How (Not) to Fall in Love (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

December 5

S
al and I ate lunch together in the back of the cafeteria. Her fierce glares scared away all the drama groupies. She knew today was the estate sale, but she also knew I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she prattled on about rehearsals, interspersed with stories about Mark’s creative bedroom skills. “Speaking of,” she said, pausing to suck down soda, “what’s up in that department with you and the smexy college boy-toy?”

I smiled but shook my head. “Nothing to spill.”

Sal had been deliriously happy when I’d told her about Lucas and me. She’d gloated about how she was right about him on Homecoming night. “You’ve got to be kidding me. If I were you, by now I would’ve—”

“Stop. I don’t need you to spell out what you’d have done by now.” I stole one of her fries. “I’m moving at my own speed with Lucas. And he’s fine with that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t get you, Darcy. That’s like having dinner in a gourmet restaurant but skipping dessert.”

“Drop it, Sal. He’s not just a boy toy. He means a lot to me.”

Sal rolled her eyes. “Like I don’t know you’re madly in love?” She paused, giving me one of her mind-reading glares. “Did you tell him yet? That you love him?”

I sighed. “Not yet. I will. Soon.” He knew. How could he not?

“You have to say it. Especially since he said it to you first. It’s like a rule.”

“It’s not a rule.”

She snorted. “Whatever. Subject change. Give me some juicy details. Please tell me he’s an awesome kisser.”

I shook my head, laughing at her, but I felt my cheeks burning as I thought of Lucas’s kisses. He was most definitely awesome. Epic. Off-the-charts.

She grinned, pointing a fry at me. “I knew it. Details. Now.”

“No.” I reached for another fry but she pulled them away.

“No details, no fries.”

M
om picked me up after school and we went to a movie, then dinner, something we hadn’t done in ages. When we got home, it was clear that the estate sale lady was right about not being around to watch the vultures. Our house was almost picked clean of small items. Sold tags were on most of the furniture. I was grateful my room was off-limits, since I was bringing everything with me.

“You okay?” I gripped Mom’s hand as we walked into the kitchen, where the cupboards were open and almost bare. We’d saved a set of dishes and glasses, some pots and pans, but all the fancy china and crystal was gone.

She bit her lip as she took it all in. She squeezed my hand. “I will be.”

We watched a Hugh Grant movie, since Mom loved him, nestled on the couch together like when I was a kid. She drank herbal tea and I ate popcorn. We even managed to laugh a little when Hugh’s friends all crammed into a tiny car to race across London so he could declare his love to Julia Roberts.

“We’re going to be okay, Mom,” I whispered, as the movie credits rolled.

“I hope so, honey. I hope so.”

L
ucas texted me as I was falling asleep. He’d gone to a basketball game with friends.

“How’s my girl?”

“Sleepy. But ok.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Sad. But sober.”

“That’s good, right?”

It was.

Darcy and Marilyn,

Houses built on sand collapse. Empires built on lies cannot stand. I pray for forgiveness.

–Ty

Chapter Twenty-Eight

December 6

M
om and I stood in the driveway ready to go our separate ways on Saturday. A line of people snaked down our sidewalk, anxious to get into the sale. They watched us curiously as we stood by our vehicles.

Mrs. Sandri had given us a key and told us to clean and paint, whatever we needed to do. Mom had decided to paint. She looked determined, wearing an old Tri!Umphant! T-shirt and sweatpants. I didn’t even know she owned sweats.

“Come by on your lunch break,” she said, since I was scheduled to work all day at Liz’s.

I nodded, my throat tight around unshed tears. I was so proud of her and so relieved she hadn’t relapsed. I’d been terrified she would. I took a breath and smiled. “Don’t paint the living room puke green. Or princess pink.” I crossed my eyes, making her laugh.

She did her best Fake-Bake Pam impression. “I think you know I have much better taste than that.”

We laughed and hugged each other tightly.

I
was glad to be working by myself for the first part of the morning. The smell of brewing coffee relaxed me, reminding me that I was in a safe place. His Royal Hotness was my first customer, entering through the alley door before I’d unlocked the front door. Unlike the front-door customers, he greeted me with a kiss that set me on fire, chasing away my worries with his touch.

“I didn’t think you were working today,” I said, when we came up for air.

“I’m not,” he said, his eyes drinking me in like he hadn’t seen me in a year. “But I wanted to see you.” I leaned against his chest and sighed without words. He held me, running a hand through my hair. “What’s wrong?”

“The house is practically empty. It’s so hard being there when it doesn’t feel like home.”

“You’re almost out of there,” he whispered against my hair.

“I know.” I raised my head to smile at him. “Mom’s at Mrs. Sandri’s today. Painting. But I don’t think she knows how.”

“I can go by the house to help her.”

I rolled my eyes. “How many times must we discuss the hero complex? You’re not in charge of rescuing us.”

His jaw tightened. “Stop psycho-analyzing me. I happen to be an experienced painter.”

