“Um,” Rachel’s gaze flicked to Anna. “I usually go to church too. But I don’t have to. We could totally do something.” The last two sentences were dropped hastily on the end as Rachel realized the current plan would leave Lacey alone for the morning. But Lacey was more stuck on her first sentence.
Was there something in the water at the moment? First Anna, then Emelia, now maybe Rachel had gone and caught religion. Was this what falling in love did for people? They suddenly needed some deeper purpose in life? Needed to connect with some higher power?
Her coffee sloshed in her cup, and she lifted it to her lips to buy herself a few seconds. Lucas wasn’t the type of man who needed some kind of crutch. But then neither was Cam. Or Peter.
“No, let’s do something. I’ll ask Mom if she can take Libby. She loves Sunday school. And then we can go out for brunch. Mom will be thrilled to have her to herself.” Anna picked up her phone.
“But won’t they notice you’re not there?”
Anna laughed. “They don’t take attendance, Lace. It’s not parole.” She tapped into her phone, and it pinged a few seconds later. “There. All sorted.”
Lacey couldn’t even gather the energy to protest, even though she felt bad that Anna was missing something important to her so she wouldn’t be alone.
A contemplative silence settled over them, a testament to how much they had all changed since they’d been roommates and had filled every silent space with conversation and laughter. Trying to rebuild their friendship after ten years apart meant they were still navigating how their older selves fitted together now.
“You need a haircut.” Lacey blurted out the first thing that came to her mind as Anna shook her brown hair loose from its ponytail, it tumbling down her shoulders. Lacey could see the split ends even from the other end of the couch. Anna also needed to see a good colorist. The mousy brown did nothing to play up her petite features and big eyes.
“I know.” Anna fingered the tips of her hair, a look of resignation on her face.
“Do you need me to watch Libby? I can do it next week sometime.” Rachel tipped back her mug to get the last drop of whatever was in it then set it on the coffee table.
“No, it’s fine. I’m thinking we might just keep it long.” Anna shrugged. “New look and all that.”
There was a difference between a new look and a Raggedy Anne look. “What’s going on?” Lacey tapped Anna’s foot with hers. A foot that needed some maintenance as desperately as her hair did.
Anna looked away, but not before Lacey caught some rapid blinking. “Anna?”
“What is it?” Rachel leaned forward, elbows propped on her jean-clad knees as she exchanged a glance with Lacey. Life-shattering grief—as Lacey had learned in the last six months—was nothing if not unpredictable. The things she’d thought would bring Anna to her knees—like Libby starting Pre-K—Anna had endured as solid as the Wall of China. Another day, she’d called Lacey from a grocery store aisle, sobbing because the label on Cam’s favorite peanut butter had changed.
Anna pulled her hair onto the top of her head and twisted it around before letting it fall back down. “I can’t afford a haircut.” She looked down at her knees. The next words were muffled against her chest. “Cam’s life insurance is almost gone. We’re running out of money.”
“How much do you need?” This one was on her. Rachel didn’t have spare cash. All hers went to the cost of her father’s care. Lacey had some. That and her condo were her safety net. Her nest egg. Her guarantee that she would never end up back where she came from.
“It’s fine. Honestly. If worst came to worst, I can always sell the house and move back in with Mom and Dad.”
Lacey would buy the house herself before she would let that happen. There was no way Libby was being forced to leave her princess bedroom or Anna the home where she’d made a life with Cam. Plus, Anna would be a far superior tenant to the two she already had.
Anna offered up a wry smile. “Joking. It’ll be fine. I’m just procrastinating about having to grow up and get a job. That’s all.”
A job. Lacey hadn’t even thought about that. Anna hadn’t worked since Libby was born. But of course, she’d have to get a job at some point. Neither her parents or Cam’s were destitute, but Lacey doubted they had the means to support Anna and Libby long term—not that Anna would ever rely on their help.
“Well then, tomorrow morning we’ll go shopping for some clothes and get you a haircut. My treat. Don’t even think about arguing.”
Anna opened her mouth just as Lacey’s phone buzzed, and an email appeared on her screen. Meredith. Lacey grabbed the phone and swiped it open.
“What is it?”
Lacey scanned the email, sucking air in until her lips stuck to her teeth. “We’re being summoned. On Monday. Apparently, Meredith’s version of the corporate Hunger Games is about to commence.”
Victor reread the email on his phone. For the fourth time. Of all the ways this merger might go, he hadn’t picked Meredith flying a third of Wyndham to the US for some kind of team bonding with the Langham people.
He scanned the names of the people who were staying behind to man the ship. He couldn’t, for the life of him, work out whether they were the ones guaranteed a place in the new regime or already tagged for departure.
As one of the people going, he at least had some kind of chance at still having a job at the end of all this.
Victor opened the first attachment and reviewed his flight. London Heathrow to JFK. The second attachment was a hotel reservation that a quick Google search revealed to be not too shabby at all.
What are you up to, Meredith?
The company owner was half-urban legend, half-human, with both her business decisions and personality seemingly curated to constantly keep people off balance.
The world’s ugliest calico cat leaped on to the dining room table and gave him the stink eye. “You’ll need to pick a number, buddy,” Victor muttered.
“I doubt he hates you as much as he hates me.” His brother’s fiancée walked into the room. “Isn’t that right, Reep?” The cat arched his back and hissed at Emelia as she passed. Victor couldn’t stop the side of his mouth from lifting.
“See.” Emelia opened the pantry, grabbed a biscuit tin, and opened the lid. She pulled out a ginger snap and offered the tin to Victor. “Want one?” Her question was tentative.
“Sure.” Victor grabbed a couple from the tin. Ginger wasn’t really his thing, but if this was some kind of olive branch, he wasn’t going to turn it down. He could count on one hand the number of times he and Emelia had been alone together in the years since Peter and Emelia had been dating.
Peter usually limpeted himself to Emelia’s side whenever Victor was around, even though she was a lot tougher than her slight build and nondescript appearance would have anyone suspect at first glance.
Victor shoved the biscuit in his mouth for lack of anything better to do and waited for Emelia to leave him to his solitude. He couldn’t blame her for the reticence. They both reminded each other of pasts they would rather forget.
Once his parents died, they would probably become the type of family whose only contact was cursory annual Christmas updates.