Friends Like Us, page 9
“Dork.” Jill rolled her eyes. “You’re on.”
“Rock, paper, scissors!” they cried in unison.
Jill made scissors while Bree challenged with paper.
“You win,” Bree crowed. “That means it’s time to spill the beans.”
Jill wrinkled her nose but went ahead anyway. “Fine. Essie took me for a walk-through at the Anchor Court cottage.” She fell back on the couch. “Oh Bree, it’s perfect. Bright. Cheerful. A little whimsical.”
“That’s fantastic!” But Jill didn’t seem happy, in fact she looked miserable. The skin under her eyes was tinged a pale purple and she was doing that habitual lip-biting thing she did whenever she got stressed.
“Essie thinks I should snap it up.” Jill continued in a small, plaintive voice. “But the cottage is too big for someone like me. I mean what am I going to do with three bedrooms?”
“The house is pretty modest,” Bree pointed out gently, trying to get to the real reason behind Jill’s feelings. “The bedrooms must be the size of shoeboxes.”
The observation didn’t conjure any reaction from her friend.
Bree forged on. Jill was usually the one trying to fix Bree’s life so here was a perfect opportunity to try and pay her back. “What about a roommate to help offset the mortgage? Or you could Airbnb one of the rooms. A few other people in town do that and sometimes they get really fascinating people from all over the world.” These weren’t the most ideal suggestions, but where there was a will, there was a way. Jill had been the one to teach her that.
“Heck no!” Jill bolted upright, the blanket falling to the side. “You know me, Bree. I value my personal space way too much. But I don’t know… Being there…it felt right.” She covered her face with her hands. “And that feels wrong.”
Bree’s eyes widened as she had a private a-ha moment. “Because Simon isn’t there to share it with you?”
Jill’s lower lip quivered—just once but it was enough of a tell. “It just feels so monumentally unfair to take that step without him.”
Bree’s heart was so full it almost hurt. She leaned over and took her friend’s hand, the skin was cool and clammy to the touch. “Honey, I know this is so hard. But I also know he’d want you to be happy. Simon worshipped the ground you walked on and he’d want you to chase your dreams. And remember that anything is possible if you have friends to support you, and, honey, you have that in spades. I’m always here to share in your happiness. But I’m also equally here to help ease your pain.”
“I know, and I love you for that. You can’t know how much your friendship means to me. And I understand Simon’s gone and that no amount of wishful thinking is ever going to make him come back and that being a martyr isn’t going to change anything about this whole sucky situation.” Jill withdrew her hand and flung herself to standing, striding to the living room windows and looking like a lost little girl. “But I gotta tell you, B. It’s so so hard to imagine myself living in my dream home without my dream man.”
That made sense—and yet, Bree wanted only good things for her friend. And Simon really would hate to see Jill this adrift. Sympathy flooded her. “So what are you going to do?” Bree asked after a pause once it became clear her friend wasn’t going to say anything else.
“No clue.” Jill wiped her eyes. “Guess I need to do a lot of thinking. Now what’s your news?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to process your situation more? There is a lot there to go over.” She didn’t say the rest of her sentence out loud, the helpless feeling she always held back from her best friend: …and you never open up about Simon. I know you are hurting but I don’t know how to help fix what’s broken. And there seemed to be more, hiding right below the surface.
“Ugh, trust me, I know, but I’m so exhausted by my stuff. I need to escape my own drama. Please do me a favor and share yours.”
Behind her rose-gold frames, Jill’s eyes seemed to plead with her to change the subject.
So Bree picked her drink up and recalibrated. This was definitely a story that required alcohol. “So Essie came here for tea and was pretty persuasive about a remodel, as I mentioned earlier. And I don’t want to bug Sadie with interior design ideas when she’s juggling the Old Red Mill renovation and the impending baby.”
“Makes sense.”
“Essie suggested a new contracting company and I decided to let them come out and work on a quote. But the builder who came was…well…him!”
“Who?” Jill blinked, clearly missing the innuendo.
