By the time I return with the glass of ice water she’d poured, she seems to have gotten her initial emotional response under control. She doesn’t look happy, but it feels safe to hand her a glass of very cold liquid I’d rather not wear.
“You’ll stay in Sumac Falls?” she asks. “After, I mean? What about your company?”
“We’re still working out the details,” I hedge. “The plan is for Gin to sell the house to Cara and me, and find a small retirement home somewhere.”
“Somewhere far away?” she asks hopefully, making me chuckle.
“Probably not, but it won’t matter. Cara and I will restore the house and probably split time between here, with me working remotely, and Boston. But we’ll be here for holidays and random family dinners.”
She takes a long drink of water and then sighs before leaning back against the cushions. “I need to process this. And where are you getting married? Nine days, Hayden?”
“You don’t have to worry about a thing. Once we have the final details figured out, all you have to do is show up and smile.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re definitely going to want a bride’s side and a groom’s side for the seating, with a really wide aisle between them.”
Even though that sounds ominous, relief floods through me. She’s accepted there will be a wedding, at least. “Noted.”
“Okay, my show’s going to start. Leave me alone to watch it while I process all this.” I bend low to kiss her cheek, but she grabs my face between her hands. “Will this make you happy?”
Owning the Gamble house will make me very happy. “Yes. Cara makes me happy, Mom.”
She looks like she sucked a lemon, but at least she manages a weak smile. “Then I’ll be happy for you.”
“Thank you. I’m going for a drive while you watch your show,” I say. I need to get out of this house for a few minutes, and driving calms me. “Penny, you want to go for a ride?”
My faithful sidekick just nestles further into her bed, squeezes her eyes shut and pretends she didn’t hear me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cara
“Look, I’ve wrestled bigger dogs than you and won.” Mocha, a mixed-breed rescue no bigger than a loaf of bread, doesn’t even blink. “You’ll feel so much better when I get that tangle out.”
She sits perfectly still, just staring at me, and I’m not sure if she’s trying to pretend she’s invisible or if she’s attempting some kind of mind control. Mocha’s my last appointment of the day, and I don’t know if there’s something in the air or if it’s the way my morning started, but every one of them has been a challenge.
So far I’ve won them all, but I’m tempted to put down the de-matting comb and go straight for the scissors.
I dislike bribing my furry clients, but the clock’s ticking, so I grab a lick mat and load it with all-natural peanut butter—all of my customers list food approvals and allergies during intro visits—and a few tiny treats. The mat has suction cups to hold it to the grooming table, and by the time Mocha’s gotten every speck of peanut butter out of the maze, I’ve detangled her without cutting out chunks of her hair.
Mocha’s mom is thrilled, tipping generously, and then I’m finally alone. I have almost an hour before Mel’s supposed to arrive, so I throw myself into cleaning. While I wash and sanitize the lick mat, I practice what I’m going to say to her. By the time I’m finished sanitizing the rest of the equipment and vacuuming and mopping the floor, I’m still not sure.
I can’t tell her the truth. I want to, of course, and it would certainly be easier than lying to my best friend. But there’s a lot at stake, and I promised Hayden. If he has to lie to his mother and brother, I have to lie to Mel.
It’s not really a skill I’m great at, but now that there’s a glimmer of hope I can get out from under that house, it’s become something I want so desperately, I’ll do whatever I have to do.
Dammit, I still haven’t talked to Georgia.
A few minutes before six, Mel walks in. “I’m actually early. Put it on your calendar!”
I laugh, feeling better for a few seconds. Her bouncy blonde ponytail, warm brown eyes, and easy smile always cheer me up. But then I remember why I asked her to come and my amusement fades away. She sets the tote on the grooming table and pulls out a massive bottle of white wine before unwrapping two wine glasses.
“You brought wine?”
Mel shrugs. “I know you wouldn’t have had me come over if it wasn’t urgent. And I know Hayden Reilly’s still hanging around town. And you have Gin for a mother. I’m not sure what’s going on, but whatever it is merits alcohol.”
I look at the bottle, nodding. “It’s an all of the above situation, so it’s probably good we both walked here. Crack it open.”
She pours us each a drink—none of that inch in the bottom of the glass nonsense for Mel—and hands me one. I’m still trying to find the words to give her the news, and I’m still coming up blank.
