s fudge shop, which meant I started each day with the scent of both fresh baked bread and chocolate, my two favorite smells. But today even the combo of bread and fudge couldn’t snap me out of my bad mood. The rain seemed determined to come down in practically sideways sheets, and there were already puddles everywhere. By the time I got to Town Hall I was well on my way towards being drenched. So much for my lucky sweater.
Andrew made a sympathetic face when he saw me. “You get stuck in the rain?”
“No, Andrew,” I snapped. “I felt like going for a swim in the bay before work.”
He looked like he might want to tease me some more, but a glare from me had his mouth snapping closed.
“Want me to take your lunch to the fridge?” he asked nicely.
“Shit,” I muttered, looking down at my empty hands. I had taken my lunch out of the fridge that morning—leftover gumbo from Rose’s the other night—but it apparently hadn’t made it in with me. Now it would be ruined.
“Hey, I’ll get us a pizza or something,” he said.
I sighed, pushing some hair that escaped my ponytail back behind my ears. “Sorry I snapped. Crappy morning.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I’m having some of that myself. We should really stop going to Cora’s on work nights.”
“Then we’re going to need to stop losing on work nights,” I said.
“I can support that.” He gestured for me to go ahead and followed me into the office. “You’ll be glad to hear that Millie is also in a bad mood this morning.”
“Why would I be happy to hear that? Millie in a bad mood means Millie giving me even more crap than usual.”
“True. But if we have to be upset and annoyed, doesn’t it make you feel just a little better that she is too?”
I laughed. “You have a point.” We reached his desk and I gave him a little wave. “See you for lunch.”
“Pizza makes everything better!” he called after me.
I collapsed into my desk chair, relieved to find that Millie, bad mood or no, was nowhere to be seen. I glanced down at the clock on my phone as the computer booted up. Eleven minutes late. On second thought, maybe Millie was in with the mayor complaining about my tardiness.
I pulled up my email and got to work answering all the requests for the Fish Fry that had come in since yesterday. Sadie wanted to make sure that her booth was placed close to Cora’s mulled wine table. “You and everyone else on this island,” I muttered. The mulled wine was consistently the most popular item of the night. Everyone wanted to be stationed near Cora.
I pulled up an email from Jerry Brooks and immediately wished I hadn’t. Apparently his neighbor’s new English Shepherd had been getting into his yard. And it really upsets the chickens, Riley, h
e wrote. You know how sensitive they are.
“Lord, give me strength,” I muttered under my breath, and I pulled out a pad of paper and took notes on the pertinent details. Of course, dealing with upset chickens was hardly part of my job description. But most of the people on this island seemed to think that the best way to deal with any problem, regardless of size, was to bring it to the mayor’s office. So Jerry’s chickens had just become my number one priority.
My phone rang. A quick look at the screen showed Andrew’s extension.
“You look like you’re about to commit murder,” he said.
I leaned around my computer and could just make him out across the room. He was leaning back in his chair, grinning at me, feet resting on the desk.
“Jerry’s worried about the emotional well-being of those damn chickens. Again.”
He laughed. “You should forward it to your brother-in-law.”
“Yeah, because the police should totally be dealing with something so asinine.”
“But the mayor’s office should?”
I sighed. “You’re right, no one should have to deal with this. But what am I going to do? Tell Jerry to fuck off?”
He laughed again. “You really are in a bad mood today, swearing at work. What if Millie heard you?”
“Did you have something to talk about, Andrew, or did you just feel like messing with me?”
“Sorry. I’ll let you get back to your chickens.”
I hung up, feeling even more annoyed than I had when I opened Jerry’s email. And this was what I had to look forward to all day. Responding to the same requests about the Fish Fry. Trying to mediate a damn chicken dispute between Jerry and his neighbor. Millie’s attitude.
Suddenly it all felt like too much. This was what I did for a living, day in and day out. This is what I had gone to school for, what I was still paying off student loans for. To sit in this office and deal with pure ridiculousness. Nothing ever changed around here and nothing ever would. When I actually put effort into my work, when I tried to make it mean something, the mayor turned me down flat. Apparently this was all I could expect for as long as I worked here. It felt, in that moment, completely impossible to put up with for a second longer.
Always You: A Lilac Bay Novel (Friends with Benefits) Page 7