“Him! The dark and handsome guy from The Draughty Cellar. My anti–bucket list fling! His name is Chance Elliston.”
“Holy guacamole with a side of chips.” Jill’s lips made a perfect O. “That’s nuts!”
“That’s Cranberry Cove.” Bree threw up her hands in exasperation. “We all know how it is in this town. There is zero anonymity here. Might as well embrace it.” Bree filled Jill in on the little she knew of Chance’s career in New York City and how he was helping out his brother, but when she got to the part about how he invited her to Portland she realized she couldn’t say it. Because she wasn’t going to go. The realization hit her with the force of a lightning bolt.
No way could she run off and leave town when Jill looked as if she was one hard wind from blowing away. Plus, to be honest, the more it festered in her mind, she had to admit a trip to Portland as Chance’s friend sucked rocks. Big pointy ones.
“Hey,” she said, getting up to grab the bottle to refill their glasses. “Want to sleep over tonight?”
“Really?” Jill clapped her hands. “We haven’t done that in forever.”
Bree warmed to the tip of her toes. It felt so good to be the one helping Jill for a change.
“And it’s your lucky night because I’ve got a box of Korean sheet masks that arrived yesterday. Plus the new drama about the British monarchy just dropped on one of my streaming sites. We can do some serious binging and ooh and ahh over the gowns.”
“That sounds absolutely smashing, old chum,” Jill said with a mock British accent. “But first,” she said, getting serious, “are you thinking of taking things further with this Chance character?” Her eyes narrowed. “Because I can do some digging. Check him out. See where the bodies are buried.”
“Gosh, between you and Renee I don’t think I ever have to worry about ending up with anyone nefarious.”
Bree ducked into the kitchen for a bag of popcorn. “Besides,” she said, mustering brightness into her tone. “That’s never going to work. It was just a one-time thing for my list. From now on our relationship is going to be strictly professional.” Maybe if she kept saying it, her words would become true. They’d exchanged numbers before he’d finally taken off and she could simply text him before bed to call the trip off.
Yes. Perfect. Quality time with Jill would be much better than heading out of town with a manly drool magnet who seemed to have a PhD in female pleasure but only wanted to be friends.
As she fought back the turbulent roiling in her tummy, her gaze caught a flyer she’d impulsively stuck on her fridge this morning. The picture of a corgi posed next to a rosebush steadied her. “Anyway, I’m thinking about getting a new man in my life.”
She grabbed the flyer, in addition to the SmartPop!, and brought it into the living room, handing the flyer over while setting the popcorn between them.
“What’s this? ‘Second Chance Friends Adoption Weekend’?” Jill murmured, reading the header.
“Second Chance Friends is this great animal rescue group that rehomes dogs and cats if their owners pass away or get too sick to care for them. I also had getting a fur baby on my anti–bucket list, so figured I should go see if I can find a friend. A lapdog would be a sweet companion while I knit and if he is well behaved, Noreen will probably let him hang out at Castaway during my shifts.”
“This is incredible. You are taking lots of chances lately,” Jill said with a teasing emphasis. “I like to see you come out of your shell.”
Bree ducked her head, pleased at the compliment.
“Before you know it you probably will be off trekking the Great Wall of China or heck, maybe even Kilimanjaro! No wait, I know, you can hike the Appalachian Trail with Dot Turner.”
“Yeah right.” She flung one of her mom’s hand-embroidered throw pillows at Jill before grabbing the remote. “You know I couldn’t keep up with her.”
“Ha!” Jill said. “And sadly true. Dot will outlive us all.”
“Truth.”
And as they settled in on the couch, ready to escape into the behind-the-scenes dramas of Buckingham Palace, Bree glanced at her phone on the table and reassured herself that she was doing the right thing.
Needing a cuddle, she scooched down the couch, resting her head in Jill’s lap. As the opening scenes rolled, she wasn’t seeing the sumptuous throne room with the red velvet curtains and golden wallpaper flashing on the flat screen. She was imagining Chance’s adorable dimples and perceptive eyes…and then strangely Grandview Inn—had somebody snapped it up already? Not that it mattered, she had no business or ability to do anything about either of those things. Jill’s musings on the little red-door cottage probably just meant she had real estate on the brain.
