“Seriously, you’ve probably lost like a hundred pounds,” Lexi said. “Have you weighed yourself?”
“No,” Brooke admitted. “I hate the stupid scale. Anyway, I ran five miles yesterday. Five miles, can you believe it? That’s like from here to Braemar Country Club. These are Jules’s sweatpants.” Brooke beamed with pride when she pointed this out. The pants were skintight, but she’d gotten them on without even busting any of the seams, as far as Lexi could see.
“Well, that’s one hurdle we can almost scratch off the list,” Lexi said, tugging on a boxer’s leash to slow him down. “Any hot dating prospects? We’re getting down to the wire here, you know.” Lexi still couldn’t believe that she was the single success story among her sisters so far. It felt so good not to be the fuckup that she was more determined than ever to prove herself at the shop. Benji had forgiven her little trespassing episode and even thanked her for the courtesy of apologizing directly. Lexi was sure it was because he was Rob’s family and friend, but still she had promised him it would never, ever happen again. In a show of forgiveness and confidence, he’d given her free rein to hire and train two new employees, and she couldn’t be happier with her choices. Amanda and Jordan were both college students with far more impressive résumés than Lexi had, yet they both seemed to admire and respect her. The high she got from that was better than any drug she’d ever snorted, smoked or jabbed into a hungry vein. She almost couldn’t believe it herself.
“Well, I sort of did meet someone, but it probably won’t work out,” Brooke said.
“Why would you say that?” Lexi demanded. “You’re turning into a pretty hot piece of ass over there. Don’t sell yourself short. Hey, can we turn around? Rob’s coming by at five. We’re going to go grab a burger. Want to come with us? They have salads where we’re going, too. My treat.” The truth was, she had no idea where they were going, but lots of places had burgers and salads. It wasn’t technically a lie.
“Me? Really? You want me to come on your date with Rob? And you want to pay for me?” Brooke looked as if Lexi had suggested they film themselves having a three-way or something.
“Frank might come, too, but whatever, if you have other plans just forget it,” Lexi said. She knew Brooke would think she was throwing up her protective shell like a shield, but she had different reasons for wanting to play it cool.
“No, I’ll go, I’d love to go,” Brooke insisted. She’d glossed right over the Frank part, just as Lexi had hoped she would.
“Well, then pick up your pace there, runner girl. They’ll be at the house in less than an hour,” Lexi said.
“Oh, okay,” Brooke said, pumping her free arm vigorously. “What should I wear? I don’t have much that fits me right now.”
“What about that hot little black dress I saw you slink in wearing the other night?” Lexi said, trying to sound casual. Brooke really did look like a million bucks in that thing; Lexi almost hadn’t recognized her. “And maybe some of your new makeup? You know, since you have it and everything.”
“Isn’t that dress a little fancy for grabbing a burger?” Brooke asked.
“Nah, wear it with flip-flops and it’ll be perfect,” Lexi insisted. She wondered if Rob had told Frank about the setup or if he was playing it the same way she was. At the thought of her might-be boyfriend, Lexi’s stomach turned a tiny somersault. A thousand times a day she wanted to pinch herself to make sure she was really awake and not imagining that she’d met a sweet, hot cop who seemed to adore her. One she’d been intimate with in the truest sense of the word, and in a way she’d never known was possible. Lexi almost understood now why people used that awful, clichéd, cloying phrase: making love. Oh, she’d never in a million years use it herself, and she still didn’t even like admitting it, but when she was with Rob, that’s exactly what it felt like. She’d opened herself up to him and let him see the parts of her she’d kept hidden from, well, everyone. They were as close as two people could be, with one exception: She still hadn’t told Rob about her mother’s money. Lexi was pretty sure he liked her for who she was, but she also didn’t want the fact that she was an almost-millionaire to taint his opinion of her, for better or for worse. As long as she was just little Lexi-the-imp-turned-shopgirl, she would never have to question his motives or affection. Sure, those days were definitely numbered, but she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.
