chapter 5
Sloane typed Clifford Jackson’s name into Google and pulled up several more articles. But they all said essentially the same
thing as the one that’d caught her attention while she was sitting at her desk eating the lunch she’d grabbed from the Thai
place next door. They showed a picture of Charlotte with Julian outside a restaurant in Los Angeles, stated that Clifford
Jackson and his wife were separating and speculated that both of them were already seeing other people.
Charlotte and Cliff had split up? How could that be? Charlotte had been so committed to him!
The phone rang and her brother’s name popped up on her screen. Julian was calling her back. Rory was still out to lunch, which
meant she was running the store alone, but she didn’t have any customers.
She hit the green button. “Julian, what’s going on? It’s all over the internet that Charlotte and Cliff are no longer together.
Is that true?”
“I’m afraid it is,” he replied. “We’re in her car right now. Want me to put the phone on speaker?”
“Of course.”
When Charlotte spoke, she sounded subdued. “Hey, Sloane.”
“Char, are you okay?” Their last conversation had been over a year ago, and it hadn’t gone well. Sloane had called to see
if Charlotte would be interested in meeting her in San Francisco for a “girls’ weekend,” but Cliff had decided he didn’t want
her to go, even though he’d be out of town himself. The fact that Charlotte wouldn’t fight him on it made Sloane mad. Cliff
rarely let them see each other. And if Charlotte was going to allow him to stand between them, there was nothing Sloane could
do to maintain the friendship.
“I feel like roadkill right now,” Charlotte said. “But I’d be a lot worse off if Jules wasn’t here.”
“What’d Cliff do?” she demanded.
“He told me he wanted a divorce.”
“Why?”
“That part isn’t entirely clear.”
Sloane remembered the picture she’d seen of Cliff with another woman while googling his name to learn more. “It’s not because
of Marija Vidmar, is it?”
“You saw that picture?”
“I’ve been digging for details ever since the first article popped up.”
“It could be. They looked pretty cozy—don’t you think? But the only thing he’ll say is that he doesn’t want to be married
anymore.”
Sloane winced. “Do you think it’s over for good?”
There was a slight hesitation, but then Charlotte said, “I do.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she said. “I know I wasn’t the friend I should’ve been while I was married to him. I just . . . I was trying so
hard to keep him happy. I really wanted to make our marriage work. And maybe I compromised too often. Actually, I did compromise too often.”
Little good it’d done her. Sloane wanted to say as much. But she couldn’t pile on. Her best friend had been hurt, and that
made her too defensive to worry about her own complaints over the last few years. “He’s such a douchebag. Not because he wanted out, but because he was downright controlling while you were together. So what are you
going to do from here? Where will you live?”
“I’ll probably stay with my parents for the time being. It doesn’t feel great to be home again at this age. It’s like being
sent back to the starting point of life. But I don’t have the mental energy to do anything else. I have to write my next book.
It’s due in three months.”
“And are you pretty far along?” Sloane asked hopefully.
There was a pause, then Charlotte said, “Not really.”
“What does that mean? How many more pages do you have to go?”
“Like . . . four hundred.”
“Four hundred? That’s basically the whole novel!”
“Yeah. And I have to come up with an idea before I can start.”
“Oh, my God!” Sloane said. “Char, what can I do to help? Do you need me to come to California? I can see if Rory will cover
the store.”
“No, definitely not. I could never ask you to leave your husband and your business, especially when I’m the only one who can
get me out of this jam.”
Sloane couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed. The business could take all the time and energy she had to give it, but
she needed a chance to get her own head together. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. But . . .” Charlotte’s voice grew wobbly. “I love you. I’m sorry I neglected you and Jules. You two are the
ones who really care about me.”
“Don’t apologize,” Sloane said. “That’s the last thing you have to worry about.”
“I’ve told her that,” Julian piped up.
“He’s right,” Sloane told Charlotte. “You’re going to get through this, you know. And if Cliff gives you any trouble, you
just tell me.” She’d love to give that man a piece of her mind and say all the things she wished Charlotte had said but didn’t.
“I’ll get through it,” Charlotte echoed. “Anyway, enough about me. How are you?”
Sloane wished she could answer honestly. The truth sat on her chest like a giant anvil, almost crushing her to death. But
now was not the time. Maybe the right time would never come.
