“Gran likes them.” The first step is admitting you have a problem, Diana.
Ophelia was kind enough to nod. “I’ll get straight to the point. You’re a writer, Betty tells me.”
“Well, not really. I mean, I haven’t written anything for a while. Gran just likes to brag.”
“Don’t have you have a degree in journalism?”
“Well, yes…” Not that she wanted to be reminded. Diana had that, plus a great pile of student debt for that ill-timed MFA in creative writing. Her father had reluctantly helped to pay for her college education but he had refused to entertain the idea of a masters in, of all things, writing. There’s no money in that, Diana. End of subject.
“I have a job for you,” Ophelia announced, hands clasped as if she’d just announced the start of the World Peace talks. “You heard we’re doing a firefighter calendar?”
“I saw that.” Diana tried to push the image of half-naked Scott out of her mind, but it kept coming. And coming. “Looks…interesting.”
“It’s for a great cause. I envision our firefighters each holding a glass of wine from one of our town’s vineyards. That way we honor our heroes, raise money for a charity and we also do a little promoting for our crops.” She leaned back in her seat and smiled.
Diana pictured a shirtless Scott holding a glass of wine. “Sounds brilliant,” she said, fanning herself. “A different kind of approach. I don’t think I’ve seen that.”
“Now all I need is someone to write a glowing piece for the website. That’s where you come in.”
“What kind of piece?”
“I could leave that up to you. Maybe tell some of the firefighters’ stories? Mr. September and Mr. December are both ex-military. They might not talk about that, of course, but it would be worth interviewing them. Of course, I reserve final say in approving the article. We’ll publish it on our award winning website. The gal who usually writes these fluff pieces is on maternity leave.”
Mr. September and Mr. December? Had she died and gone to heaven?
She hadn’t written a word in months, stuck in some kind of writer hell. But this was a job, if only temporary and she needed one. It was either this or shampoo girl. The crossing guard job was already taken.
“I would have to get paid.” Her last word unfortunately held a slight lilt to it, almost like a question.
“Of course. I can get you a stipend from our slush fund. We can work something out and I’ll be fair.”
Whether or not she could or ever would write another word, she should at least try. Or rather, try some more. Under the pressure of a deadline. Diana swallowed and wondered if Ophelia would think it a big fat lie to say that she had wicked carpal tunnel and was going to have to say ‘hell no’.
Before she could, Ophelia stood up. “Get it to me by the end of the month. Sound good?”
Oh God, a deadline. There was no air in this little office and Diana’s skin started to prickle and sting. “Um.”
Ophelia apparently mistook Diana’s shaking for a nod. “You’ll come to the photo shoot next week? One PM at Brooke’s Vineyard.”
In and out, in and out. Amazing, but Diana was still breathing. Breathing could be simple so long as she didn’t overthink it. Unfortunately, in the next second she had already over-thought it, because now she was hyperventilating. Too much breathing. Too much.
She’d just signed up to write under a deadline, something she hadn’t done since … she broke up with Bradley.
Chapter 5
Scott was in relative hell again.
The entire family was having their weekly dinner at Mom’s and as usual it seemed that his state of bachelorhood was of enormous distress to everyone but him. Gen had just announced she wanted to fix him up again. She had the perfect date for him. Diana.
“She’s beautiful, too. I mean, don’t you think?” Gen directed the question to him.
“Yeah,” Scott said.
“And he’s already seen her half naked, so he’s had a chance to check out the goods.” This was from Billy.
“Billy!”
“Son!”
“Dude!”
Brooke, Pop and Wallace all simultaneously protested Billy’s keen observation. Scott smirked. When his brother was right, he was right. Why pretend he hadn’t noticed?
Giancarlo, Mom’s new husband— wise man that he was, remained quiet. But so did his daughter Sophia, and that didn’t seem natural. She always had something to add to their mix, and it was funny much of the time. Scott raised an eyebrow in her direction, and she barely seemed to notice. Scott had been worried about her for a while, noticing that in the past few weeks she’d seemed to check out of most family functions. When she’d come back from University this time around, she didn’t have interesting stories to share about the Berkeley campus where there was a daily cause.
“She’s not interested in me. Good effort but no. I’ll find my own dates, thanks,” Scott reminded everyone for the gazillionth time and tried to meet Sophia’s eyes. She was always good for an eye-roll or two. At the moment, she seemed to be extremely interested in her fork.
“Why wouldn’t she be interested in you?” Mom asked. “Is there something wrong with her?”
“Thanks, Ma, but not everyone finds me as perfect as you do.”
“I know what it is. He probably did something to her. What did you do?” Brooke asked.
“Must have, but I don’t even remember what.”
“Classic,” Billy said.
“It couldn’t have been that bad. Right?” Gen asked. “I’m sure she’d forgive you. She’s perfect for you, I think.”
“Really? What exactly makes her so perfect, Gen?” Brooke leaned across the table.
Gen wasn’t even fazed by the question. “Right away you can see she cares about family, because she’s come all the way here just to look out for dear Mrs. Paulsen. I don’t notice the rest of her family here. Just her. That says a lot about a person.”