Jules
Jules’s finger ached from hitting the Refresh button on her computer. It had been exactly seven days and she hadn’t heard a peep from Derek Stanford about her query. She cursed the person who invented email in the first place. If she’d snail-mailed that thing, she damn well would have paid the buck extra for a return receipt. Now she was left to torture herself, wondering whether he never got it at all or got it and just plain hated it. Jules knew that the path to a published book was paved with rejection letters, and that she’d be best off casting the widest net possible. She told herself that was exactly what she would do, just as soon as she had Mr. Stanford’s feedback, good or bad. Or in a week. Whichever came first.
The clock was definitely ticking—in more ways than one. Brooke still hadn’t gone on a single date, and it wasn’t like Jules could go out and meet eligible men on her sister’s behalf. Part of the problem was that every spare minute Brooke had these days she spent running. Jules was beyond proud of her sister’s dedication and determination, but enough was enough. It was time to ramp up Project Billy.
Jules hadn’t responded to his last note yet, because both of her sisters never seemed to be gone at the same time, and she needed to be stealthy. But now she had a window, so she logged in to Facebook as Brooke. She felt terrible each time she did, but she tried to convince herself that the cause justified the crime. She knew that if she overthought it she’d chicken out, so she dashed off a quick note:
Hey, Billy . . . Just wondering if you might like to come out to California for a visit. Would be so great to see you again in person. Let me know if you have any travel plans that might bring you this way . . . XOXO
Well, it was technically all true; it would be great to see Billy. She hit Send before she could change her mind, congratulating herself on the XOXO at the end. She certainly wasn’t the hugs-and-kisses type herself, but she thought it was probably something Brooke would do.
That much accomplished, Jules paced around the empty house, marveling at how alone she felt when her sisters were gone. When had that happened? She had felt anxious and claustrophobic when they’d first moved in, and yearned to have her space to herself again. Jules liked things the way she liked them: the pillows plumped, the dishes washed and put away, the afghan on the back of the couch folded just so. At first, the chaos and disarray that came with her siblings had driven her nuts, and she’d found herself biting her tongue a hundred times a day to keep from mentioning this dirty coffee mug or that pair of mislaid shoes. But now, with Lexi and Brooke out walking the dogs and Shawn off at work, the silence was almost deafening to her. She needed to get out of the house.
She left a note on the counter—Going to run some errands, back in a bit!—and grabbed her keys and her phone. She drove aimlessly and without even thinking, so even Jules was surprised when she found herself smack in front of the Garden Villas apartment complex. She hadn’t driven to this part of town since she’d come back to clean out her mother’s things, and a wave of sadness hit her by surprise. It wasn’t that she missed Juliana, exactly; her regular visits had been painful and strained, and more often than not she’d barely make it to her car before she broke down in tears afterward. The sadness she felt now was more for Juliana than about her. Jules tried to imagine her future family, happy and whole, and then Shawn suddenly being taken away from them. Would she become a totally different person the way Juliana had? Would she turn controlling and bitter and angry and emotionally abandon her children, Shawn’s children? Jules desperately wanted to believe that she wouldn’t. But how coul
d she be certain?
Jules was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see Judith Steinman until her face was inches from her own, separated only by the front windshield. Jules let out a terrified squeak. Mrs. Steinman laughed and motioned for Jules to roll down her window.
“Julia! Shabbat Shalom! Did you have that baby yet? Is he with you? What’s his name? Roll down that window and let me get a peek! I can’t stand the suspense!”
Jules was flustered for a split second and then she remembered her encounter with Rita Berkovitz at Motherhood Maternity. Obviously Mrs. Berkovitz had ignored her request to keep her fake pregnancy under wraps and had told the entire complex the joyous news. What was she going to do now? Judith was frantically motioning at the window, so Jules lowered the glass and tried to wipe the guilty expression from her face.
“Hi, Mrs. Steinman,” she said. Children addressing their elders by their first names had been one of Juliana’s big “things,” of which there were many. At almost thirty-three, Jules felt she’d earned the right to be on a first-name basis with other adults; at the same time, she couldn’t imagine calling this woman Judith, ever.
