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M: What’s a boob’s favorite swimming style?
Ah, there he was. Her friend was back.
Z: I don’t know.
M: The breaststroke
Z: Ugh. Mine was better!
M: As usual. Get some sleep.
Z: I’m glad you stopped by tonight. It’s going to be a busy weekend. Surprising Hazel by redecorating the living room.
M: Want any help?
Z: Mary, Piper and Tani are coming over tomorrow. We’ll git ’er done!
M: Call if you need me.
Z: I will. G’night.
Call if you need me.It was a normal sentence. Something they’d probably said and texted a hundred times. But it hit her differently tonight.
She hadn’t really thought about what would happen to their friendship as they rebuilt their lives after death and divorce. The truth was, those two things hadalreadychanged it. Redefined it. When they were married, they’d been casual friends who saw each other at picnics, parties or weddings. Their spouses had both been understanding of the bond Mike and Zoey shared. She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed.
When the marriages were over, their friendship slid back into what it was in school, with all the clowning around and hanging out together. If Mike reallywasat a threshold—ready to find someone new—then no matter what they’d said tonight, their friendship was going to change once more. She lay awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. She’d miss what she and Mike had now.
More than she wanted to admit, even to herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
VICKIEGLAREDINTOher bathroom mirror and heaved a long, loud sigh. Whowasthis old woman staring back at her? Where had those new lines come from? She’d hadsomelast week, but notthismany. And that vertical crease between her brows had definitely gotten deeper. She was getting older. She was going to have wrinkles. She got that. But new ones everyweek?
She brushed her teeth, then plucked the one black chin hair that kept growing back, no matter what she did. Her eyebrows were acceptable today—no rebellious strands sticking out half an inch like she’d found last week. Aging was so much weirder than she’d anticipated. She’d never expected to have hairstopgrowing in some places, only to grow at hypersonic speeds innewplaces. It hardly seemed fair.
She tugged her old chenille robe more snugly around her waist. She didn’t have anything on her calendar until afternoon, when she was meeting Lena at the marina restaurant for a late lunch on the waterfront. She still had plenty of time to figure out what to wear. It was one of those weird May days that could go either way weather-wise. If the sun stayed out, it would warm up substantially from the current chilly temperatures. Maybe even enough to wear the short-sleeved linen shift she’d worn on Easter Sunday. If the clouds rolled in earlier than expected, it would be blazer and trousers weather.
But first...coffee. She slipped her feet into her comfy old fuzzy slippers—the ones she made sure no one ever caught her in—and padded down the staircase to the kitchen. A big, cold, empty house was the downside of being single. The upside was being able to wear whatever the hell she wanted before and after certain hours, when guests were unlikely to come calling.
Her coffee maker was a fancy machine that made espresso, cappuccino and who-knew-what-else-o. It even had its own programmable coffee grinder so she could use fresh beans. It had been ridiculously expensive, but Vickie wasn’t one to worry about that once she saw something she wanted. And she’d never regretted splurging on a machine that made coffee good enough to be served at an Italian sidewalk café, right here in the comfort and privacy of her kitchen.
The built-in speakers had synced with her phone and were playing a jazzy Adele tune. Vickie swayed and shimmied to the music, belting out the words like it was karaoke night at the Shamrock. She pushed her hair behind her ears, idly thinking she needed to check when her next appointment was. She’d need highlights soon. Her hips were still swinging as she poured her coffee into her favorite bright blue mug.
It wasn’t until she was putting the pot back in place that she heard a sound behind her. Coffee sloshed over the edge of her cup as she plunked it down and spun to face the doors to the lake.
Her contractor was on the deck, staring straight at her through the glass. He was on one knee, with a toolbox at his side and a hammer in his hand. He wore a faded thermal Henley and paint-splattered jeans. And on his face, he wore a wide, amused smile. He pushed up the brim of his ball cap, revealing equally amused gray-blue eyes framed with lines from years in the sun.
In the midst of her rising rage was a quiethubba hubba,but she dismissed it immediately.
“Gordon Lexiter!” She threw open the French doors, channeling a few of the characters she’d played in community theater over the years. It was something she did when caught off guard. Rather than admit embarrassment, she’d grab a character and play them until she found her balance again. Auntie Mame was a personal favorite. She pulled herself as tall as possible. “What thehellare you doing out here? How dare you spy on me in my home like some creeper!”
Gordon stayed on one knee. He also stayed amused, which really got under her skin.
“Victoria Mallory Noor Pendergast Rivers Pendergast...” His smile deepened as he accurately rattled off her long list of last names. “Youhiredme to be out here. In fact, you emailed me two days ago and berated me for not being here sooner. And I wasn’tspying. I was getting ready to go to work when you put on your little show.” He rested his arm on his knee. “Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting to start my day with a striptease.”
Vickie stiffened. “I wasnotdoing a...” She looked down to be sure.Well, shit.Her robe had loosened from all of her shimmying and had nearly slipped off one shoulder. She yanked it up and tightened the belt. “It wasn’t a show. It was me in what Ithoughtwas the privacy of my own kitchen at eight o’clock in the morning.”
Gordon slowly rose to his feet, reminding Vickie that he’d once been a linebacker on the high school football team way back when. He was tall and broad shouldered, and bicep muscles bunched under that snug shirt. His thick, pewter brows drew together as he frowned.
