Dirty Little Midlife Disaster by Lilian Monroe
Candice
My sister looks flushed.My mother looks delighted. They walk to the display counter together and Trina gives me a pleading look.
“Coffee?” I ask.
“Please.” She glances at her kids, who are sitting at one of the tables. There’s a half-eaten muffin between them. Toby is playing a game on a tablet while Katie quietly works her way through a coloring book. Trina shifts her gaze to our mother. “Where’s the cat?”
“At the house, in the spare bedroom, with a litter box, a scratching post, food, and water. The vet said he’s healthy, and we gave him his first round of shots. No microchip, didn’t match any of the missing posters, likely a stray. But enough about the cat. Who was that man?”
I fight a smile just as the café door opens and my own man strides through. Blake is a movie star in the outside world, but in Heart’s Cove, he’s just Blake. He gives me a broad smile before glancing at my sister’s face, then changing course to hook an arm around my mother’s shoulders. “Lottie, you’re looking lovely this morning. Did you change your hair?”
“Oh, stop it.” She swats at Blake’s chest. “You know I haven’t.”
He winks at me, then gently directs my mother toward the kids’ table…and away from Trina.
My sister lets out a long sigh and leans against the counter. “I think I just fell in love with Blake for that.”
I laugh. “He’s surprisingly perceptive.”
She looks back at me. “How’s the house design going?”
“The architects are taking their time responding to our comments,” I answer. “They have this ultra-modern vision, but both Blake and I want something a bit more subtle. I think it’ll take a while to get the plans approved.” I glance at my sister. “But I heard back from the construction manager at my house, and it looks like they’ll have the last of the fire and smoke damage fixed up within three weeks. You’ll be able to move in before the start of the school year.”
Trina accepts the coffee that Sven, our barista, hands her over the counter and takes a deep breath as she cups it close to her face. She shakes her head. “Are you sure you’re okay with Mom and me moving into your house? You want to stay in the rental you’re in with Blake and Allie?”
I shrug. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
My house caught fire three months ago. The damage was localized, but I still had to move to a rental with my teenage daughter, Allie. That was right around the time I met Blake…and right around the time he decided he wanted to stay in town. Now we’re living in a small, two-bedroom rental while the design of the new house on the coast gets finalized. Blake bought the property and told me he was staying, and he’d wait however long it took for me to realize we belonged together.
Swoon.
Thankfully, I came to my senses pretty quickly. I keep thinking Blake is going to wake up and realize he’s happier in his swanky Beverly Hills mansion, but he keeps waking up and telling me that Heart’s Cove feels like the only home he’s ever had.
It’s the fastest relationship I’ve ever been in, but it feels like I’ve known him my whole life. It feels right.
So Trina, her kids, and our mother will move into my old house when the repairs are done. I’m ready to move on, and I know my sister needs some stability right now. I’m happy to give it to her.
“Have you heard from the lawyer?” I ask.
Trina sips her coffee and nods. “This morning. Kevin signed.”
I arch my brows. “It’s all done? After all his talk about never signing divorce papers?”
Trina leans a hip against the counter and plays with the edge of her cup with her thumb. “I thought he was going to take his time. Drag it out. He kept complaining about giving me any money even though we had two kids together and he was the main breadwinner ever since his paintings took off.”
“But you supported him with two jobs for the first four years of your relationship.” I frown. “His paintings didn’t even sell until a couple of years ago. You were the one who introduced him to the gallery manager who gave him his first big show.”
Trina grimaces. “I don’t know if that’s exactly how Kevin remembers it. He’s made a few speeches about bootstraps.”
I roll my eyes. “He would never have been successful without you. You did his bookkeeping for years. You bought all his supplies until he could support himself. That asshole owes you.”
“That’s what my lawyer says,” Trina replies. “That’s probably why Kevin decided to sign the papers. I haven’t asked for anything excessive. Just child support and a fair settlement. He gets to keep the house, the cars, everything. And he was all too willing to sign off on me moving here with the kids. It’s like he wanted us out of his hair, which I guess worked out for me.”