Drawing a deep breath, she injected more energy into her voice as she said, “I’m doing great. Everything over here is . . .
just great.”
“Is the business taking off the way you’d hoped?”
Cliff probably didn’t know it, but she’d supplied a lot of the furnishings for his house. She’d traded hundreds of photos
and ideas with Charlotte right after Cliff bought their mansion, so she’d had a big hand in the interior design. She’d had
fun with it. Sloane knew Charlotte liked her style. She also knew Charlotte had been trying to help her get her design business
started, and she was grateful for that, even though she’d been disappointed in how things had gone between them since. “I
don’t know if you could say it’s ‘taking off.’ That remains to be seen. But we’re building a good client base, and this has
been a great month, thanks to an article that was printed in a local magazine.”
“Send me a copy of it,” Charlotte said. “I’d like to see it.”
“I will.” She shoved the empty containers from her lunch into the sack. “Jules, your calls and texts have been pretty scarce
lately. How’s it going with Mom and Dad?”
“I’ve just been here working my fingers to the bone, doing your share as well as mine.”
Sloane smiled as she got up to toss the bag in the wastebasket. “You’re the one who insisted on taking care of them,” she reminded him.
He chuckled. “I know. They’re doing great. Dad even has a new butt pillow, thanks to Charlotte.”
Sloane returned to her seat. “Charlotte, you gave Jerry a butt pillow?”
“I know. It’s kind of weird,” Charlotte said. “But I was in the drugstore picking up something for a headache when I saw it
and couldn’t resist. I thought it might make a big difference, since he sits behind a desk most of the day.”
“Oh, he’s going to love it!” she said with a laugh.
“Just so you know, Char, we’re going to pretend our mom bought it,” Julian said. “Hope that’s okay.”
“I actually feel more comfortable going in that direction,” she said and laughed with them.
For a moment, it felt like old times. Sloane had missed her best friend. She’d missed her best friend’s brother, too. And
California! She’d moved to Seattle for Ben’s sake; this was where he’d been offered the best job when he got out of pharmacy
school.
If only she wanted children—then maybe her marriage wouldn’t feel so precarious, and she wouldn’t question whether she’d launched
the business in the wrong city.
At work, Ben was usually too busy to think about anything but prescriptions. But on this unusually slow day, the feeling that
something wasn’t right with Sloane crept in again. The longer they were married, the more remote and distracted she seemed
to be. Sometimes he’d let the door slam before speaking, and she’d still startle when she heard his voice as if she’d been
so deep in the well of her own thoughts she hadn’t even realized he was there.
Something was wrong. He was certain of that. But what?
He’d asked her several times, but she always gave him that determined smile of hers and insisted it was nothing. Or that she
was just worried about work. It wasn’t as if he thought she was having an affair. She was always with Rory, and Rory had a
husband. Besides, she’d shown no signs of having another man in her life. She came home after work, wasn’t remotely guarded
with her phone and was always where she should be.
Was it about money? He brought home a good paycheck, but he was carrying a lot of student debt, plus housing in Seattle was
expensive and the money they’d invested in the store didn’t leave them with a lot of extra. She could be stressed about their
finances, feeling as though the store wasn’t going to make it . . .
It wasn’t easy starting a new business, especially in an industry that was so sensitive to the state of the economy and whether
people had discretionary income. But Sloane was an exceptional designer. If anyone could make it in that field, he believed
she could. Their home was a beautiful example. It looked like something out of a magazine even though she’d had to decorate
it on a budget. No one knew how to put things together quite like she did. She could make even garage sale finds look stylish.
But he was losing her. He just couldn’t figure out why.
The bell rang, signaling that someone had come to the pharmacy at the back of the store to pick up a prescription. Sandra,
the middle-aged woman who worked the same schedule he did and typically handled the register, was out sick today, and there’d
been no one who could come in to replace her, so he walked around the tall shelving that usually hid him from view. “Can I
help you?” he asked a young woman waiting with an older gentleman who was in a wheelchair.
“We’re here to pick up my father’s blood pressure medication,” the woman replied.
Ben got the man’s name and started digging through the bins filled with sacks of medication that’d been alphabetized by customer.
“Here we go,” he said when he found it. “You already know how to take this, right?” he asked the man.
“Oh, yes.” His daughter spoke for him. “He’s been on it for years.”