Chapter 11
Opinion: In order to be a master salesman, you must be a good liar.
—Delilah Dune, opinion writer
L yla looked around her parents’ home and put herself in a new buyer’s shoes. What would they see when they walked in the front door?
The showing was only an hour from now. Lyla was supposed to make herself scarce while the potential buyers were here with their real estate agent. Lyla would prefer to stay, but she understood. The potential buyers might want to complain about the water stain on the ceiling from last week’s leak or the dent in the door that Lyla was pretty sure Travis had created when they were teenagers. So instead of being a fly on the wall, she had plans to meet Allison in town to go shopping.
Shopping was Lyla’s least favorite activity, but she was Travis’s date to his sister’s upcoming wedding, and she couldn’t very well wear jeans.
Opinion: People who claim shopping is their hobby need better hobbies.
Lyla pressed her palm against her face. She was so fired. Her next opinion piece was going to be the end of “Delilah’s Delusions.” Her ideas were getting worse by the second.
The doorbell rang, and Lyla gave herself one more glance in the mirror. She was wearing a pair of black shorts with a casual white shirt.
“Hey,” Lyla said when she opened the door, expecting to see Allison. Instead, Ms. Hadley stood there, holding the bag from Bean Time Coffee. No one had answered when Lyla rang her neighbor’s doorbell earlier so Lyla had left the bag hanging on Ms. Hadley’s doorknob. “Ms. Hadley. How are you?”
“What’s this?” Ms. Hadley held up the bag from Bean Time.
“Um. Well, it’s your favorite. That’s what the shop owner told me, at least.”
“Is this one of those pranks of yours? I hate raspberry filling.” She wagged a finger in the air. “Aren’t you too old for that kind of childish mess you used to pull, putting awful things in my mailbox?”
Lyla’s face felt like all the blood in her body had rushed into her cheeks. “The store owner, Eric, said . . .”
Ms. Hadley pushed the bag of bear claws into Lyla’s hands, forcing her to take them. “You probably put something extra in that filling too. My memory is as sharp as ever. I haven’t forgotten about the snake skins in my mailbox.”
“That was Travis,” Lyla said quietly.
“You are who you hang out with. That’s not opinion. That’s fact. Add that to that silly column of yours.”
Silly column? “Ms. Hadley, I sincerely apologize for whatever I did to you and even the stuff I didn’t do. These bear claws were a peace offering. I thought you’d like them and maybe—I don’t know. Maybe we’d have a fresh start.”
Ms. Hadley looked around as if searching for some nasty response to put Lyla in her place. Then she reached out and yanked the bag of bear claws back from Lyla’s hands. “You didn’t put anything extra in these?”
“No.” Lyla shook her head. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”
Ms. Hadley narrowed her eyes, looking suspicious. Then she nodded. “Okay then. I do like raspberry. Eric knows me well.”
Lyla didn’t dare ask why her neighbor had said the opposite just moments before. “Wonderful. Well, enjoy them.”
“I will.” She gave Lyla a long look. “It’s good of you to help your parents with this house. I know they appreciate it.”
“I hope I can help, at least. They deserve this trip.” Especially since the last vacation they’d tried to go on had been ruined by Lyla.
Without another word, Ms. Hadley turned and headed back across the yard with her bear claws that she may or may not hate.
Before Lyla shut the front door, Allison’s sporty car turned into the driveway with a high-pitched beep-beep .
The driver’s side door flew open and Allison got out. She was practically glowing as she walked toward the porch. Allison was always smiling. It was her mask. This current smile, however, was worlds different from the normal one. It reflected in her eyes and made her look ten years younger.
Opinion: Love is the true fountain of youth.
Lyla was a touch jealous. And curious. Who was this mystery guy that Allison was hiding? “Hey! Thanks for picking me up.”
“Of course. No sense in us both burning up gas. Plus, if I drive, you can’t get tired and ditch me after thirty minutes,” Allison said.
Something in Allison’s tone gave Lyla pause. “Has someone done that to you before?”
“Ernie.” Allison rolled her eyes, but her good mood didn’t budge. “Come on. A girls’ shopping trip is one of my favorite pastimes.”
Lyla locked up the front door and followed Allison down the driveway, rethinking her former opinion about shopping being a hobby.
New Opinion: A shopping trip between friends is good medicine.
Lyla walked around the car and slid into the passenger seat of Allison’s little Jetta, releasing a long, drawn-out sigh.
Allison glanced over, concern pinching the skin between her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Ha, where do I start?” Lyla muttered before remembering Allison’s tragic past. Then she felt guilty. She had no right to feel bad about any area of her life. She hadn’t been through nearly as much as Allison had, and Allison wasn’t sitting here complaining.
