Page 30 of The Calendar of New Beginnings (Dare Valley #9)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I f being accused of being psychosomatic wasn’t bad enough, Andy Hale had just kissed her for the first time.

In all the years they’d been friends, he’d never once kissed her on the mouth.

Friends didn’t do that in the U.S. of A.

Sure, they did it in other countries, but Lucy could rattle those off by name.

It sure as hell wasn’t ordinary here in Dare Valley.

It had been a fast kiss, driven by reflex or subconscious instinct. She hadn’t seen it coming, and it had been over before she’d processed what was happening.

But even though it had felt a little weird, it had felt a little right too. Her lips were still warm and tingly from the unexpected contact.

She watched Andy drive away, wondering if she should call him and ask him what the hell had just happened. But she was too tired and vulnerable right now. Maybe she’d feel more prepared to face him after she took a nap.

And so when she heard the crunch of tires in her driveway a little while later, she stayed where she was, lying on the brass princess bed that had caused all that weirdness with Andy in the first place.

She supposed something had changed between them that night.

She could finally admit to herself she was attracted to the man he’d become, the man who would swap ice cream cones with her.

Who would make her laugh and bare his soul to her.

Who smelled of pine and earth. Whose embrace made her want to lean into him forever.

She’d loved him for as long as she could remember, but it was strange to feel a new kind of love for him.

That feeling, so unexpected and disarming, made her want to open the door when he knocked softly.

But she ignored it, and moments later, she heard a car drive away.

Everything was changing. Everything was falling apart.

She’d come to Dare Valley in the hopes that it would give her clarity, but while she knew these streets and these faces, the path ahead was still shrouded in fog.

And coming home after so much time away had only shown her how very different everything was…

Andy, for one. He’d kissed her, and now they were going to have to talk about it.

If that kiss meant he wanted to be more than friends, she’d have to seriously consider it.

She wanted to consider it. But she needed to emphasize yet again that she still intended to leave Dare Valley and resume her career.

She heard a car come up the drive again and groaned. Had Andy stewed and decided to come back and face her? If there was one truth in the universe, it was that Andy Hale wasn’t a coward. She wasn’t either. It was one of the reasons why they respected each other.

So when a knock sounded distantly from the front door, she dragged herself off the bed and steeled herself for the more-than-friends chat.

Opening the door, she gaped. “Mother.”

“You and me need to have a talk, missy,” she said, steamrolling past Lucy into the cottage. “I just saw Matthew Hale drive off in your car. Andy was following him. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she lied again. “They were just doing me a favor.”

“I know when something doesn’t sound right. Did you leave your car outside the house to make me worry?”

Lucy was shaking, unable to handle her mother’s drama but unwilling to tell her the truth. If the car incident upset her this much, how would she react if she knew about Lucy’s injury?

All she needed to do was find some way to make peace with her mother. She was staying in Dare Valley for the foreseeable future. Her life would be easier if they weren’t at odds.

“No, Mother, I did not leave my car there to make you worry. I walked over to Andy’s house and had some drinks with the Hales. Moira stayed with Danny, and Andy drove me home. No big deal.”

“You do look hung over,” her mother said, narrowing her eyes as she studied her. “I noticed it the minute you opened the door. Goodness me, Lucy, you must have tied one on over there.”

All she could do was nod. It stung a little that her mother thought she was hung over rather than sick, but then again, Lucy was encouraging the lie. Guilt coiled around her like a poisonous vine. She just couldn’t take this on right now.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Mom,” she said. “Why don’t you come inside?” She decided sitting down on the couch was a good idea. Her legs were a little shaky. “I’m sorry we fought. You were right. I did blindside you.”

Her mother sat beside her, clutching her purse in her lap. “I’m glad you could admit that.”

Through the haziness of the future, one thing became clear. If she and her mother were going to keep the peace between them, she’d have to relent.