“Where is he? I don’t see him in there. Is he with a babysitter? Or that handsome husband of yours? Back in my day we’d never have dreamed of leaving the babies alone with the fathers, but you kids are much more progressive than we were. I even know a lady whose son married another man and they adopted a baby together. Can you imagine? Two men raising a baby? Wait, wasn’t that a movie?” Mrs. Steinman chatted a mile a minute as she craned her neck trying to see into the backseat. When that proved fruitless, she bent over and pressed her face to the back window of the Honda, cupping her hands around her plump cheeks for a better look. She straightened back up and looked at Jules, confused. Jules had to stifle a laugh; the woman was obsessed with an imaginary baby—one that she’d predetermined was a boy, no less.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Steinman, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jules said sweetly. She felt bad throwing Mrs. Berkovitz under the bus, but the woman had said she’d keep her lips zipped. Turnabout was fair play, even if it meant adding fuel to the biggest fire the Garden Villas would likely ever see.
“But Rita said . . . I mean, I thought I heard . . . I guess I was mistaken . . .” Mrs. Steinman’s face was beet-red, although Jules couldn’t be sure if it was from anger, embarrassment or exertion. Probably a combination of all three. She was too flustered to even ask Jules why she was sitting in the shade of one of the giant magnolia trees that flanked the Garden Villas sign, her car engine still running.
“Well, don’t tell anyone,” Jules said conspiratorially. “But we’re trying.”
At this secret revelation—or perhaps the thought of passionate, baby-making sex—Mrs. Steinman brightened considerably.
“Mum’s the word,” she said, pressing her finger to her lips. “B’sha’ah tovah.”
“I’m sorry?” Jules said.
“When the time is right, my dear,” Mrs. Steinman explained.
“Right, well, I’d better be going,” Jules told her. “Will you say hello to Mrs. Berkovitz for me? She’s such a dear woman.”
Mrs. Steinman’s face flushed again at the sound of her nemesis’s name. Jules waved as she drove away, trying to imagine the catfight that was about to go down at what she was pretty sure was the old-lady Melrose Place of the Valley.
Brooke
Brooke shuffled out of the bathroom in the black dress and flip-flops with a smirk on her face, her arms dangling limply by her sides.
“I look ridiculous wearing this dress to go out for a burger,” she told Lexi.
“No, you look ridiculous when you walk like a sad, pathetic duck whose ankles are tied together,” Lexi said. “The dress looks great.”
“Are you wearing that?” Brooke asked, pointing at Lexi’s jeans and plain white T-shirt. It was the most basic outfit ever created or even conceived—what a construction worker would wear on the job or a soccer mom would sport to her kid’s game—and yet on Lexi the combo looked like haute couture, the picture of casual chicness. Brooke thought her baby sister couldn’t possibly look more beautiful in an evening gown.
“You want me to change?” Lexi asked with what Brooke considered uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.
“Sort of,” Brooke admitted. “But nothing too . . . fancy or sexy. Just something a little dressier so I don’t look so stupid. Would you mind?”
“You should really ask Jules since I’ll be borrowing something of hers,” Lexi said, sauntering toward Jules and Shawn’s bedroom. Brooke followed her, curious to see what she’d choose and envious that no matter what it was, she’d undoubtedly look like a supermodel in it.
Lexi gently pried a few hangers apart, careful not to crush or wrinkle any of the surrounding clothes as she did. Brooke marveled at the change in Lexi. Seven months ago her reckless little sister wouldn’t have noticed—or cared—if she knocked half of Jules’s things to the floor in her hunt to find something she deemed suitable to wear. Brooke smiled but said nothing.
“This okay?” Lexi asked, holding up a heather-gray T-shirt dress. It was slouchy and had a high neck and it wasn’t even short.
“Are you serious?” Brooke asked. “You’d wear that for me?”
“What do I care?” Lexi said, pulling her T-shirt over her head without an ounce of self-consciousness and replacing it with the dress. She still looked stunning, but at least Brooke wouldn’t feel like a pig in a wig next to her.