Essie Park would be so proud.
Jill absently stroked Bree’s hair, using the same reassuring rhythm she’d used since they were in kindergarten and Bree had fallen on the playground concrete and scraped a knee.
Her lips curled into a faint smile. A best friend and a dog—that was all she needed to live her best life.
Chapter Twelve
After a pot of French-pressed coffee so strong that Jill swore she could hear buzzing in her ears—and polishing off Renee’s lemon meringue pie with a scoop of strawberry sorbet for good measure—it was time to leave Bree’s house and seize the day.
“Don’t forget to text me pics of cute fluffy dogs,” she ordered Bree while tying a knot in the old Cranberry Cove High volleyball shirt her friend had loaned her. Not exactly flattering high fashion but she needed to do some heavy cleaning over at Chickadee’s so it suited the agenda.
“Will do.” Bree gave her a squeeze. “Good luck today.”
As she drove off, Jill found herself smiling. It was hard not to on such a beautiful Maine morning. The ocean glimpses between the charming beachside cottages filled her heart to bursting. Birds sang, fishing boats churned through the calm waters of the cove, and pale golden light snuck through the pine trees causing the bowers to glow.
But her good mood evaporated faster than a drop of water in a cast-iron pan when she spotted the woman up ahead, walking down the sidewalk while carrying a plastic caddy loaded with cleaning supplies. Jill recognized the mass of hair, the dark blond streaks that were the same shade as her own natural color mixed with thick coils of silver. The woman wore a long brightly colored Indian-print skirt and a black linen tank top.
Linda.
Jill didn’t feel like engaging this morning, but what was the alternative, lead-footing it past at ten miles over the limit? Not an option, especially as Linda had been forced to sell her sedan to avoid bankruptcy five years ago.
Jill pulled over to the curb and rolled down the passenger-side window. “Hey. Need a ride?”
“Jill.” Linda offered a genuine smile. “Now this is a happy surprise. I’m just coming back from a cleaning job, but the gig was so easy that I finished an hour ahead of schedule. The visitors left the place immaculate so I just had to do a quick mop and wipe down—I love when that happens. What are you up to?”
“I’m heading out to the Old Red Mill to work on sprucing up the gallery. It’s almost ready for the grand reopening but is still sort of a mess. I don’t want to bring out my inventory until it’s spotless.”
“Want some company?” Linda shyly raised her cleaning caddy. “I’d love to help.”
Jill could tell by the way her mom’s shoulders deflated that her expression wasn’t exactly overjoyed. Crud. She needed to try harder. Linda was doing her best to be friendly and helpful.
As much as her childhood memories stung, what was the point of causing more pain now? Simon had always encouraged her to repair her relationship with Linda, especially given the fact his own parents died in a car crash when he was eighteen. He knew there was a lot of pain there—and didn’t push her to rush—but she had to admit that she stopped trying to let her mom back into her heart when she’d buried Simon. It was far easier to build a wall and keep Linda on the other side. A person could only hold so much hurt in their heart before they had to compartmentalize to make it through the day. She couldn’t put all her emotions on hold forever, but if she let them all out, she’d risk being overrun, and she had a business to get back on track and a life to live.
But it wouldn’t kill her to make more of an effort with Linda. After all, in so many ways, she was a victim of circumstances. It wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t been able to be around, and that she’d financially stumbled because she wanted to improve her lot in life. But that didn’t change the fact that deep down Jill felt like she’d been forced to raise herself, and then bail her mom out.
It would have been nice to be the child sometimes, rather than the responsible one.
But longing for a perfect childhood or a mom who was wise and a go-to for sensible advice wasn’t the reality.
And maybe if she accepted that, she could move on.
“Help would be great,” Jill said, praying she sounded like she meant it, and that Simon, wherever he was, might be proud of her.