My brows lower and I glance over at Blake. We don’t have kids together, but I can’t imagine him doing that. Cheating on me. Kicking me out of the house…or letting me leave without even trying to fix it.
But Kevin isn’t Blake, and maybe this is for the best.
My sister lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s fine. I’m glad it’s done. I don’t want to turn bitter. Honestly, with the kids and the move and starting at a new school and everything, I’m glad he signed the papers. I just want this to be over.”
“Oh, Trina.” I reach across the counter and squeeze her hand.
Her eyes drift to our mother, who’s still safely on the other side of the café and unable to lay into the thousand and one questions I’m sure she has for Trina. Which reminds me—
“What’s up with the motorcycle man?”
She jumps. “Huh?”
“Katrina.” I cross my arms and pop a brow.
“What?” is her angelic response.
“You rode in here on a Harley so loud it made the windows shake, then looked at the hot, leather-clad rider like he just made your whole life. Then he looked at you like you were the hottest little thing he’d ever seen.You did that. My stylish, high-maintenance sister was riding a motorcycle.”
“High maintenance?” Her voice squeaks. “Who are you calling high maintenance?” She uses a manicured hand to flick her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. Even after a motorcycle ride, her hair looks like she just walked off a photo shoot.
My sister is many things…and high maintenance is definitely one of them.
I don’t mean it as a bad thing. It’s actually one of the things I admire most about her. She’s unapologetically girly. She takes care of herself—always has. She’s always loved clothing and fashion and pampering. Look at this morning! Mom told me she was going to pick up the car, and she’s standing in front of me in figure-hugging jeans, a simple white tank top, and enough silver bangles that she sounds like a wind chime when she sips her coffee. She’s wearing smudged eyeliner, mascara, and a bit of blush across her cheeks. She looks edgy and cool and totally not like a hungover person doing the walk of shame to their car in the pub parking lot.
No wonder Mr. Motorcycle looked like he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her to his lair.
I grin at her outrage. “You know you’re not low maintenance, Trina.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” a voice calls out from the doorway. Dorothy and Margaret, the elderly twin ladies who own the town hotel, are standing at the entrance, hands on their hips.
Margaret cocks a brow. “I’ve been called high maintenance all my life, and always take it as a compliment.” She pats her perfectly coiffed hair with an elegant hand, her silk blouse and pressed salmon-colored trousers adding to the overall effect.
Her sister, Dorothy, is the wild child of the two, with long silver hair braided over her shoulder and a leopard-print wrap dress. Different style, but no less stylish. She nods at Margaret’s words and tuts at me.
I just grin and jerk my chin at Sven, who starts making coffee.
Dorothy glides toward Trina and hooks her arm through my sister’s elbow. “Now, you’re next, mm?”
Trina frowns. “What?”
“Your motorcycle man.” She beams.
Trina, looking slightly freaked that Dorothy already knows about her escapades this morning, shoots me a panicked glance.
I just laugh. She’ll get used to this town quick enough.
Dorothy leans her head against Trina’s. “He’s going to sweep you off your feet and ride off into the sunset with you. First Fiona, then Simone, then Candice, now you! We just need to get Jen and Fallon to stop messing around, and everyone will live happily ever after!”
Trina wrinkles her nose, and for a brief moment looks exactly like her daughter, Katie. “I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters, Dorothy.”
“Oh, that’s just the divorce talking.” Dorothy waves a hand. “Look at Candice. She was mopey for years!”
Um, excuse me? Mopey? “My husband died, Dorothy,” I deadpan.
Dorothy ignores me. “Lottie!” She crosses the café to go kiss my mother on both cheeks, then takes her time hugging Blake, squeezing his shoulders, kissing both of his cheeks, patting his hair, stroking his arm…
I grin and shake my head while Margaret studies Trina.
“You okay?” Margaret asks quietly.
Trina nods. “Yeah. Fine. But I’ll probably need a new car in the not-too-distant future.”
