D. Graham - What Are The Chances?

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First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2016

Copyright © D.R. Graham 2016

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D.R. Graham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition © August 2016 ISBN: 9780008145170

Version 2016-08-05

For Charlotte

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

The bells on the front door of the Inn jingled and my best friend Sophie Sakamoto walked through the archway into the dining room. The breakfast guests all glanced in her direction, probably because her black boots, black leggings, dark sunglasses, and black tank-top dress under a black-leather jacket were an unexpected style in my tiny historic village. She looked like she just rolled out of a crypt somewhere.

We hadn’t seen each other in almost three weeks, which was the longest time we’d ever been apart, so I screeched and rushed over to hug her. Despite the fact it was too early in the morning for her to show enthusiasm, she let me smother her with affection. “Welcome home.”

“You too,” she said, strangled by my embrace. “But don’t tell me anything about Europe. It will only make me depressed that I didn’t go with you. Not. One. Word.”

“It’s not like you were sitting at home doing nothing. A cross-country tour with the band is a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head to disagree. “Not compared to the UK, France, and Italy. I don’t want to know how much fun you had.”

I pretended to lock my lips with a key, then topped up a cup of coffee for a guest and filled one for Sophie with cream. “When you said you would drop by to say hi on your way to the gig, I didn’t expect to see you this early.”

“Doug forgot to tell me the show’s in Victoria not Vancouver. We have to catch the ferry at noon. I’m not happy about the early wake-up call, obviously. And apparently we’re staying tomorrow night, too, just to party. Sorry you and I can’t hang out until I get back. Is that okay?”

“Of course. A gig in Victoria is exciting. Congratulations. Do you want something to eat?”

“No thanks, but the guys do. Is your grandpa around?”

“No. I let him sleep in since he had to do everything all by himself while I was in Europe.”

“Not. One. Word.” Sophie pointed at me in a mock threat. “I seriously don’t want to know how awesome Paris and London and Rome were.”

“Sorry.” I smiled and squeezed her shoulders. “The buffet is almost gone. Tell the guys to come in through the kitchen. I’ll make them something else.”

Sophie raised the cup of coffee in silent thanks before she went out to the parking lot to let the band know they could come in for breakfast.

The last two tables of guests were finished eating, so I cleared their dishes and headed through the swing doors into the kitchen. My neighbour Kailyn was seated at the pastry table, helping herself to an entire can of whipped cream. Kailyn, her dad, and her brother Trevor had lived next door since I was five and they almost always ate breakfast at the Inn. Although Kailyn was twenty-one and one year older than Trevor was, she looked five years younger and acted ten years younger because of her special needs.

“You can’t eat that much whipped cream,” I said.

“Yes I can.”

“It’ll make you sick.”

After some contemplation, she used her hand and slid half the fluffy white mound off the waffle and onto the metal pastry table. “Trevor came home last night.”

“Yeah, I heard his motorbike,” I said as I cleaned up the mess.

Trevor and I had a complicated relationship. We had been best friends as kids, but when he went to high school two years before I did, we drifted apart. Then, in my grade-eleven year, I developed a giant crush on him. It was weird. I loved him. I thought he loved me. But nothing happened between us. In the fall, I started grade twelve and he moved down to Vancouver to live on campus at the University of British Columbia. For my whole senior year he came home to Britannia Beach on weekends, but he was always busy with Search and Rescue, his friends, or spending time with Kailyn. I eventually gave up on the hope of a romantic relationship developing between us and moved on.

“Kailyn, did Trevor say he was going to come over for breakfast?”

“He left. With Murphy.” She opened a teen magazine and turned the pages, then, without elaborating, changed the subject to talk about her most recent pop-star crush, “Riley Rivers has a sister. Her name is Amy.”

Unlike some of Kailyn’s favourite heartthrobs, I actually knew a little about Riley. He was talented, but what I thought was even more impressive was the charity work he did in third-world countries when he wasn’t on tour. I was interested in finding out more about him, but before we had a chance to continue the conversation the band piled into the kitchen and spread out on stools around the pastry table. Sophie’s boyfriend Doug hugged me. “Welcome home, Deri. How was your trip?”