Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Aunt Greta smiles and takes a drink. “That’s a great idea, Rolly.”

  “Didn’t you quit?” Mom asks loudly. She leans out so I can fully see her disappointment. “Tonya called last night to see if you were here. Said you weren’t returning her messages. She’s worried.”

  Ren is suddenly interested. “Wait. You’re still talking to Tonya? I thought—”

  “Complete misunderstanding,” Mom answers quickly, then asks for Ren to pass the dressing.

  I clear my throat. I can do this. “There wasn’t a misunderstanding with Tonya, Mom. It’s perfectly clear what she did. And I didn’t quit.” I look briefly to Dad for encouragement.

  He gives a slight nod. That’s all I need.

  “I’m going freelance. I’ll be finishing my projects off-site while I work up my new studio’s business plan.” I square my shoulders and look to Mom. “I already have one contract locked in.”

  “Maybe two,” Rolly says and smiles warmly at my aunt.

  I like Rolly.

  Grayson looks from Mom to me. “You have a client contract? Who?”

  I’m not quite sure how Shane’s contract with Safia will work when I leave, but he said he’d hire me, so maybe future work? I take a breath and just go with it. “Well, Shane Bennett’s farm, for starters.”

  Mom’s face changes to distaste. I’m not sure if it’s because of the mention of Shane or the word farm.

  Mom puffs a breath. “I forgot his family had a farm.”

  It’s probably both. “Yes, well, he’s developed a restaurant theater and has plans to grow it into a chain. The beta site is located on his property. It’s really great. It borders La Porte, that little touristy area, remember?” I take a bite and look her in the eye. My heart is thumping an odd beat.

  “I like farms,” Rolly says to me. “Love all the animals. Do they have horses? Such smart animals.”

  “How are you going to support yourself with one client, Kenzi?” Grayson then turns to Dad. “That’s not feasible.”

  The waitress refills Aunt Greta’s glass. “Thank you.” She looks at Rolly. “Pigs are smarter, actually. But I’m not sure they have any animals, Rol.”

  “I’m sure having the Carriage House restaurant as a first client is enough to get her started.” My dad regards Grayson. “Plus, she can take over the spa’s graphic design work.”

  I smile at Dad. “Really?”

  He pulls down his lips and nods. “And I expect a discount.”

  Rolly wipes his mouth again, now using the pink napkin. “Did you know pigs are clean? They’ve gotten a bad rap.”

  I notice Mom’s quiet. There’s no use in trying to convince her she was wrong. I’d only be spinning my wheels. I can’t change her. But I can change my reaction to her. “The party was pulled off beautifully, Mom.” Even if its intent was misguided. “It’s, um, really something.”

  “I didn’t say they were dirty, I said they were smart. Pigs are smart,” Aunt Greta says to Rolly, shaking her head.

  Mom’s icy exterior thaws at my compliment. Mom is Mom. It’s always going to be about appearances. It’s how she sees the world.

  I see it differently.

  “Oh, well. Thank you.” She flashes me a smile. “It’s nice of you to notice. I wasn’t sure if we should do chicken or fish, but the chicken seems to be a hit.”

  Rolly leans over. “Do they have chickens?”

  Taking a sip of my water, I look around and catch Ren’s eyes. She pops them at me with a small grin, which makes me smile. We seem to be thinking the same thing. They’re all insane. But they’re family. And in the end, that’s what matters.

  In 13 Going on 30, Jennifer Garner’s character, Jenna, wants to be thirty, flirty, and thriving. Through wishing dust, it’s granted, but it’s not quite as she hoped. Eventually, she gets a second chance. A do-over.

  I’m not quite thirty and my life isn’t thriving. But just like Jenna Rink, I have another chance to start in a new direction. Turns out, I get my do-over after all.

  No wishing dust needed. Only courage.

  REN AND GRAYSON ARE AT the front table surrounded by pretty packages with pink and blue bows. They’re opening baby gifts from the family while the guests enjoy mini-desserts and watch. A small ache throbs from my chest as I observe them.

  Mom has her hands clasped, excited to see Ren’s reaction as Bethany Chesawit brings out Mom’s special-special gift. It’s not wrapped. It’s the Gucci diaper bag mom told me about, overflowing with smaller gifts.

