Susan Mallery - The Friends We Keep

“In you go.”

The girls didn’t budge.

“We want booster seats,” Kennedy said firmly. “Car seats are for babies. Mommy, we’re starting kindergarten.”

“That means we’re not babies anymore,” Kenzie added.

Gabby didn’t know which kid at their summer camp had said something about booster seats versus car seats, but she really wished he or she hadn’t.

She thought about the bottles of wine waiting back inside Supper’s in the Bag. She could give the girls back to Cecelia, have a couple of glasses and then phone Andrew to drive them all home. She could bang her head against the side of the SUV until that pain was bigger than the argument. Or she could suck it up, remind herself that she was blessed and lucky and every other good thing, and simply deal.

Despite the fact that the wine scenario was really appealing, she went with the latter.

“You are growing,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “And I love you very much. That’s why I want to keep you safe. Please get in your seats so we can go home and get dinner ready for your dad.”

The twins stayed stubbornly in place.

Gabby held in a sigh. Where was the win in this fight? She wasn’t going to be blackmailed by five-year-olds. “Boomer and Jasmine are waiting for their dinners, too. I want to go home. Please get in your car seats now.”

“We won’t.” Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest. Kenzie followed, because Kenzie always followed.

“For every minute we wait here, you will lose fifteen minutes of your television time,” she told the girls. Kind of a big deal because TV was limited in the Schaefer household.

The twins glanced at each other, then back at her. Kenzie leaned over to her sister.

“Fifteen minutes is a long time.”

Kennedy sighed heavily, then got in the SUV. Kenzie did the same. Gabby vowed that later she would talk to her husband and they would brainstorm a solution. Or at the very least have a glass of wine and remind themselves that in ten years, when the twins wanted to start dating, they would look back on the car-seat fights and tell themselves these were the good old days.

Chapter Two

“I heard the news,” Cecelia said as she tidied the crayons scattered across the kid-sized table.

Nicole Lord held in a heavy sigh and faked a big smile. “Of course you did. Isn’t it fantastic? We’re all superexcited.”

Cecelia stepped closer and lowered her voice. “It’s okay. Tyler’s over there.”

Nicole glanced at her son who was across the room, playing with Hayley, then back at the nineteen-year-old babysitter. “Can you believe it? I can’t. Of all the luck. Or lack of luck. Tyler’s thrilled. He’s counting the days. If his math was good enough, he’d be counting the minutes.”

“And you?” Cecelia asked.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I’m counting the minutes, too, but for different reasons.”

“You’re not going to attack him or anything, are you? I’d hate to read about you being arrested.”

The question, meant to be funny, offered a visual that Nicole found tempting. Not being arrested. Despite the guilty pleasure of the show Orange Is the New Black, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t do well in jail. Or prison. Either, really. But attacking Jairus Sterenberg was a different matter. She wouldn’t mind smacking him really hard. Or maybe just giving him a piece of her mind. The angry, annoyed part.

“I will not attack him, I promise. Tyler loves his Brad the Dragon books and I would never hurt my son.”

“What if he didn’t find out?” Cecelia teased. She held up one hand. “I’ll stop now. It’s just, you really hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” Nicole said, hoping it was true. “How can I hate someone I’ve never met? It’s just...” She shook her head. “That whole empire of his. The article I read on him a while back said he was a pretty awful person, making money off of kids. Which means he’s little more than a weasel rat bastard who would merchandise air if he could figure out a way.”

Brad the Dragon had started life in picture books and was now also in chapter books. And the merchandising! There were stuffed animals and clothes and sheets and games. The man was wallowing in money, she thought bitterly. All at the expense of kids and parents everywhere.

Worse, so much worse, she’d just discovered he lived in the area. And in what some people would mistakenly claim was a generous offer, he’d held a contest through the parks’ summer programs. The same summer programs where Tyler spent his days.

Kids were invited to write a paper explaining why they loved B the D. The winning camper and his or her class got a personal visit from Jairus himself, along with an autographed book.

Tyler had been thrilled to find out about the contest and had spent two weeks perfecting his entry. Nicole would know—she’d helped him every step of the way. They’d come up with a B the D story line where Brad met Tyler. They had even included pictures.

“I know you don’t think he’s a bad guy,” Nicole said. “But come on. Kids having to write a paper before they can meet the guy? Couldn’t he just show up at the camp like a regular person? But noooo.”

Cecelia laughed. “You have so much energy about that poor man.”

“Trust me, he’s far from poor.”

“Still, what if he’s not evil?”

“Then I’ll feel really, really bad about trashing him.”

“Think that’s likely?” Cecelia asked.

Nicole grinned. “Not a chance.”

She confirmed the upcoming week’s schedule with Cecelia, then went to collect Tyler. She had to admit, if only to herself, that her loathing of B the D’s creator was a recent thing. That in her heart of hearts, she understood that she just might be projecting her feelings onto a man she’d never met.

Nearly two years ago, her then-husband had quit his job to write a screenplay. Something he hadn’t discussed with her or even mentioned until two days after the fact. There’d been no negotiation, no warning. Eric had simply up and quit, leaving her to support their household while he spent his days surfing to “clear his head” before he began writing.

It was right about that time when Nicole had started to find Brad the Dragon and all his merchandise the tiniest bit annoying. What was it about writers? Did they all have to be self-centered jerks? Or was it just the successful ones? Because Eric had gone on to sell his screenplay for the unbelievable amount of one million dollars. And then he’d left her.

“Ready to go?” she asked Tyler.

He stood with his thin arms wrapped around Hayley’s waist as he leaned against her. Hayley hugged him back. The two of them had always been close. Hayley was a kid person down to her bones.

“See you next time,” he told Hayley.

“I can’t wait,” the other woman said. “Have fun meeting Jairus.”

Tyler grinned so broadly, Nicole knew his face had to hurt. “It’s only five more days.”

“Do you know how long that is in minutes?” Hayley asked, then slapped her hand over her mouth as Tyler turned to Nicole.

“Mommy?”

“I’m sorry,” Hayley whispered. “I just made it worse, huh?”

“We’ll survive.”

Tyler rushed over and danced in front of her. “We can know how many minutes?”

“Sure. We can do the math when we get home. We’ll need a calculator.”

Hayley winced. “Now I’m making you do math.”

Nicole hugged her friend. “I love you, even when you make me do math. But when I regrout my bathroom tile, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“It’s a deal.”

Nicole straightened. For a second she studied Hayley. As always, her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked as if she were in the middle of fighting some awful illness. Nicole knew the truth was slightly less desperate, but still painful. Hayley was recovering from yet another miscarriage.