“Stop that.” Allison looked in the rearview mirror and slowly backed out of the drive.
“Stop what?”
“Stop thinking you can’t be honest with me about what’s bothering you just because I lost two children.” She put the car in drive and glanced over. “You can be honest with me, even if you’re just complaining about a broken nail. That’s what friends are for.”
Lyla let that thought sink in as the car picked up speed. “I’m trying to come up with my next topic for an opinion piece. My opinions have been so boring. I think I’m having a midlife crisis.”
Allison shook her head. “You’re only thirty.”
“Maybe that’s considered midlife to some.”
“No. Fifties are midlife. I mean, please, with all the advances in medicine? And I’m sure your opinions aren’t as boring as you think.”
Lyla pressed her lips together, resisting telling anyone just how much her impressive career was tanking. “My boss told me that this next piece will determine if my column gets to continue.”
Allison’s eyes rounded. “You have a national column. I thought you were super successful.”
“I thought I was too. Funny how success can just crumble and all your hard work can be easily forgotten.”
“Kind of like a relationship. You think it’s going perfectly and then, boom. You realize it wasn’t as solid as you thought. A tragedy should bring two people closer, right?”
Guilt knotted Lyla’s gut. Here she went again talking about things that didn’t ultimately matter in comparison to Allison losing her family.
As the silence stretched between them, Allison sighed. “I brought up my sob story and made everything awkward, sorry. I didn’t mean to. This is why no one likes to shop with me anymore. And why no one shows up to my Dinnerware Parties.” Allison shook her head while keeping her eyes on the road. “People don’t know how to act around me. Maybe they think I might break down. Or I might discuss things they’re uncomfortable hearing. I guess it’s just sad, coming to my home where pictures of my children are still hanging up everywhere. I mean—”
Lyla cut her off. “If those people disappear on you, then you don’t need those people in your life. You should be allowed to say or do whatever you like and still have your friends by your side. You should keep your kids’ photos up and not apologize for it.” Lyla reached over and briefly touched Allison’s arm. “There’s an idea for an opinion piece. Real friends don’t disappear when times get tough. Or awkward. I enjoy being at your house and your company. I promise to come to every Dinnerware Party that you invite me to.”
“It’s fine, honestly. Dinnerware Parties are for people who actually cook anyway.”
“I cook. Just not very well,” Lyla said.
They both burst into laughter. It felt good for the soul. Lyla couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like this. Or the last time she’d had a true friend. That’s what Allison was becoming.
Allison pulled her car into a parking space and cut off the engine. “Ready to shop?”
“Confession: I’ve never done the whole shopping-with-girlfriends kind of thing. I might not be good at it.”
Allison rolled her eyes and pushed her car door open. “It’s not a skill. It’s just the two of us hanging out, and you benefiting from my amazing fashion sense.”
Lyla pushed her passenger door open. “Sounds good to me.” She’d take all the help she could get in that area.
An hour and a half later, Lyla had tried on nothing short of a dozen dresses.
“You look fabulous in that one,” Allison said, still beaming.
“You’re lying, because you’re tired of watching me go in and out of the dressing room.”
Allison shook her head. “Not true. I am ready for a frozen yogurt though. Here”—she stood and pointed to her chair—“you sit and I’ll go pick out the perfect dress for you. Whatever I bring over, you have to try on. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“Whatever you bring over, I have to try on?” Lyla repeated as a question.
“Exactly. It’ll be fun. What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity, for one.” Lyla plopped down in the chair where Allison had been seated and served up her best pouty face. “Fine. Go forth and find the perfect dress that will make me look incredibly sexy for Bailey’s wedding.”
Allison lifted a questioning brow. “Sexy, huh? I thought you said you and Travis were just friends.” She didn’t wait for Lyla’s rebuttal. Instead, she disappeared into the vast selection of dress clothes.
While she waited, Lyla leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She’d forgotten how tiring shopping could be. It was also exhausting to care about how she looked. She’d gotten comfortable enough in her relationship with Joe, to the point where she didn’t have to spend hours on hair, makeup, and finding the perfect clothing to wear. Those things were for the newly dating couples. Lyla hadn’t exactly let herself go. She’d just relaxed. Maybe too much.
Opinion: Getting comfortable is a relationship’s death sentence.
Now there’s an opinion that would spark heated reader feedback. Maybe not the kind Bob was looking for.
“Okay, I’ve found some amazing dresses for you to try on,” Allison said, reappearing ten minutes later.
Lyla opened her eyes and looked at the dresses that Allison held up. One for every color of the rainbow. “I’m not a colorful person. I can’t wear those.”
Allison shoved the dresses toward her. “You promised. Now shut up and try them on.”