  “Thank you, Mother Shaw!” Ren’s in tears and they’re hugging. Everyone’s abuzz with my mom’s generosity, good taste, and thoughtfulness. The bag is passed around and gushed over. It is nice.

  The next one’s in green paper with tiny umbrellas on it.

  “This one’s from . . . Ashlen,” Ren says, peeling back the paper. Delicately, she slides the item from its box. “Oh, it’s a bank.” It’s a silver turtle. “So cute, Ashlen. Thank you.”

  My head throws back. I removed that. Maybe Ashlen just liked it.

  Next up . . . another bank. This one’s a ceramic teddy bear. I know I didn’t scan that one. It’s not even cute.

  “Can never have too many,” Ren says with an oversized smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. With every gift, Ren’s smile becomes more fixed and forced.

  A low, uneasy groan escapes from my chest. I sneak a look at Aunt Greta. Her brows pull down, trying to read my expression. I mouth, I added gifts on her registry, but I removed them.

  “What?” She whispers back across the table.

  Ren opens another box . . . and pulls out . . . hangers. Plastic baby hangers? My stomach falls. For a flash Ren looks horrified. Then she smiles. Nope, she still looks horrified.

  My mind is desperately trying to make sense of that day. I remember deleting and scanning new items. I added beautiful designer crib sheets, tiny yellow and green neutral outfits, even a bassinet in deep cherry.

  “I know I fixed it,” I whisper-shout across the table to Aunt Greta. I’m shaking my head in disbelief.

  Aunt Greta’s mouthing, What? Her palms are up. She repeats the question, perplexed.

  We’re now mouthing an entire conversation back and forth across the table. I don’t understand what happened. Oh . . . oh, no. Shane is what happened. He showed up, and the Fossie’s lady chased us out. “Shane,” I mouth-whisper.

  She hides a laugh with a cough.

  I dash to Ren’s side and whisper in her ear, “I didn’t save. I accidentally added things, I was going to tell you, forgot to call, but then I fixed it, but I didn’t save. I’m so sorry, Ren. I’ll return everything. I swear. Don’t be mad.”

  Ren seems even more confused, but manages a lopsided smile as Grayson hands her the last box. Timidly, she peels back the muted yellow paper, glancing at me.

  “This one’s from me, Ren.” Aunt Greta’s right up front, camera aimed and ready.

  Ren pushes aside the tissue and peers in. Her face contorts between a smile and disgust.

  She lifts it out . . . oh!

  A click-flash from Aunt Greta’s camera blinds me.

  It’s the stuffed pig-monster in gaudy pink and green with buggy eyes. My gaping mouth is covered by both hands. Another click-flash from Aunt Greta as Ren’s eyes dart around and land back on the thing she’s holding.

  Ren looks to me then Aunt Greta . . . and laughs.

  Everyone does.

  “Don’t you dare return that,” Aunt Greta announces, stirring more laughter.

  The doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” I yell out, happy for the escape. Moving toward the house, the waiter from earlier spots me and takes three long steps over as I pass. My eyes narrow. Funny.

  Inside, I make my way to the front. Clasping the door handle, I swing it open. Shane? Confusion soars through me. He can’t be here. We talked about this. I need some time on my own. Quickly stepping out, I close the door. “What are you—”

  His index finger is pushed to his l
ips. My eyes fall to the large poster boards he’s holding.

  “Shane, you can’t—”

  Again, he shushes me. He’s flipped the boards over and . . . there’s writing. He flashes a shy smile and nods for me to read.

  Don’t say it’s carol singers . . .

  “What?” I whisper, confused. “Why would I—” Oh . . . I know what this is.

  This is Love Actually.

  He’s doing this now? Here? From the corner of my eye, I catch the front room curtains move. Someone’s looking out.

  Shane shuffles the boards and again has my full attention.

  It’s the scene with Juliet and Mark. Mark’s desperately in love with her, but Juliet’s not in love with him. So he stands at her door and proclaims his feelings in a series of signs. It was Christmas time in the movie and he told her to say carolers were at the door. My heart is skipping erratically as he holds up the next one.

  With any luck, by next year . . .