“I’d like to meet her,” Mom said, making Scott wince. “She sounds fascinating.”
Most everyone in his family had seen the video. Unfortunately, he’d recently heard of an ugly rumor circulating through town. If there wasn’t a man in the room with Diana at the time of the fire, he must have snuck out. And who would have something to hide other than a married man? Therefore, this meant that Diana was about to have a tryst with a married man when the fire had started and ruined their plans. One plus one equaled three in this town, and always had.
He didn’t know Diana all that well, but it seemed out of character for the girl he remembered. She’d been on the straight and narrow then, and nothing much seemed to have changed in that department.
He slid another look to Sophia. Was she still looking at the same fork? What the hell was going on?
Scott cleared his throat. “What’s new at school, Sophia?”
She didn’t answer, prompting Giancarlo to nudge her. “Sophia. Your stepbrother is talking to you.”
Scott had noticed that whenever newly formed familial titles and expectations were pushed on her Sophia resented it. Not tonight. Tonight she glanced in his direction, and gave him the thousand yard stare. It hit him in the gut. Something was wrong, and he wondered why no one else had noticed.
After dessert, as usual one of Gen’s cakes, Scott tried to get Sophia’s attention without success. She was about to head back upstairs to her bedroom, he assumed, when he walked right into her path.
“Move,” she said without a smile.
“Talk to me.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “What for?”
“Just do it.” Scott jutted his chin towards the patio.
He couldn’t let this go. The last person he’d seen with that hollowed out gaze had been Jake, his Army buddy.
The rest of the family was inside getting ready for a game of Turlock Monopoly. There were some differences, like the recent fact that Brooke had renamed every property after an existing vineyard. And when
a person passed “go” they didn’t collect money but instead took a sip of wine and graded its properties. Pop had made up all sorts of weird baseball inspired rules no one fully understood. Other than that, it was the same never-ending game played by families all across America.
Sophia didn’t so much walk as slump toward the patio. Outside, she took a seat on a wicker chair and pulled out her phone.
“What’s up?” Scott asked.
She flipped through her phone, ignoring him. “Nothing. Just because I didn’t hear you doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”
“You stared at your fork for ten minutes.”
“What, you timed me?”
“C’mon. You know I won’t tell anyone. Whatever you tell me goes no farther.”
She stared out into the dark night. “I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful brat.”
“Too late.” He grinned.
She didn’t return the smile. “But I didn’t think it would be this hard.”
The new marriage between her father and Mom couldn’t be easy on Sophia. “The newlyweds?”
She snorted. “Which ones?”
“Ah, good point.” They’d had three weddings in the past year. Wallace and Gen were technically the newlyweds now. “I meant the newlyweds you have to live with.”
She sighed and folded her legs to her chest. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I want to be happy for my dad. I am, but it’s just that it’s plain—”
“Weird?”
“Yeah. And Eileen, I mean, she’s great. But—”
“Smothering you.”
“How can I get mad at her for being nice? Folding my laundry, putting it away. Cleaning my bathroom, making my bed.”
“If you want your privacy, just ask for it. She’ll back off.”
“This is her house. My Dad sold the house we grew up in, so this is where we live now.”
“And this is your home too.”
“No. My home is on 225 Cherryview Lane. That’s where I grew up with my mom and dad, and my sisters. Now strangers live there.”
“I get it. It’s a tough transition.”
“No, it’s not! Listen to me. I’m a spoiled brat. This is a beautiful house. It’s a freaking mansion. Our little house was three bedrooms and one bath. Here I have my own bedroom, my own private attached bathroom. I’m such an idiot.” She put her face in her hands.
“Hey. Billy got my mom this house with his first big baseball contract. But we grew up in a little house, too. I had to share a bedroom with Billy and he used to talk in his sleep. How’d you like to sleep with someone who shouts ‘put me in coach’ when he’s dreaming? Ah, those were good times.”
“Yeah. Never thought I’d say it but I miss my sisters. Three of us shared one bathroom. One by one they left home and then it was just me and my dad.”
“You miss that.”
She shook her head and bit a fingernail. “No. I’m glad he’s happy. He’s got someone. He was alone for a lot of years. Shit. Please, please don’t tell Eileen about any of this. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”
She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be okay.”
“You know you can call or text me anytime.”
“Are you trying to be brother of the year?” She gave him a half-smile. “Because there’s really no contest.”
“I guess you’re stuck with me.” But there was something else, too, something she wasn’t telling him. It hung between them like an untied rope. “So that’s it? There’s no other problem?”
“Nope,” Sophia said and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Gen stuck her head out the patio door. “Guys, we’re starting.”
Scott followed Sophia back inside, certain there was a lot more she wasn’t telling him.
***
The comment section on the “Someday My Prince Will Come” video had turned nasty.
Many commenters were mean spirited about whether or not someone of Diana’s size should have been wearing skimpy lingerie at all.
She’s a big girl. Leave that kind of thing to women who have the right figure for it.
You’re all a bunch of haters! Let the girl eat whatever she wants. She’s big and beautiful.