Lyla firmly believed in keeping her word, even if she thought it might mean losing her dignity. There’d only been one instance when she hadn’t kept her word, when she’d promised to keep in touch with Travis. Lyla took the dresses and stood. “Okay, but you’re not taking any pictures.”
Allison took the seat and made a shooing motion toward the dressing room. “Just go.”
Reluctantly, Lyla headed toward the fitting room and hooked the dresses on the back of the door, one at a time, inwardly cringing as she assessed each one. She tried on all seven dresses, saving the worst for last.
Allison pressed both hands to her mouth when Lyla stepped out of the dressing room wearing the seventh dress. “You are a knockout in that dress!”
Lyla turned back to look in the mirror, angling her body back and forth. Then she looked down at herself. “Wow. It looks different on me than it did on the rack. I didn’t think this dress would work, but I actually kind of love it.” The dress was pale yellow with little white daisies in the print, so small that they looked like pin dots until you inspected the fabric at close range. The fabric tapered at the waist and at the knees, giving her an hourglass figure that she didn’t think she still had. It was sweet but also sexy. Very sexy. It was a dress she never would have picked out for herself, in a color she never would have considered. She preferred monochrome colors. But now that this little yellow dress was on her, she kind of loved it.
“Travis is going to lose his mind if you go to the wedding in that dress. Now you need some strappy heels to lengthen your legs.” Allison clapped her hands excitedly in front of her. “Oh, this is so much fun!”
Lyla was surprised that she agreed. This was fun. Much more than she’d anticipated. Who was she, and where was the real Lyla Dune?
By the time Allison dropped Lyla back off at her parents’ house, Lyla had spent way more money than she’d intended, but it would all be worth it when she stepped out with Travis, feeling fantastic. After what had happened with her ex, her confidence needed the boost.
“Looks like the potential buyers have left,” Allison said of the empty driveway. “I hope they loved the place.”
“Me too.” Although something inside Lyla also ached at the possibility. This was the home where she’d grown up. Once it sold, she could never return. Everything was changing lately, even her. Pushing the car door open, she dipped back in to look at Allison across the center console. “Do you want to have coffee tomorrow morning, or are you expecting your mystery man for another sleepover tonight?”
Allison’s cheeks blushed. “Coffee tomorrow sounds great. I’ll make muffins in my new Dinnerware muffin tin.”
“Dinnerware sells breakfast ware?” Lyla asked.
“Of course. Haven’t you ever heard of breakfast for dinner?” Allison beamed. “That was my kids’ favorite.”
Lyla felt slightly uncomfortable at the mention of Allison’s children, but only because she didn’t know what to say. Allison apparently didn’t need her to say anything. “See you then, okay?”
“See you then.” Lyla closed the car door and headed up her driveway, stopping in her tracks when something flashed in her peripheral vision. A firefly? She stood, waiting for another flash of light. It could have been her imagination. Or the sun glinting off the taillights of her own vehicle. Just as she was about to look away and continue up the steps, the light flashed again. It was a firefly.
Lyla laughed quietly to herself. There was something so magical about those little sparks of light. Since when did she believe in magic? Not since she was a kid, at least. Back then, everything had felt magical. Something about adulthood vacuumed up that unworldly sense.
Her brain chewed on that revelation, trying to twist it into some sort of opinion Bob would approve of. Lost in thought, she continued up the porch steps, unlocked the door, and started to step inside, stopping short as water squished inside her shoes. “Oh. No.”
Confused, Lyla stared down at the shallow puddle of water on the living room floor. As she glanced around and assessed the situation, she realized the water was everywhere. Trudging down the hall, she headed in the direction of the closest bathroom where the water was deeper by at least an inch or more. What in the world?
She wasn’t a plumber by any means, but she opened the bottom cabinet of the sink and easily saw the problem. The pipe had burst and water was gushing out. No-o-o-o-o. Had the real estate agent and potential buyers done this? Had this happened when they were here?
Lyla rushed to grab the towels that her mom had left out for her and wrapped them around the leaky pipe. They would soak through quickly though. Then what? She needed a handyman ASAP. She needed Travis.
July 31
Dear Diary,
I ruined my mother’s life—again! First, she fell in love with my dad and got pregnant with me, effectively halting Mom’s plans for college and a life beyond Echo Cove. Now, my mom and dad are on the vacation of my mom’s dreams and they have to come home because of my stupidity.
All I did was knock over a container of blue hair gel on my way to go off with Travis. It poured into the sink, clogged the pipes, and somehow flooded the entire house. Not the entire house, but ugh. This is turning out to be the worst summer of my life. Can I just leave for college already? Please?
Lyla