Chapter Three
Jake and Daphne’s great room hums with conversation and laughter, with the sounds of utensils on plates and drinks being placed on tables. A bunch of guys cluster around the TV where a baseball game is playing on mute.
What seems like the majority of Whispering Pines’ thirty- and forty-somethings sit around the long dining room table or huddle at the kitchen island. Lara and the other kids already inhaled their ribs and chips and took their antics upstairs.
No one is looking in my direction as I return from the bathroom. This is my opportunity to slip outside for a breather. I need peace and quiet. I haven't been around this many childhood friends since I left Whispering Pines two decades ago.
We’ve been catching up, sort of. They fill me in on their lives, and I talk about how different LA is from Whispering Pines.
Nobody asks about Mark or the divorce. No one seems curious, or to give a damn, about how I’ve handled single motherhood.
They’ve all been wonderfully sympathetic about the fire without using the word arson.
I’ve gotten compliments galore on the pearl barley salad I brought, even though it turned out horribly.
I thought the challenge of cutting vegetables evenly and making an Italian dressing from scratch would be a good way to fill my time while I mentally sort through all the scenarios for rebuilding the retreat.
Or should I bother? Should we call it quits and move back to LA?
Turns out I was too distracted to cut anything evenly, and the amount of pepper in the dressing is criminal.
But it's edible, and I don't want anything to go to waste. I knew no one at Jake and Daphne’s barbecue was going to be impolite about the extra-spicy dressing. They may mention something to one another when I’m not around, but to my face, they’re all smiles.
Hell, I would’ve served it in LA, too. No one would do more than nibble. They’d barely taste the dressing thanks to whatever injections they’re on.
Not feeling any eyes on me, I slip out the side door to the deck. It’s about twenty-degrees cooler out here. Scents from the smoker and the grill linger on the crisp autumn air.
I sit on the porch swing. The night is still and quiet, but the cold is almost too much. If only I had a blanket and a beer or hot chocolate.
“Hey.”
A little miffed my peace has been disturbed, I turn toward the voice.
It’s Brady, the too-hot firefighter. We said hello when I first arrived. Then I did my catching up, and he went outside to barbecue with the guys. I checked for a wedding ring when we were eating. The finger was bare. He also didn’t seem to be with anyone.
Not that his status matters. I’m not looking for romance. I don’t need another person to take care of or another project to take on. But he made me break out in a full-body sex flush. That hasn't happened in ages.
The light from inside the house turns him into a broad silhouette with longish hair that looked fantastic hanging out from under the baseball cap he wore at T-ball practice. He folds his arms across his chest. He’s got on a soft-looking button-down that I’d bet smells like manly soap.
“I saw you leaving the party. I thought it might be okay to check in and see how you're doing?”
At the risk of playing with fire—or the nearly overwhelming urge to throw myself at Brady, I make room for him on the porch swing. “Thanks for coming out. Have a seat.”
Damn, just as I thought, he smells like rich, woodsy soap. He said he wanted to check in with me, but I'm tired of talking about me. I face handsome Brady. “You seem to know everyone in Whispering Pines.”
He nods. “It's possible.”
“The guys must worship you because you played professional baseball.”
“Nah, it’s because of my handsome looks and sparkling personality.”
I crack up at how he managed to deliver that line completely straight faced. “I still can’t believe you played baseball for the Sharks.”
“It was many years ago. I was in LA for about two years, one of which I was playing. The other I spent in physical therapy.”
“Where did you live?”
“I had a place in Newport Beach. It had an ocean view about the size of a pizza slice.”
“I love the beach towns. We were in Manhattan Beach. Our house was tiny. About a quarter of the size of Jake and Daphne’s. But there was one window on the second floor with an ocean view.”
“You must’ve spent all your time up there staring out the window.” Brady grins. It’s the first time I’ve seen him fully smile. It's big and bright, and teasing and flirting.
I can’t help breaking out in a smile of my own. “It was in the spare bedroom. We never went in there.”
We talk about beach life in LA and our favorite restaurants and hiking in the hills.
“You must miss it,” Brady says.
“Some things I miss. Like the beach.” We moan together like everyone who’s had to leave a Southern California beach town.
