The Newport Ladies Book Club: Daisy

by Kilpack, Josi S.

  © 2012 Josi S. Kilpack.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Deseret Book Company, P.O. Box 30178, Salt Lake City Utah 30178. This work is not an official publication of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of the Church or of Deseret Book. Deseret Book is a registered trademark of Deseret Book Company.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit us at DeseretBook.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Kilpack, Josi S., author.

  Daisy / Josi S. Kilpack.

  pages cm — (Newport Ladies Book Club series)

  ISBN 978-1-60907-008-3 (paperbound)

  1. Mothers—Fiction. 2. Pregnancy—Fiction. 3. Man-woman relationships—Fiction. 4. Book clubs (Discussion groups)—Fiction. 5. Christian fiction. 6. Domestic fiction, American. I. Title. II. Series: Newport Ladies Book Club series ; book 2.

  PS3561.I412D35 2012

  813'.54—dc23 2012001625

  Printed in the United States of America

  Lake Book Manufacturing, Inc., Melrose Park, IL

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To Annette, Heather, and Julie—

  dear friends who were so excited and supportive

  about taking this journey with me.

  It’s a thrill and a privilege to be loved

  by such inspiring women.

  I love you gals.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Paige: Coming September 2012

  About the Author

  Other books by Josi S. Kilpack

  Acknowledgments

  In the fall of 2009, Julie Wright and I went on a book tour for our newest releases. We talked almost nonstop for two full weeks. It was so much fun, and among the many things we discussed, I brought up the idea of writing a parallel book series where each book would cover the same period of time but be told from a different character’s perspective. We brainstormed and in the process got really excited. We had both worked closely with two other amazing women—Annette Lyon and Heather Moore—and thought they would make the perfect partners for this project. We pitched the idea to them and they were all in. A few months later we pitched the idea to our publishers, but since I published with Deseret Book/Shadow Mountain and they published with Covenant Communications, it took some time to work out the bugs. Eventually, we made it work, and we were off and running.

  This project would never have happened without the support of both of our publishers, and I am especially grateful to the team at Deseret Book—Jana Erickson, who spearheaded the process at Deseret Book, Lisa Mangum, who made the story bright and shiny, Rachael Ward for another wonderful typesetting job, and Shauna Gibby, who worked closely with Covenant to design the cover. I could not be happier with the way everything worked out, and I so appreciate everyone’s flexibility and support.

  Of course, this series couldn’t have happened without the incredible support of Annette, Heather, and Julie. To say we had fun writing this series is a vast understatement. We had a blast, shared a few tears, took our critiques, and, I believe, are all better for having journeyed through this process. Thank you, ladies, for being such wonderful friends. The greatest blessing of my writing career has been the wonderful people I have met because of it.

  I wrote Daisy while working on two other projects for Shadow Mountain, which upped my already hectic home life to critical levels at times. And yet my wonderful husband and children continued to cheer me on and encouraged me to keep going. Thank you guys so much for being so very good to me. I love you, love you, love you.

  At the 2010 Whitney Award gala, Susan Evans McCloud was awarded the 2010 Lifetime Achievement Award. During her speech, she said, “Our Father in Heaven loves His daughters.” I know that is true, and as I navigated Daisy’s life, which is so different from my own, I felt that confirmation over and over again. God does love His daughters, and He is waiting for us to fall into His embrace and let Him show us what He sees when He looks upon us. Regardless of our faith, past mistakes, present trials, and heavy disenchantments, God loves His daughters. I am so grateful for my understanding of this truth, and I hope that in some way this story will help those women reading it understand how much He loves you.

  Other books in this series:

  Olivia—Julie Wright

  Paige—Annette Lyon

  Athena—Heather B. Moore

  For ideas on hosting your own book club, suggestions for books and recipes, or information on how you can guest-write about your book club on our blog, please visit us at http://thenewportladiesbookclub.blogspot.com.

  Chapter 1

  “Would it kill you to take a day off, Daisy?” Paul asked over the phone.

  “Yes,” I said, glad he couldn’t see my smile so the game would play out a little longer. “It just might.”

  Paul laughed, a laugh that was too high-pitched for a man of forty-four. When we first started dating six years ago, I’d found it annoying and knew I would never be able to marry a man who laughed like a teenage girl. Somewhere between that first date and a marriage proposal—complete with swans, if you can believe it—I came to love that laugh and a hundred other things that made Paul a husband-extraordinaire.

