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The worn carpet scratches against my bare feet as I make my way to the front door. When I pull it open, an avalanche of female energy nearly knocks me back.
Simone’s red hair is tied up in a messy bun. She grabs me by the shoulders and grins in my face. “We’re here for a rescue.”
“A rescue?” I frown.
My sister Trina comes rushing past me as Candice beams from the doorway. Simone drops her hands from my shoulders and huffs. “Don’t pretend you weren’t working, Lily.” She thrusts an arm toward my laptop which, thankfully, is no longer showing the therapist’s website. “It’s Sunday! You can’t stay cooped up in here forever.”
What was I just saying about being on my own and surviving? Maybe I’m not so alone, after all.
I close the door behind them. “You guys ever hear of calling ahead?”
“We did,” Candice says, picking my phone up from the counter and turning it toward me. I have seven messages and eleven missed calls…all from the past ten minutes.
I purse my lips to hide my smile. Despite myself, that ball of emotion in my stomach starts to unwind. “What’s this about?”
“Did you talk to Rudy yet? Was he on a date?” Trina leans against my kitchen counter and arches her brows at me. “You never called us back after lunch yesterday.”
“Do I need to get my garden shears?” Candice asks, then makes a snipping motion with her fingers.
My lips twitch. “It was a business lunch.”
“See?” Simone says, throwing her hands out. “I told you Rudy wouldn’t do that. That man is looking for love.”
“That makes one of us,” I grumble.
Candice arches a brow while Trina’s eyes narrow. I avoid both sisters’ gazes. Feeling cooped up in my tiny apartment all of a sudden, I ask the girls if they want to walk and talk. We end up power walking the tree-lined streets of Heart’s Cove for the better part of an hour while I do my best to field their questions. Somehow, I manage to avoid mentioning that Rudy slept over last night. These women really like to gossip, and that is a grenade I don’t want exploding in my face.
We end up near the new community garden, where Dorothy looks up from one of the flower beds. “So?” she calls out. “Was it a date?” Then she picks up actual garden shears and closes them with violent enthusiasm.
“Business lunch!” Simone calls out. “I told you not to worry about him.”
“Good.” Dorothy nods, putting her shears down.
“You guys told Dorothy about Rudy’s lunch?” I ask. The four of us have drifted into the garden, and Dorothy is thrusting gardening gloves into our hands. “When? Why?”
“Shh,” Candice says, patting my arm. “We’re just looking out for you.”
“With a grandmother like Agnes, you can never be too sure. Rudy must have taken after his father’s side,” Dorothy says, pulling a few intrepid weeds from the rich, dark earth.
“Dorothy, is that a new dress? It’s beautiful,” Trina cuts in, and I get an urge to kiss her for changing the subject. Then I notice that my glamorous middle sister isn’t sweating in the midsummer sun. She’s glistening while I wipe another fat droplet of sweat off my brow. Then I feel less like kissing her and more like asking her why the heck she won the genetic lottery.
Surrounded by my friends and family, I end up spending a few minutes with the sun warming my back, weeding and raking and mulching and doing a thousand little things to keep this garden pristine. I have to admit, it’s better than sitting at my computer staring at a spreadsheet.
As I stand up and stretch my back, I meet Trina’s eyes. She gives me a smile and a nod, and it feels like an injection of strength.
I don’t need Rudy, or any man. His attention is nice, but I can do this without him. I have to do this without him—and I will.
Once Dorothy dismisses us from our gardening duties, the four of us continue down the street toward the café. The tables outside the Four Cups Café are full of people, with two dogs lapping at bowls of water and a baby in a stroller cooing at her mother.
That will be me soon.
My hearts squeezes and Trina must notice because she grabs my hand where no one can see it. The touch settles me, and once again I feel the support of these women propping me up.
“Candice, are you ready for your housewarming?” I ask her, just to say something. I gently pull my hand away from Trina’s, and she lets it drop.
“Mom ordered seventeen cases of wine,” Candice says with a flat stare. “Cases. Don’t even ask me why. I’ll be drinking chardonnay until I’m sixty.”
Laughing, I open the Four Cups Café door. Fiona is standing behind the till with her stepdaughter Clancy and the regular barista, Sven. The three of them are in matching pink T-shirts with glittery Heart’s Cove Hotties written on the front. Sven’s shirt has the sleeves ripped off, and his colorful tattoos climb up his arms like vines. Something softens in my heart at the sight of them behind the till, and I’m not sure why. Maybe this place is feeling a bit more like home every day.