“But it was time for Lara to begin elementary school. I knew if I was going to make the move to Whispering Pines, now was the best time to do it. And the B&B came up for sale, which seemed like the universe telling me to go ahead with the digital detox retreat. Although it doesn’t feel like the universe is saying that now. ”
“Were you in the digital detox retreat business in LA?”
“No, far from it.” I tell Brady about how I got into the wholesale cosmetics business and how using social media to promote my business led to becoming a social media consultant.
“The digital detox retreat is something I've wanted to do for a while.
Going through the divorce and watching Lara learn about the world around her made me rethink a lot of things.
What kind of life do I want for Lara? And myself?
Do I want to embrace artificial intelligence and keep up with ever-evolving technologies?
Scale my business, take out loans, and be stuck forever in that cycle?
“Or do I want relationships that aren’t dependent on cell phones?
Do I want meaningful work that helps people rediscover the beauty of the natural world and the importance of human connection?
” I glance at Brady to see if he thinks I’m full of fluff.
He doesn’t have the faintest snicker. “So, we came back to Whispering Pines.”
“It’s a bold move.” Brady says, nodding. “And a smart one. I think the digital detox is something a lot of people want.”
“I hope so. I’m going to keep going with the retreat, despite the fire. The terms of my insurance policy mean that I benefit more from keeping it going.” I feel my shoulders fall with the realization. “I really want to make it happen.”
“I bet you will.” There's nothing patronizing in the way he says it. He sounds like he genuinely believes it’s possible.
Dang, I like the impression I've made on him. I like the impression he's made on me. But he's got if only guy written all over him. If only we'd met earlier or later, if only in another place, among other people, we could’ve been a pretty hot couple.
“How about you?” I angle to face him, and my inside flutter. That chest. Those shoulders and upper arms. He fills his navy button-down with unapologetic fireman muscles. Right now, I’d give anything to make his arms my home.
“How did you end up in Whispering Pines?” I try to sound like I’m making light conversation. But I have a powerful desire to know everything about him.
The back door swings open. We turn toward Daphne walking over to the swing. “You two need to come inside. Gunnar is about to play. Sammy, have you heard him play?”
“It’s been a while.” I meet Brady’s eyes. “Shall we?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
When Daphne opens the door, Gunnar is settling into a chair with a guitar. Seated next to him is his wife, who isn’t from Whispering Pines. She balances a fiddle on her thigh while she and Gunnar talk in low voices. They look like they’re in sync in every way.
I love that for Gunnar. He found his person. I love that there’s love like that in the world. Maybe it’s not for me. I tried. I failed. But they got it, and that gives me hope for Lara. I want her to know that kind of devotion exists.
“Where were you?” Lara asks, appearing between Brady and I.
“Outside talking to a friend.”
She looks up at Brady. “Coach Brady’s your friend?” Her eyes sparkle. “That’s so cool.”
Friendship is a good place for Brady and I. Eventually, I’ll get over wanting to jump his bones. Then we’ll be like Jake and I. When we were in high school, he made me feel things I didn’t know were possible.
Like orgasms, then multiple orgasms. After a while, the sparks fizzled. I had priorities in other places. He had Whispering Pines. We moved on, and now we’re friends.
Brady and I get to start and finish as friends. What could be better than that?
Hot sex with a hot fireman who seems to like listening to you?
Not in this lifetime.
Lara tugs Brady and I to some empty chairs at the dining room table. Gunnar and his wife are crazy talented. They have us singing along and clapping and cheering. Brady gets us another round of beers, and we drink while couples get up to dance.
Lara drags me to the center of the room for a line dance I’ve never seen before. “Get over here,” I mouth at Brady, gesturing for him to join us. He’s one of the few people in the room still sitting.
He finishes his beer and comes over to where Lara and I are dancing. Gunnar and his wife break into Cotton-Eyed Joe and everyone scream-sings along.
Brady and I dance and sing at the top of our lungs. Daphne takes Lara’s hands, and the two of them spin around while my beautiful daughter squeals with delight.
We’re safe and happy, and there’s so much joy around us and within us.
“This is a blast,” I yell to Brady, trying to make myself heard above the riot.
“Sure is.” He’s grinning ear to ear.
This is why we came to Whispering Pines.
And it’s why we’re staying. Despite the arson and the constant, low-level gossip and the forced politeness that’s tiresome and annoying, I’m going to make this work.