  “You know I can’t take time off at the end of the month—too many policy renewals,” I said.

  Commercial insurance policies tend to renew annually on the first day of the month, meaning that my clients bombard me with questions a week before they’re supposed to re-up for another year, even though I’ve been reminding them for the last sixty days.

  “The thirtieth is a Saturday,” Paul said. “We can leave Friday afternoon after you finish your renewals and you can take Monday off. It won’t set you back too far. Come on,” he prodded. “You know you want to.”

  “You are so bad for me,” I said, lowering my voice seductively. Meanwhile I flipped forward through my planner almost a month to check the dates for this romantic escapade. I had a ten o’clock meeting on Monday, November first, but I was pretty sure I could reschedule it. My hopes were rising as I flipped back a page to make sure I’d properly evaluated the weekend.

  “Shoot,” I said, scowling at October thirty-first. “Sunday is Hallowee
n.” It was part of the unspoken code of parenting ethics that you had to be around for any and all holidays—even pointless ones I swore were instituted by the American Dental Association and Mars Candy, Inc., as a means of job security. My next thought, however, surprised me: Did I have to be there? Stormy was in her final year of high school and with ten years between her and her older sister, December—who was about to make me a grandma at the age of forty-six—I’d been doing the Halloween thing for a very long time. Couldn’t I take one off?

  “Maybe Stormy could stay with Jared,” I said, feeling my excitement build at the thought of a weekend away. Stormy didn’t spend many weekends with her dad since she had things going on with her friends most of the time, but Jared was there. It was perhaps the only perk of having my ex-husband live just half an hour away.

  “Your call, Mama,” Paul said.

  I scowled. He knew I hated it when he called me that. It always made me defensive of the many things I was, motherhood being only one of them. Paul, on the other hand, claimed to find my maternal aspects sexy, and I took that at face value. His fifteen-year-old daughter, Mason, lived in San Diego and found it hard to come up on the weekends now that she was in high school. She came for a couple of weeks each summer and on alternating holidays, but I knew Paul missed her.

  I bit my lip and stared at the page in my planner. “I’ll talk to Stormy about it,” I said, hoping it would be an argument I could win. I flipped back to “Today” in my planner and wrote a note to myself.

  Stormy—Halloween w/Jared?

  Then I leaned my elbow on my desk and rested my head in my hand as I continued the sweet talk with my sweetie. “So where are you taking me, Romeo?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Romeo said.

  “Not even a hint?” I pushed. It was Paul’s year to plan our anniversary celebration, and I felt a thrill run through me at the possibilities. Say what you will about second marriages, but so far mine had been a wonderful ride. Maybe it was because both of us wanted to make sure this one worked, or maybe we were both grown-ups now and knew how to make better choices in a mate, or maybe we had a better idea of our future and could plan it out exactly as we wanted it to be. Whatever the reason, Paul was the sugar in my coffee, the tread on my tire, or, as he liked to say every time he brought me flowers, the Shasta to my Daisy.

  “I’ll give you a clue: bring your bikini.”

  “Nice one,” I said, narrowing my eyes. Bikinis don’t come in a size fourteen, but I had a very flattering one-piece with control panels in all the right places. “I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes.”

  “Because I pay the mortgage,” Paul said.

  It was an offhand comment, but it pinged in my chest and I responded without thinking about it. “Careful, sailor, or you’re on the next boat out of here.”

  That fell even flatter, and we both went quiet, having sufficiently stepped on one another’s toes rather harshly. We could banter and tease all we wanted, but Paul’s wife had left him without warning ten years ago, so jokes about me leaving were never funny. I wondered why I’d said it. But his comments implying that I couldn’t take care of myself were equally difficult for me to take in stride. Did I say second marriages were perfect?

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I’d better go. But the weekend sounds like fun. I’ll talk to Stormy about it tonight and then give Jared a call. I’m sure it’ll be a go, though; he totally owes me for Labor Day.” He’d had to cancel that weekend with Stormy. He said he had a last-minute business trip, but I suspected he’d taken his newest girlfriend to New York for the opening of a Broadway play he’d told Stormy about the week before. Jared had been a theater major in college; it was probably how he’d tricked me into marrying him—he acted the part of faithful suitor. What a joke.

  “Right,” Paul said, also trying to recover from the awkward moment. “She’s got that Shakespeare thing at school tonight, right?”