I stepped around him to go unlock the front door. “Of course you are,” I said over my shoulder, flipping the
closed
sign to
open
. “You also leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

He ignored me, instead busying himself at the espresso machine. “I have a ladder. Paintbrushes. I even have painter’s pants.”

“I have a better idea. If you really have nothing to do today, how about fixing my truck?”

His smile faded. “Is it acting up?”

“No, just the blue smoke you already saw. But I’d like to know it’s in good shape.”

He frowned at me. “Are you planning a road trip?”

“No.” My cheeks flushed under his penetrating stare.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What are you up to, Shaker Girl?”

I turned away, filling the pastry case. “I’m not up to anything. You know I want the truck fixed. And we’ll have the estate sale money by the end of the week. So I can pay you for parts.” I shot him a sideways glance. “And labor.”

“My labor costs are high.” He took the pastry box and set it on the counter, then pulled me into his arms again. “Very high. But I’ll consider giving you a discount.” He bent to kiss me again, tasting like coffee.

The front door whooshed open and we pulled apart. His eyes danced as he looked down at me, holding out his hand. “Give me your truck key.”

I fished my keys out of my pocket and handed them over. Lucas glanced toward the guy in bike shorts who’d paused to pick up a copy of the daily paper I’d set on a table.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered, kissing me quickly on the top of my head. I heard the alley door close as I turned to take the cyclist’s order.

L
ucas returned at five o’clock, just as my shift ended. He’d texted me earlier, telling me that he and Mom decided I had to wait until the end of the day to see their handiwork, because it was a surprise. True to his word, he wore painter’s pants, a torn T-shirt, and a bandana tied around his forehead. There was grease on his arms and paint splatters on his nose. It was surprisingly sexy.

“Wow,” I said. “How much is this day going to cost me?”

“You have no idea,” he said. “Even with your girlfriend discount, you’ll probably have to take out a loan.” He slanted me a wicked grin. “Or maybe we can work something else out.”

Liz emerged from Fairyland, a stack of books in her hands. She stopped short when she saw Lucas. “Oh my. What have you been up to?”

He shrugged. “Not rescuing people. Not helping out people I care about. Not much of anything, really.”

Liz looked between us and laughed. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” she said, “but I’d recommend a shower for one of you. Dinner for both of you.” She stage-whispered to me, “Somewhere romantic. With lots of candles.”

“What a genius idea. Darcy, you can drive.” Lucas tossed my keys over the counter and I caught them, barely.

“What about the shower?” I said.

“Go check out your new purple living room. Then pick me up at my place in an hour.” Lucas turned and headed for the front door. He stopped to look at me over his shoulder. “Don’t be late. I turn into a monster if I’m not fed regularly.”

“Maybe I prefer vampires.”

“You disappoint me,” he said, shaking his head in mock disgust. “I thought your tastes were more original.”

The door slammed behind him, but I knew he heard my laughter.

T
he living room wasn’t purple. The pale gray walls were soft and welcoming, and the molding and baseboards gleamed white. The colors made the pale pink stone around the fireplace glow, beckoning people to gather around it.

“This is amazing,” I breathed, looking around.

“We did good, didn’t we?” Mom agreed. I raised my eyebrows at her grammar. She giggled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her T-shirt and jeans were covered with paint splatters and her grin was huge, and proud.

How could I ever thank him? I knew he was kidding about payment, but I wished I could show him how much his time meant. I knew that I would’ve done the same for him, if I could. Maybe someday I could return all the favors I owed him.

I looked out the window to the barren trees outside. When something was given out of love, was it really a favor? Or was it simply a gift, given without expectation of anything in return? I knew the answer.

“He helped me paint for several hours.” Mom smiled at me. “He’s quite entertaining. And very sweet. I’d say you’re a lucky girl, but I think he’s lucky, too, to have found you.”

I blushed. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Mom said.

“What are you doing for dinner?” I suddenly felt guilty and anxious about leaving Mom alone tonight. “You could join us.”

Mom shook her head. “No way. You two deserve a night out without your pathetic mom tagging along. Besides, I have plans.”

That was a surprise. “Plans? With who?”

“Some new friends from my meetings. We’re having Thai food, then going bowling.”

My mouth dropped open. “Bowling? You? Do you even know how?”

“I think there’s a stick involved, right? And beanbags?”

Laughing, I tossed a rag at her. “You’re doomed.”

We washed the paintbrushes in the utility sink in the basement and left them to dry.

“I brought clothes and toiletries so I could shower here,” Mom said. “Since the sale goes until seven tonight.”

That was a good sign, Mom planning ahead. But I was still anxious. “You sure you’ll be okay tonight?” I asked. “Call me after bowling when you’re heading home. I’ll meet you there, so we can face the vulture pickings together.”

Mom pulled me into a hug. “Don’t worry. I feel like a new person today. This was what I needed, to get busy. You just enjoy your night with Lucas.” She released me from her hug. “Darcy, we haven’t talked about this for a long time, but make sure you’re using protection, okay? If you are having sex, I want you to be safe.”

“Mom!”

She frowned at me. “It’s my job to look out for you. I don’t mean to embarrass you, but—”

“Mom, stop. We’re not. Trust me, okay?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re not? Really?”
God. She was worse than Sal.