The ruse must have worked because Linda’s face brightened. “Really? You mean it?”
“Don’t get so excited,” Jill said as her mom opened up the passenger door and got herself situated. “It’s literally cleaning. Nothing glamorous.”
“This is your store, your baby. I want to be there for you,” Linda said, seemingly unaware at how Jill flinched at the word “baby.”
A few hours later and even Jill had to admit that her mom’s presence was a godsend. While she finished painting the walls, getting them ready to receive the brightly colored canvases she sold in the shop, Linda scrubbed and dusted and organized. It would have taken Jill at least two full days to finish that amount of work on her own.
“Have you had enough yet?” Jill asked after her mom finished wiping down the windows with vinegar and water. It turned out that Linda made all her cleaning products from environmentally friendly ingredients and now the old space smelled like eucalyptus and lemongrass. “You’re allowed to cry uncle at any time. There is no obligation or expectation to stay all day.”
“Are you kidding?” Linda paused to wipe her brow, sweat sheening her top lip. “I’m having a blast. It’s great to be with you. We never seem to find the time.”
Yep, that was pain in her mother’s voice. Pain Jill knew she had an active role in putting there. She wasn’t the little girl hiding under the bed at midnight wishing for her mommy anymore. But neither was Linda that harried too-young mom expecting her lonely kid to be a mini-adult.
“Look.” Jill took a deep breath. It was high time she said a few things to try to break down that wall between them. “I know that I’m pretty distant at the best of times, but I don’t want to be a jerk. It’s just hard for me to know what I want from you…” She let the words trail off. It would be so great to have a mother-daughter relationship. She’d watched enough Gilmore Girls to crave that easy connection, a friendship with an older, wiser woman who was there to show you how to buy a bra that fits and serve up life advice alongside a homemade dinner.
But her life wasn’t a picture-perfect small-town television show.
Still…she wanted something more than what they currently had. It was starting to become evident that she couldn’t continue through life as a one-woman island, she needed to start building a few bridges.
Linda suddenly noticed another splotch on a window ledge and went after it a little too vigorously. After another minute of strained silence, she spoke again, scrunching her rag in her hand. “Thank you for letting me spruce up your shop. It felt good.”
“To clean?” Jill arched a brow.
“To help you, baby. I see the woman you’ve blossomed into and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I wish I could have been the mom who made cookies, or knew how to roast a turkey, or cook anything that didn’t go in the microwave. I wish that I had put your hair in pigtails in the morning before school, and been there at dinner to hear about your day. I know I was tired too much, and loving too little. I can’t tell you how much I wish we had taken more time to run out into the night barefoot to catch fireflies. To build snowmen and, you know, stuff like that.” Her voice cracked, as tears flooded her eyes. “You and I are the only family we have left and please believe me that I want to spend the rest of my time on this planet putting things right. No more regrets.”
Jill stood in stunned silence. This was the most her mom had ever acknowledged the pain of her youth. And as the words sunk in, something started to heal in her broken heart. Not a full repair, but a few strong stitches.
“Can I…” Her voice hitched too. “Can I give you a hug? Please?”
“Of course.” Linda’s lower lip quivered. “Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”
They embraced for what felt like forever, and even though Jill wasn’t small anymore, she slotted perfectly into her mom’s arms, and for just a moment she felt safe—protected—loved, even.
“Oh dear!” A female voice piped from the open door. “I’m sorry. I can come back later.”
Jill stepped back, wiping her eyes before taking in a pretty, curly-haired thirty-something woman with freckles and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, shifting nervously in the Chickadee entrance.
“Hello,” Jill said, clearing her throat. “Are you looking for Hester’s Pie Shop?”
The woman chuckled, patting her stomach, hidden beneath a baggy lilac T-shirt and corduroy cutoffs. “Don’t worry, I found that and I’ve already had a slice of blueberry pie. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Ashley Wood. I’m going to be opening a store here on the second floor of the mill. It’s a bookshop. Book o’Clock.”