What’s wrong with all of you? When we’ve come to the point in our society where we call this girl fat, then something is really wrong. She’s a normal sized woman, with an ass on her. We’re supposed to have an ass!
Just because it’s in doesn’t mean she should be in it!
I have a diet plan that could work. My sister lost fifty pounds on the …
Diana had probably gained another five pounds since arriving in town, and all these comments only made her want to eat more cinnamon rolls.
Gran sat next to Diana on the couch while they watched The Bachelorette. Well, Gran was watching. Diana was glued to her phone. “This girl doesn’t have a lick of sense. Why not pick the guy in the tuxedo? Look how classy he is!”
“Who cares?” Diana sighed, looking up from the comment section. “Gran, I think I’m fat.”
Gran waggled her finger. “You’re not fat, you’re big boned. Tall. Like me. It’s the German in you.”
“I’ve gained weight since I broke up with Bradley.”
“But you’re not fat.”
She had to do something and do it soon. “I’m going to start running every day, twice a day. And you need to stop feeding me. Don’t let me have any food, no matter how much I beg!”
Gran’s hand went to her neck. At this point she was probably wondering which one of them needed to be put in a home. “Stop talking crazy.”
Diana had to re-arrange a few items on her to-do list. No problem. So she’d lose ten pounds, get Mom to forget about the nursing home, find a job and an apartment, interview a few firefighters for her article, write it, and get the video down. Her list was getting long, but no matter. She could handle it. It was her new life and she had met a few challenges along the way. All normal and to be expected.
“I’m going jogging right now.” No time like the present. If she put it off until tomorrow, then it would be a week before she started. By now she knew all the tricks up her subconscious sleeve. I’ll jog after I finish reading this paragraph. This page. This book. Hehehe. No more tricks. She’d outsmarted herself.
“I need some sweats or jogging clothes. Can I borrow something of yours?”
A few minutes later, Diana was slipping on a pink velour track suit with white piping that was about two sizes too big.
“Jogging is for the feeble-minded,” Gran said. “But if you insist on running I’ll make you a nice dinner to replenish your strength.”
“No need,” Diana said on her way out the door. “I think I’ll have a tomato for dinner.”
Ignoring Gran’s horrified look, Diana was out the door and jogging down the street. It had been a long time since she’d been jogging. Junior high possibly, if she recalled. She only started wheezing by the second block. No matter, she thought, as she gasped for breath. This would get easier by tomorrow. But right now she needed to take a break. She stopped in front of a house with a black pickup truck in the carport and a man under it, big work boots sticking out the side.
“Excuse me, sir?” She managed to gasp. Starlight Hill being the small and sometimes friendly town that it was, she was fairly certain the man would get her a drink of water. Or maybe call nine-one-one.
She heard the squeaky sound of the wheels on the rolling cart as the man came out from under the truck and stood. Oh crap. Scott. Nine-one-one had arrived. He ambled over, long legs covered with well-worn faded jeans hanging low on his hips. A white t-shirt streaked with grease stains clung to his skin. Fantastic. So this would make twice now that he’d saved her life?
“Are you okay?”
She bent over, holding the stitch in her side. “Fine, thanks. How are you? I just need a drink of water. Please?”
She staggered to t
he curb and sat her big ass down.
Of course Scott was back in two seconds with a cold bottle of water, which he handed to her. “Drink.”
She did, taking a few long gulps before she dared to look at him again, sitting next to her on the curb. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” He gestured to the home behind them.
“Why didn’t you tell me you lived so close to my grandmother?”
“It didn’t come up. And in Starlight Hill, everything is close anyway.” His sharp quick eyes appraised her jogging suit. “That’s a new look for you.”
Maybe she’d have to start jogging in the dark. “It’s my grandmother’s.”
A hint of a smile stayed on his lips. “Looks a little big on you.”
“I’ll fit into it in no time the way I’m going.” She couldn’t help the thought that immediately formed, unreasonable though it sounded. She pointed at Scott. “Your sister-in-law is a menace.”
He leaned back. “Don’t let my brother hear you say that. He’s the over-protective kind and that’s his wife you’re talking about.”
“Let’s see how he feels when he’s gained thirty pounds and can’t see his own feet.”
“Nah, the weight will all go to his head.”
Diana laughed despite her current lack of oxygen. “Are you calling your brother a fathead?”
“Well, I did that when I was eight and he wouldn’t let me have gummy worms for breakfast.”
“Bastard.” She took off her glasses and wiped the lenses, then slipped them back on.
Scott studied her like she hadn’t just collapsed in front of his sidewalk, sweaty hair plastered to her forehead, wearing her grandmother’s pink track suit. There was a gaze of male appreciation in his eyes. Something must really be wrong with this guy. He did have two older brothers. Maybe he’d been dropped on his head as a child.
She cleared her throat. “Any luck taking that video down?” She pretty much realized it was hopeless, but giving up couldn’t be part of the repertoire.
“Not yet,” he said, still watching her. “Is anyone bothering you about it?”
She didn’t really want to tell him. Knowing Scott, he’d try to fix it for her. “Not really. I just hear the occasional snicker when I walk by.”
Unforgettable You (Starlight Hill Series Book 4) Page 6