“This conversation is over. I have to pick up Lucas in half an hour.” I sighed and tugged at my hair. “You’re right about him, Mom. He’s very sweet. We’re not rushing things.”

She sighed, with what I assumed was relief. “Well, when the time does come—”

“Bye, Mom,” I hollered as I shot up the basement stairs like a rocket. “We’ll finish this conversation in our next lives.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

December 13

I
t was dark by the time Lucas and Mark drove away with the last load in my truck. Charlie drove the U-Haul, while Sal and Mom’s new recovery friends followed in their overflowing trucks and cars. We’d survived moving day, with the help of our new tribe.

Mom and I stayed behind to do one last sweep of the house to make sure we weren’t forgetting anything. We stood in the dining room, arms wrapped around each other, looking up at the chandelier no one had bought at the estate sale.

“I still feel like someone’s going to stab me whenever I look at it,” I said.

Mom laughed softly. “It wasn’t one of my better decisions.”

“But you like it,” I said. “That’s what matters. Are you bringing it with us?” I couldn’t see it in Mrs. Sandri’s cozy dining room.

Mom shook her head. “It stays with the house. It belongs here.”

I nodded. We both jumped when the doorbell rang, its chime echoing off the empty walls and floors. Toby ran to the door, skittering across the tile floors, his paws not used to the lack of rugs.

J.J. stood on the porch, his features harsh under the bright porch lights. I was shocked to see him. He was such a part of my old life that seeing him was like stepping back in time.

None of us spoke for several seconds.

“May I come in?” he asked.

Mom gestured him into the foyer.

“I know it’s a bad time,” he said, looking around at the empty rooms. He turned to Mom, his eyes full of sadness. “I’m so sorry, Marilyn. I never thought it would come to this.”

Mom nodded. “None of us did. But here we are.” She took a shaky breath and reached into her pocket, then held out a keychain. “I guess you’re here for these.”

He frowned. “That’s not why I’m here.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was peppered with much more gray than a few months ago. “I wanted to warn you before you see tomorrow’s news.”

“Is it Dad?” I whispered. “Have you heard from him?” Mom reached out for my hand. We gripped each other’s fingers tightly.

J.J. shook his head. “No. It’s Harvest. We’re officially declaring bankruptcy. Everyone is being laid off. A trustee will take over what little funds are left.”

I looked at Mom, who stood as still as a statue.

“So you’ve given up,” Mom said. “All of you have.”

J.J. sighed. “Haven’t you, Marilyn?” He threw out his arms, encompassing the empty house with his gesture. “There’s nothing left to hope for.”

Mom dropped her head.

“That’s not true.” The anger in my voice surprised me. “We can’t give up hope. He’s going to come home. Someday.”

J.J. shook his head, his face haggard and drawn. “Even if he does, what’s left for him now?”

Mom’s head snapped up. “
We
are, damn it. We’re still here.”

“Don’t you think he would’ve come home by now, if that was enough?”

The cruelty of his words shocked me. How could Dad’s friend say something so awful? “You should leave,” I said. “Now.”

He held out his hand and Mom dropped the keys into his upturned palm. His fingers closed around the keys and I felt like he’d just slammed the door on all our history together. The shared family trips to our cabin, to the Harvest company ski condo, the hours of babysitting I’d logged with his kids. All of it meant nothing to him.

“I’ll have our secretary call you for your new address, in case we need to send any more legal documents.”

“You do that,” Mom said, her voice falling like ice chips.

We watched him get into his Jag and drive away. Mom sagged against me and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

“He’s scared,” I said. “And angry. He’s lashing out at the wrong people.” I’d heard that from the TV shrink reruns I still watched when I couldn’t sleep. I’d learned some things besides the Lancelot rescue-hero complex. Like the signs of depression. I was pretty sure we’d missed or ignored all of them with Dad.

“I know,” Mom said, “but what if he’s right? What if we’re not enough?” She turned to face me. “I know I dismissed your idea of Dad chasing Stonehenge, but I’ve been hoping you were right. Hoping he was on some bizarre quest that would lead him home. Eventually.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” I said. “About where I think he is, and where he might go next.”

Mom bit her lip. “You really think you know where he is?”

“I’m not sure, but I think I have a decent guess.”

She swallowed, her hand at her throat. “Maybe…maybe I can hire a private investigator to find him, if you’re sure. You can’t go, Darcy. You can’t.”

I frowned but didn’t argue. The only person going on a hunt for my dad was me. But now wasn’t the best time to plead my case with Mom.

“Let’s go, Mom. We’ll talk about this later. Everyone’s waiting for us.” I forced a smile. “They probably already ate all the pizza.”

She took a deep breath and looked around one last time, her eyes drinking in the emptiness.

“Come on, Toby,” I called. He charged out the front door and down the steps toward Mom’s Volvo.

Mom walked through the doorway, tears glinting in her eyes. She squeezed my shoulder, then followed Toby.

I pulled the door closed behind us and didn’t look back.