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Lily laughed. And Caroline tried to use the moment to slip away. She would rather have a conversation with the now empty industrial dishwasher than an air force officer.
“Looks like we’re late to the party,” a familiar male voice called.
Lily caught hold of Caroline’s arm. She glanced down at Lily’s bright pink nails. “You don’t have to go,” Lily whispered. “Stay and meet Helena. You’ll like her. And you already know Ryan.”
Caroline nodded and took a step back as if she could disappear into the shadows. But the area near the bar was well lit, unlike some of the corners behind the subwoofer stacks near the DJ stage. Still, the new arrivals weren’t looking at her. They were focused on their friends—or at least the man in air force dress blues was too busy shaking Noah’s hand to notice her. The woman—Helena—she kept her gaze fixed on her shoes.
No one rushed forward to greet her. Noah, Dominic, and Lily—they all stared at her. And Caroline could understand their hesitation. They were probably scared they’d wrinkle her because the mud-loving, four-wheeling farm girl looked like she’d walked off the pages of a fashion magazine. From her Prada stilettos to her fitted white Capri-length jeans to her tailored pale-pink blouse, this woman looked like she would scream and run if she saw a cow.
As for mud or hay in her hair? Caroline couldn’t picture the newcomer with a single strand of her blond bob out of place. She was sleek, slim, and wearing enough makeup to keep her face looking picture perfect from morning till night, and probably beyond.
For the first time since she’d arrived in Forever, Oregon, Caroline felt like she might fit in here. Sure, it was only by comparison to the long lost Helena. Still—
Ryan stepped closer to the Prada Princess and went to put his arm around her. The perfect, put together woman flinched as if he might hit her. It was a small movement. Maybe the others hadn’t noticed, Caroline thought, because a split second later, Helena allowed her best friend from childhood to drape his arm across her shoulder.
Ryan gave her a tepid squeeze and then withdrew his hand. One look at the officer’s face and Caroline suspected he’d seen his friend react as if he might hurt her. The tall man in the dress uniform appeared equal parts hurt and mystified.
But Caroline knew. Looking at Helena . . . it was like staring into a mirror and seeing her own reflection from a year ago. Not the clothes or the hair, but the way Helena held herself apart as if she craved isolation—as if she wanted to make herself somehow less. The clothes were a shell, but they didn’t offer this woman assurance. If Helena had been sure of herself at some point, her confidence had been stripped away.
Caroline didn’t know this woman’s story. She doubted Helena’s childhood friends knew the hows and whys behind her transformation. But she recognized that island of complete loneliness. She’d lived there and she knew without asking that Helena hadn’t brought herself to this place.
Chapter 7
CAROLINE SLIPPED INTO the back room while the circle of high school friends struggled to make small talk with their old friend. The questions echoed in the nearly empty barroom and drifted through the swinging door.
Did she like California?
Yes.
Had she made new friends?
Some.
Helena was the queen of stiff, one-word answers. When asked if she worked, she told them she’d tried acting, but then she’d met Ashford. And she’d given up the starving artist life when she married him. Helena punctuated the explanation with a laugh that sounded like it had been tried and tested at country club cocktail parties—or maybe in her old acting classes.
But the visit continued, moving in stops and starts. Helena asked a few questions about the bar before slipping back into her stunted responses when Lily pressed for more details about the amazing Ashford. He worked in the catchall field of ‘business’ and liked golf.
Laughter spilled in from the front and Caroline wondered if she’d imagined the other woman’s loneliness. Maybe talking to Josh about how she’d felt trying to navigate through a world where the man who was hurting her maintained his position of power had led her to project her feelings. She’d never met this woma
n before. And while she could tell Helena had changed after she’d moved away, that didn’t mean—
The door leading to the bar’s public space swung open and Caroline instinctively moved closer to the dishwasher. But Helena clearly hadn’t rushed out of the bar’s front room to see her. The Prada Princess held her cell phone pressed to her ear.
“I’m sorry,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know you were taking an earlier flight—”
From halfway across the room, Caroline heard a male voice shouting what sounded an awful lot like you left without telling me. I didn’t give you permission.
Why would Helena sneak away to visit her hometown? And why would she need permission?
The rest of the words were lost, but she clearly heard “you bitch” and “come home now.”
“Yes,” Helena said. “I will.” Then she closed her eyes and lowered the phone. Tears streamed down her face.
It was none of her business, but Caroline stepped forward, her steel-toed boots pressing into the squishy rubber mat that covered the floor beside the dishwasher.
Helena opened her eyes and turned to her. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t realize—”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Caroline said. “Are you all right?”
