Today she planned to cancel everything. To throw herself into being present for the kids she’d been neglecting while chasing Jessica Meyers. To stop anesthetizing herself with second and third glasses of wine.
Today was the day she took back control.
Pouring herself a cup of black coffee, she sat down next to Paige and gazed lovingly until her beautiful daughter dramatically turned, rolled her eyes, and said, “Mom, what?”
“I just love you, that’s all,” said Holly, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind Paige’s ear.
“Is everything okay? You and Dad seem . . . I don’t know.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Everything will get worked out.”
“It’s because he travels so much, right?” Paige said, pleased with her own maturity and knowledge.
Holly forced a smile. “He travels far too much.”
After giving Paige a grudgingly accepted kiss, Holly went up to her room to shower and dress for the day. She slipped off the stiff Carhartt overalls she wore for morning chores, began to unbutton her wool Pendleton shirt, and stopped. Picked up her phone.
She texted Brian first.
Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Having a rough time. But your messages made me feel better. Talk soon.
Then she called Jack, who would have gotten back from his trip to Japan. It rang twice and went to voice mail.
She left a message: “Don’t bother coming home.”
And pondered the timing of the email she would send to Jessica.
Chapter Thirty-One
LARK
Your assets can never be too diversified.
—“How I Lied about My Name and Discovered My Truth,” a TED Talk by Jon M. Wright
Trip looked like he was running on fumes. He had always seemed like the Energizer Bunny, ready to go go go, but when he’d shown up unannounced at her apartment this evening, the faint smile lines at the corners of his eyes seemed more deeply etched, and there was a slight puffiness under his eyes that wasn’t quite hidden by his winter tan.
She liked it. It made her feel like, for once, she could take care of him. She was glad he had a surprise weekend getaway planned. He needed it. They both did.
“What idiot decreed that golf was the game of business?” he groaned as she kneaded his shoulders. “In fact, I’m not so sure I wasn’t invited there to fill out a foursome, because seventy-two holes later, I still don’t know if there’s an opportunity for me.”
“Where were you?” she asked, working on his spine with her thumbs. She had taken a massage class and still knew a move or two.
“God, that’s great, please don’t stop,” he said, his head drooping as he ignored the TV across the room. He was seated on the floor between Lark’s legs while she sat over him on the couch. “Miami.”
“What’s it like there?”
“The golfing is excellent, if you like that kind of thing.”
“I don’t, but I’ll bet you’re good at it.”
“I’m smart enough to feign enthusiasm and good enough to let the other guy win.”
Lark stopped for a moment. “Really? I can’t imagine you letting anyone else win.”
“Well, it depends on the situation.”
The door opened and Callie came in. She still worked some evenings at her old job, and while she told Lark she was just helping out, Lark couldn’t help but wonder if she was keeping one hand on an escape hatch. Callie had refused to discuss a future at Larkspur Games beyond her initial six-month commitment.
“Oh,” she said, seeing Trip. “It’s been a while.”
“Too long. It’s nice to see you,” he said gamely.
Lark appreciated how hard he worked to be nice to Callie, even when Callie was in a mood.
“Are you staying for long?”
“I came for my follow-up interview,” he said.
“That position’s been filled,” Callie said with a fake smile before going into her bedroom and closing the door.
“Really?” asked Trip.
“The candidate finally accepted this morning,” explained Lark. “We’re small time for her, but she loves the game and sees a real opportunity to position Larkspur as ‘Smart Games for Strong Girls.’”
“That’s great,” said Trip, wiggling his shoulders until she started rubbing again. “Sometimes all it takes is finding someone who’s passionate about what you have to offer.”
Lark worked his neck with her fingertips for a minute, then said, “I’m sorry about Callie. She’s been moody lately.”
“I hope she hasn’t changed her mind about me. I thought we got along really well.”
“It’s . . .” Lark sighed, unable to continue. Unwilling to tell Trip that Dylan had played even the slightest role by stoking Callie’s suspicions. Or that those doubts had taken on a life of their own.
“She’s probably still protective and afraid she’s losing a friend,” said Trip. “It’s normal.”
Lark leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for being so understanding and patient.”
“She’s important to you, so she’s important to me, too.” Trip reached back and grabbed her hands, held them tightly on his shoulders. “How quickly can you get your bag packed?”
Twenty minutes later they were headed east on Interstate 10, with Lark’s overnight bag next to Trip’s still-packed bag in the trunk of his rental Jaguar. It never ceased to amaze Lark how many different models were available, and Trip rarely seemed to repeat his choice of transportation. When she’d quizzed him about it early on, he’d said, “It’s always been my lifelong compulsion to try all the flavors.”
“Where are we going?” she asked now.
“Palm Springs okay?” he asked in return.
“More than.”
He seemed fidgety and distracted, checking his mirror and changing lanes more often than necessary, which she thought was probably a sign of his fatigue. Wanting to help him relax, Lark synced her phone to the car and queued up a series of beautifully moody songs, which soon had the desired effect. They were comfortably quiet as the car rolled through the heart of