  I groaned. “That’s right,” I said, looking at my planner again. I hadn’t written it in. Instead, I had a list of errands I was hoping to do on the way home: Stop by the hair salon to pick up another bottle of my favorite shampoo—Stormy had left the other bottle at the pool on Saturday—swing by the library for a new novel, and then hit the grocery store for some more Lean Cuisines; I had brought my last one to work today for lunch. “Um, is there any way you could go solo so I can run some errands?”

  “But Jared’s going, right?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “Daisy.”

  The reprimand in his voice caused me to let out my breath in a huff. Paul and Jared did okay together, but Paul was always anxious about seeming as though he was overstepping his boundaries as stepdad when dad-dad was around.

  “Okay, okay. Don’t worry about it.” I tried not to sound as annoyed as I felt. After working all day I just wanted to run my errands and go home, not sit through a high school drama performance where my daughter probably had three lines. “I’ll try to leave a little early and get my stuff done before it starts.”

  My stuff, I thought after I hung up and looked at my list again, a familiar frustration rising in my chest. I yearned for my stuff, my time, my schedule. After so many years of putting me after their stuff, their time, their schedules, my patience was wearing thin. Of course, Paul was different. He was a grown man and he was wonderful about giving me my space. My girls? Not so much. I was their mother; I was supposed to put them first, but that didn’t mean I didn’t long to just do my own thing. I’d been so young when I first became a mother—barely seventeen—and I felt like I’d been trying to catch up with the role ever since. Now the end was in sight. If it made me a bad mom to look forward to being done with this phase of my life, well, so be it. I’d given so much for so long.

  I pushed my planner to the side of my desk and opened up my e-mail folder; my break was officially over. I glanced at the clock—it was almost two. If I kept a steady pace, I should be able to leave the office by four thirty. That would give me time to get the shampoo and the microwave meals. I could go to the library tomorrow.

  Eight more months, I reminded myself. That’s how much longer I had before Stormy graduated from high school. She was already planning to live with Jared for the summer and then go to California State—applications were due in November. Once she was up and out, I could go away on the weekends any time I wanted to. Paul and I planned to buy a trailer and hit the open road. My office was getting closer and closer to telecommuting options all the time, so I could still work part-time. We wanted to trace the Oregon Trail, then visit the thirteen original colonies. There was so much we wanted to do, and we were so close to having the green light to do it.

  For now, however, I was sentenced to high school plays, budget-busting prom dresses that were worn once, and overseeing homework.

  “Eight more months,” I said one last time before getting back to work.

  Chapter 2

  My alarm went off at 5:45 in the morning. One would think that in all the years of getting up early to help the girls get off to school, I’d be used to being up before the sun. I wasn’t. Paul slept through the alarm, as usual, and I glared at him in envy as I got out of bed, as usual, grabbed my robe off the hook by the bathroom door, and headed into the hallway, as usual. It’s not that I expected him to get up; I was just jealous he got to sleep in every morning and I didn’t.

  I turned on the hallway light, which caused me to squint, and knocked twice on Stormy’s door before turning the knob and pushing it open. A pie-shaped field of light fell across Stormy’s bed. I waited to hear her moving around, but after six seconds, I heard nothing.

  “Don’t make me turn on the lights,” I warned. She knew from experience that wasn’t an idle threat. I’d once resorted to a spray bottle with December—it had happened only once, though. My kids were quick learners.

  “Okay,” she said from the dark recesses of her cave. It sounded more like “Oooayyyy,” but after all these years, I was fluent in g
roggy teenager.

  Satisfied she was awake, I headed into the kitchen and, like a train on the track, began my daily routine. Start the coffee, switch the laundry I’d put in last night, empty the dishwasher, feed the stupid cat Jared had given Stormy without consulting me, check the home calendar, update my planner, remind Stormy to hurry, and then—once she was eating and I was assured we were on time—take a shower.

  I only washed my hair every other day and today wasn’t one of them, so after I got out of the shower I put my golden-blonde locks in hot rollers that would achieve the big loose curls I loved and got dressed. Most women my age had given up any hairstyle that went past their shoulders, which might have been why I was determined to keep my hair long. It had always been thick, and I conditioned and colored it religiously to keep it in tip-top shape. So far, so good. While Stormy did her last-minute primping, I folded the laundry and cleaned the kitchen. I had this down to a science.