  In the movie, the sign after this one has photos of models on it and says I’ll be going out with one of these girls because Mark knows he can never have Juliet. Shane places a new sign in front. No photos. He’s not following the script. Good choice. I smile.

  Maybe this will be our party.

  Our party? As in an engagement party? My eyes flick to his. I’m on pins and needles. Tingles are zinging up and down my spine as Shane swaps cards. I squeeze my toes inside my shoes.

  And I will be invited in.

  A laugh explodes. Another card.

  But for now, let me just say . . .

  I’m biting my lip through a smile, anxiously waiting to see, eyes darting from his to the card.

  I love you, Kensington.

  I smile with my whole heart as I stare at his words.

  He loves me. Shane Bennett loves me.

  I’m swooning. I almost can’t breathe. Shane’s hand is up. He’s signaling hang on, there’s more. More? I’m on the edge. There’s nothing to hang on to. He flips to the next sign.

  I’d like a date.

  There’s a slight tilt to Shane’s head. A hopeful expression.

  Valentine’s Day. New York. I’ll be waiting at the top of the Empire State Building at dusk.

  In his eyes, I catch sight of the boy I once knew. A reckless boy with big ideas. Shane lowers the cards. It’s not the boy asking. It’s the man. The man he’s become.

  The man I love.

  I nod, smiling through tears.

  The door pulls open behind me. “Kensington?” It’s Dad.

  “What are . . . ?” Dad’s eyes rest on Shane, then me.

  The boards are quickly tucked under Shane’s arm. “Mr. Shaw, it’s nice to see you again, sir.” His hand is out.

  “Shane.” Dad slowly accepts with a firm shake. Another look from him to me. “Kensington, why don’t you go on in and see if Ren or your mother needs anything?”

  “Um . . .” My eyes move to Shane’s then back to Dad’s. “I, ah . . .”

  Dad lowers his chin. Okay. Backing up, I step through the door, eyes on Shane. Dad quickly pulls the door closed, shutting me out.

  Oh my God. What is he going to say? What should I do? I move to the front window and yes, there’s Ren behind the curtains, still holding the pig-monster. I knew someone was here.

  “Holy you-know-what, Kensington!” She steps to the side so I can slide in, then leans over my shoulder.

  We’re both completely inside the closed curtains. Only our feet can be seen from the living room. Outside, I watch my dad’s back and Shane’s head. Dad’s hands are gesturing as he talks, but I can’t hear him. All I hear is Ren in my ear.

  Her hands clasp her collarbone. “And those signs? That was so sweet, my God, it made me cry. We all knew—”

  “What?” Turning completely to look at her, the words just spit out. “You all knew what?” My pulse is in the danger zone.

  “Well, between Bradley constantly calling the house to talk with Grayson and Shane talking with your dad . . . and you know how Grayson and Dad talk.” She shrugs.

  Words escape me. I shake my head.

  The curtain flies open with a metallic whoosh from the friction of the rings on the curtain rod.

  We both jump. I’m clutching my heart.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” It’s Ashlen.

  Ren and I exchange quick knowing looks. Ashlen has a big mouth.

  “Nothing. Girl chat,” Ren says, stepping out, the pig-monster tucked under her arm. “We were just about to go sit down. Right, Kensington?”

  My eyes dart back outside. Dad’s hands are in his pockets, Shane’s head’s moving.

  Ashlen grabs my arm and we start to walk. “Great. I switched seats so I’m sitting by you guys. Liza was annoying me. She thought Bradley was British. What a spazz . . .”

  I’ve tuned her out. Shane loves me. Dad’s with Shane. Ren’s being cool. My whole family knew what’s been going on. Maybe not specifics, but . . .

  The door opens. My heart stops. Shane’s still here. Ashlen looks from Shane back to me and Ren, a curious smile on her face.

  “Ren, Ashlen, why don’t you two go on out back,” my dad says. It’s not a suggestion. “Shane, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of you in the future? We get together once a month for Sunday brunch. We’d love to have you.”

  “I hope so, and that would be wonderful, thank you, sir.” They shake hands again and Dad gives me a wink as he heads toward the back.

  He winked? “Um, I’ll be right in,” I call out, walking toward Shane.