“Get that good-for-nothing ex-husband of yours to pay for it.” The older woman harrumphs, and I hide my grin while she orders a coffee.
Then, like a hurricane, Simone and Fiona—the two women who co-own the café along with me and Jen—blow through the door. Simone pumps a fist in the air. “Fiona’s venue just confirmed! She’s getting married to the man of her dreams at the old cannery on the coast! It’s happening on the first of December, and we’re going to have the best time!” She squeals and throws an arm around Fiona’s waist, leading the laughing woman to the counter.
My mother jumps up to congratulate Fiona, who’s already being smothered by Dorothy and Margaret.
Trina glances at me, a sad smile playing over her lips.
Then Jen appears in the doorway to the kitchen. “Have you decided on a cake flavor yet, or what?”
“Oh, give her a break, Jen!” Simone calls out, laughing as Dorothy hugs her tight. “You made my wedding cake in twenty-four hours! You have like a million weeks to do this one. You’re a master baker. You can do it!”
Jen purses her lips, but I think it’s mostly to stop from smiling. As congratulations are exchanged and coffees are made, I drift closer to my best friend and the most talented baker I’ve ever met. “You okay?” I ask Jen. “What’s going on with your recipe book?”
“Amanda is coming back next week to go through the recipes I have so far.” Her lips twist, and her eyes dart back to the kitchen. Fallon, our amazing chef, dances around the space like he was born to make food for people. When Jen looks at me, she lets out a long sigh.
Amanda works in publishing, and she happens to be Fallon’s ex-girlfriend. With Jen agreeing to work with her, she’s basically torpedoing whatever budding romance was occurring between her and Fallon. Now Amanda visits Heart’s Cove on the regular, and everyone can see the way she looks at Fallon. I don’t blame Jen for stepping back.
“You don’t know that they’ll end up back together, Jen.”
She gives me a quick, jerky nod. “Yeah. Whatever. Better get back to work.”
“Let’s have a celebratory dinner! Our place,” Simone calls out. “Everyone’s invited. Wes will fire up the grill.” She beams at me, then shifts her eyes to Trina. “And don’t think you’re getting off without telling us all about your motorcycle ride this morning, Trina. You’re one of us now. That means you got beans, you spill ‘em.”
Trina gapes. “How in the world do you know about my motorcycle ride? It happened a few minutes ago!”
Simone taps the side of her nose. “Welcome to Heart’s Cove, honey.”
I just laugh, and Dorothy lets out a loud squeal of her own. “I almost forgot! The pottery master class is going ahead on Monday.” She looks me, Fiona, Simone, and finally Trina in the eyes. “You’re all coming. Monday, eleven o’clock in the morning.” She points a finger at Trina. “And I know the kids will be at their day camp every day next week, so you have no excuse.”
Trina’s shoulders drop. She bites her lip. “Look…pottery? I’m not artistic. That was Kevin’s thing.”
“Oh, puh!” Dorothy bats the comment away. “You will be there and you will enjoy it, if only for the fact that Mr. Blair is easy on the eyes. His pieces sell like crazy, you know. He’s a big name in the pottery world. Did you hear about the big pop-up gallery opening happening in January?” She doesn’t wait for anyone to answer. “Mr. Blair agreed to show a few pieces.” Dorothy beams. “It’s going to be great. And”—she leans closer to the two of us—“he has the hands of a god.”
For some reason Trina’s eyes glaze over for a brief moment, and color sweeps high over her cheeks. Then she blinks it away and lets out a breath. “Fine.”
Dorothy just grins and winks at me. “I’d get him to do classes here year-round, but he works at—”
“Dor! Come taste Jen’s new recipe,” Margaret calls from the kitchen.
“Can’t resist a demand like that!” The older woman laughs and sways her hips toward the kitchen. “See you all on Monday.”
I exchange a glance with my sister, who just blows out a breath.
“Guess I’m doing pottery then, huh.” Trina shakes her head, resigned, then moves to give Fiona her congratulations.