“We’ll do the calendar your way,” she said, trying not to look on it as a defeat. She could do mangoes and feathers and meat cleavers. It was the universe’s greatest joke on her that she’d have to relearn the way she took photos using cliché props, but she had to start somewhere.

Her mother only blinked at her.

“You’re right,” Lucy continued, feeling numb now. “My idea is sad. No one wants to dwell on death and loss. There’s plenty enough of that in the world.”

A part of Lucy really meant it. She didn’t want to entangle herself in all that sadness right now. It might depress her even more. Maybe this way would be fun. God knew she could use a laugh. But a part of her—the part that wanted to capture truth and meaning—was dying inside her.

She let it die.

“This is a pretty big turnaround,” her mother said, peering at her closely. “Even for you.”

“I might choke on the words, Mom, but even I can be wrong.”

Her mom’s mouth twisted. “Dammit. I was all fired up, and you had to go and apologize.”

Lucy cleared her throat. “It doesn’t happen often, so enjoy it.”

That prompted a laugh from her mother. “We have that in common, I suppose, although I can count the number of times your father has apologized to me. Three.”

Lucy really didn’t want to hear about them right now. She just wanted her mother to leave so she could curl back up on her princess bed and pretend she was somewhere else, someone else.

“Please tell the volunteers we’ll start soon. I need to find a place for us to shoot.”

“Oh, I didn’t have a chance to tell you yesterday,” her mother said, her face brightening.

“Chef T offered the media room in The Grand Mountain Hotel. He uses it for his TV shows and promos. It’s fully equipped with all the lighting and sound stuff—not that we’ll need sound.

But it would be funny to make a video about the making of this calendar, don’t you think? ”

Right now all Lucy could focus on was the challenge of taking good enough photographs. “Let’s stick to the photos, Mother. I’m sure some people will get all weird when they have their clothes off. A videographer would only make them tense up.”

“You make a good point there,” her mother said, flicking her blond hair over her shoulder. “Not everyone is as comfortable with their bodies as I am. Except Chef T, perhaps. He’s posed for some pretty big magazines, showcasing those hot tattoos of his.”

Lucy had to be depressed—even the thought of seeing Chef T’s rippling muscles and hot tattoos didn’t ping anything inside her.

“I’ll check out the media room,” she said.

“Before he offered, it occurred to me that the university might have something available for you to use,” her mother said, “but it didn’t seem appropriate. You might think I don’t care about your reputation, but you’re wrong. ”

That somehow soothed her. “Yeah, imagine what the Dean of the Hale School of Journalism would say if he heard that his newest adjunct professor was using university property to take pictures of town citizens wearing nothing but fruit and frankfurters.”

Her mother fell back against the Victorian couch, laughing. “Fruit and frankfurters! That’s a good one. But you’re not laughing, which means you have a pretty bad head. Heavens knows I’ve nursed your father enough. How about the O’Brien Hangover Remedy?”

Lucy gulped. “Does it still involve raw eggs and tomato juice?”

Her mother nodded.

“I’ll pass.” She made a show of putting her hand to her head, trying not to feel guilty for perpetuating the lie. “I just need to rest.”

“Good thing you don’t have class today,” her mother said, rising. “How about I make you some tea before I go?”

“That would be nice,” she said, recognizing it for the peace offering it was. She rose too, forcing steel into her spine. Right now, she felt like the weakest person on the planet.

“Get into bed,” her mom said, patting her on the fanny. “I’ll bring your tea.”

Lucy headed back to her sanctuary, climbed back under the sheets, and assumed a fetal position, staring at the wall. Since her vision was unfamiliar and unwanted, she closed her eyes.

Part of her wanted to keep her eyes closed forever, but sooner or later she would have to face reality. Even ostriches had to take their heads out of the sand. Just not right now.

When her mom hustled into her room a few minutes later, she kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. The rattle of china echoed in her ears. Then a warm hand touched her forehead, a throwback to her childhood when her mom used to tuck her in.

“Love you,” her mother whispered.

Lucy let the tears roll out from under her eyelids as soon as she was alone.