  We stop halfway down the front walk, and he takes my hand.

  “What did you say to my dad?”

  Shane smiles. “I informed him of my intentions toward his daughter, and that, although I’d prefer their support and blessing, this time around, I only need yours.”

  A sappy smile forms on my face. Dad invited him over. Shane loves me. We’re going to meet on Valentine’s Day.

  There’s a sputter then a wet blast.

  I scream.

  Within seconds, we’re drenched. Trying to absorb the shock of the cold water, Shane and I look at each other and laugh.

  Dad had the Super 3000 sprinkler system installed last spring. It blasts bursts of water up and out in record time. Mom must have forgotten to shut off the front timers.

  Dropping the signs, he tugs me close and wraps me in his arms. “Guess we got our Bridget Jones after all.”

  “I may have done that one all by myself,” I say with a giggle.

  Shane pulls me close for a kiss. I lean up on my toes, my hands claiming his cheeks as I accept his wet lips with mine. The stubble on his jaw scratches under my fingertips. Relaxing deeper into his hold, I slowly slide down to stand on solid ground, lean back, and deliver Bridget’s line complete with accent.

  “Wait a minute. Nice boys don’t kiss like that.”

  He gives a throaty laugh. “Oh, yes they . . .” He doesn’t get to finish his words. They’re captured by my lips. I am a happiness time bomb. I may burst into a spray of happiness confetti, adding to the water jets. Poof. There’ll be nothing left of me.

  I can hear my mom yelling for Ren to shut off the system, and pulling back, I see my family watching us from the doorway. Aunt Greta and Ashlen are laughing. Dad’s smiling. Mom looks tense. She’s probably worried about what people must think. Grayson’s hugging Ren, and she’s waving the pig-monster’s paw. Rolly’s behind everyone, giving excited thumbs up.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. I’ve hit the jackpot! Team Kenzi: No longer needs to count.

  I smile at Shane. His hair’s curled in wet rings around his face. Drops of water are beaded in the scruff along his jaw. Flecks of gold gaze down at me and warm my heart. He wraps me tightly in his arms and lifts me for another kiss.

  Only one moment’s left on our Love Like the Movies list. It circles ’round to where we started.

  But it’s not the end.

  Because life isn’t a movie.

&
nbsp; It’s better, actually.

  EPILOGUE

  When Shane Met Kenzi

  I’M NOT GREAT ON planes. But I’m watching Sleepless in Seattle on my tablet to steady my nerves and pass the time. It’s the scene where Meg Ryan’s character, Annie, is watching An Affair to Remember and Becky, Annie’s friend, says my favorite line: You don’t want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie.

  She asks Annie to read the letter she’s writing to Sam, and it’s Becky who suggests they meet at the top of the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day. It’s also Becky who sends the letter.

  Ellie was helping Shane the whole time. And she helped me schedule my trip to meet Shane in New York. I think she’s as excited as I am. Because just like Becky, she wants what we all want, magic.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” says a voice over the loudspeaker. The seat belt sign lights, we’re asked to switch off all electronics and remain seated until we land.

  I check my buckle and get my things situated. My ears pop as we make our descent. Out the window the sun’s already settled low in the sky, creating a dusty haze like a blanket over the New York City skyline. I lean on the glass and watch Manhattan take shape. I’ve never been here. So many buildings, they seem to go on forever.

  Three months have passed since Shane stood on my parents’ porch and said he loved me. Not one phone call, Facebook chat, or e-mail since. Nothing. Of course, that’s what I asked for. Space to get myself situated, but . . .

  What if he’s changed his mind?

  We were supposed to meet at dusk on Valentine’s Day, just like in the original movie, but just like in the movie, I’m late. My plane was delayed for two hours due to weather in Indy.

  I can’t wait to tell him what’s been going on. Besides my dad’s graphic design work, I’ve added two small businesses to my client list. Shane’s under contract with Safia for the Carriage House, and Clive asked me to finish as a contract hire, so I did. I’m hopeful I’ll still get to do the murals.

  Four of my paintings are on display in a local gallery and two have recently sold. One was of a little girl that inspired me in the park and the other was the view from Shane’s cottage window. Rolling hills of sun-kissed tan and yellow as far as you can see.