“Thanks, Alexis,” Brooke said sheepishly. She wanted to say something more, but she was still apprehensive around Lexi. She couldn’t help it; she’d bared her heart to her sister and gotten battery acid poured on it in return too many times not to be.
“I didn’t do anything,” Lexi insisted, brushing off the gesture. “I changed my clothes. No big deal. Oh, I think they’re here.” Her face lit up when she said this, and when it did, Brooke realized that this was what love looked like. She ached to feel what Lexi was feeling.
“Put on some makeup,” Lexi whispered as she hustled out the door. “I mean, if you want to!”
Brooke dutifully took out her makeup bag and heard Lexi invite Rob and Frank into the living room.
“You clean up pretty well,” Rob was saying to Lexi. Even her sister’s laugh was beautiful. Sometimes life really wasn’t fair.
Brooke drew a faint line of purple across each eyelid and smudged it with her finger. The lady at the Shameless counter in Macy’s had told her this would really bring out the green in her hazel eyes, and Brooke had to admit she was right. She added some pale sparkly gloss to her lips and fluffed her naturally wavy hair with her fingers.
Not half bad, she thought, smiling at her reflection and secretly wishing it was George Kaplan waiting for her in the living room. Even thinking George’s name made her feel light-headed, and she regretted the slip. Their meeting at The Plow and Kettle had been bordering on magical, if you didn’t count the part where he kept calling her Jules and she kept going along with it. The evening had ended with him saying he’d be sharing her manuscript with some colleagues while he was waiting for the paperwork to be processed, and promising to be in touch. He’d warned her it could take a few weeks, and she’d been thinking about him nonstop since then.
He thinks you’re someone else, she scolded herself now. Not exactly the best way to kick off a relationship. Let that one go. You blew it. It’s time to try to meet another guy. Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting tonight even. Stranger things have happened. She squared her shoulders and flipped off the light.
“Hey, Rob; hey, Frank,” she said, sweeping into the living room and wondering why Frank looked all fidgety.
“Hi, Brooke,” Rob said. He gave Frank a not-so-gentle nudge.
“Oh, right, yeah, hi,” Frank stammered. Brooke gave them each a friendly peck on the cheek. The guys often stoppe
d by during their patrols, so they’d made plenty of polite small talk before. Both Frank and Rob were so sweet and easygoing, and Brooke liked to think of them as the brothers she never had. Maybe Rob would even be her brother-in-law someday. Brooke sure hoped she’d have a date to bring to the wedding.
“You lovely ladies ready to go?” Rob asked, slinging his arm around Lexi’s shoulder. Brooke was waiting for one of her sister’s famous replies, like, Does a bear shit in the woods? but Lexi just nodded demurely, so Brooke did the same.
“So where are we going?” Brooke asked as they walked out to Frank’s gigantic Ford truck.
“Where would you like to go?” Frank asked her.
Brooke turned and raised her eyebrows at Lexi. “I thought you guys had some burger joint in mind,” she said. Was this some sort of setup or something?
“Oh, right, Rob and I were talking about going to Roger’s,” Lexi said. “I guess Frank didn’t get the memo.”
“Roger’s sound okay to you, Brooke?” Frank asked politely.
“Sure, I’m easy,” Brooke said. Then she blushed furiously at the innuendo. Even if this was a setup, she certainly had no intention of putting out. It had been ages, and Brooke didn’t care about that whole like-riding-a-bicycle thing. She didn’t even know Frank’s last name! No, she was definitely not getting naked with Frank tonight.
Lexi
Lexi was so proud of herself she wanted to pound her chest while swinging from a chandelier. To say that Brooke and Frank had really hit it off would be an understatement, unless Brooke had actually gone home with him after dinner to help him write some lame-ass report like they claimed. She’d seen the sparks flying between them, she was sure of it. Besides, Brooke taught preschool, not college English. Her students didn’t even know how to write their names! Lexi would bet her last push-up bra that her sister was riding that pig like a rodeo queen right now and not drafting up a rap sheet on some drug dealer or gangbanger. The thought made her beam in the darkness.
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