Page 230 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

VANESSA

Doris Day had it right.

Whatever will be will be.

The future is coming at you, so you just damn well better make the most of your present.

That’s why I dress the way I do, listen to great tunes, and spend plenty of my days and nights here at Pin-Up Lanes, where I’m living the American dream.

I love bowling, I love retro clothes, and I love people.

So this suits me fabulously, thank you, Doris Day.

As her soulful number pipes through the place later that evening, I carry a tray of chardonnay-filled wineglasses past my cartoonish Let’s go bowling, it’s great for a date sign, and head straight for the vintage scoreboard.

I don’t glance at lane twenty.

Instead, I deposit the tray at the ladies’ table, set a hand on my hip, and shoot Miriam a playful look, tapping the toe of my Mary Janes.

“You do know that to bowl, you have to send the ball down the lane.” I sweep my arm toward the very empty lane that Chanel-No.

-5-scented Miriam and her two friends are not using since they’re gabbing.

Which is fine by me. I’m also a gabber, and I love to gab with my besties too, whatever chance I get.

Miriam laughs—a rumbly, rich kind that matches her presence as the leader of the group. “Then we’d have to take a break from discussing Sara’s new coconut-cake-baking skills.”

The women break out in peals of laughter. They usually assemble for a book club at my friend Arden’s store, but tonight they brought the book club here.

Narrowing my eyes, I tap a finger against my lip. “Hmm. Something tells me coconut cake is a euphemism. I wonder.”

From behind her cat eye glasses, Sara lifts a brow as she grabs a glass of the wine.

“Not true. I did make a coconut cake after I read this book.” She grabs a paperback from the green-and-white plastic bench seats, slapping a dog-eared The Coincidence of Coconut Cake against her thigh.

“Then, my boyfriend and I wanted to see if it was true what they say about coconut.”

Miriam arches a brow. “Coconut?”

Sara’s pure deadpan when she answers. “That it makes certain substances taste better.”

Chuckling, Miriam shakes her head. “Honey, that’s pineapple.”

Sara wiggles her brows. “No, coconut does the trick too.”

From her spot on the bench, CarolAnn adjusts her messy bun, shaking her head while laughing. “Ladies, if you don’t watch your euphemisms, we’re going to get kicked out of Pin-Up Lanes.”

I wave a hand dismissively. “As if I’d ever kick you out for exchanging such useful intel.” I smile then wave toward my usual post behind the counter. “On that note, I’ll leave you to your cake talk. And feel free to not bowl one bit.”

As I leave, CarolAnn calls out, “Vanessa, I love your dress, and I’m jealous you have the figure to pull it off. But not jealous enough to lay off the wine.”

I swivel around, briefly glancing down at my swingy teal-blue number with a cherry pattern. “Wine is never the problem, and you’re stunning. You’d look amazing in a cherry-pattern dress, and you absolutely have the figure for it. I’ll take you shopping to prove it.”

“Wait! I want to go shopping with Vanessa,” Sara calls out.

Miriam’s voice cuts through. “Evidently, you old birds are not above begging this sweet gal to take you shopping. It’s like I can’t take you out in public.”

I laugh and leave the conversation with a wave, heading back behind the counter, where I busy myself checking in a few new bowlers. As I hand shoes to a family of four, I don’t check out Shaw. Yay me. I deserve bonus points tonight.

A little later, Sara beckons me over to their lane with a wiggle of her fingers. “Vanessa, tell me something.” Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s bolder than usual.

“What do you want to know?”

“Are you still single?”

I shoot her a fierce stare for an answer, then I give her a verbal one. “Am I stealing whatever coconut cake you don’t finish tonight? Is wine the greatest beverage ever? Does fashion rule? Yes, yes, yes, I am single.”

Miriam grabs her phone, tapping quickly on the screen, while Sara takes the reins, answering me with, “Good, because we have someone in mind.”

“Who would that be?” I’m not opposed to being set up. I’m open to meeting the right man, whether he’s on an app, knows one of my friends, or is strolling down the street. And these book club ladies not only know men, but they’ve raised boys who’ve become men.

Miriam jumps in. “My stepson. He’s a catch. You know him, I believe, since he grew up here. Jamie Sullivan.”

My eyes widen. “Of course. Jamie Sullivan, as in two years older, captain of the football team, student athlete and valedictorian who went to Yale Law School?”

Miriam beams proudly. “He’s the one.”

My brow knits as I try to remember what I’d last heard about him. “But I thought he was involved?”

Her smile morphs into a satisfied grin. “Not any longer, and thank the Lord. I never did care for her, and she never seemed to care for him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Miriam tuts. “It’s all for the best. I’m glad he figured it out before he proposed. But now he’s single and ready to mingle . . .”

Her phone trills.

Miriam’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Who could that be?”

Sara chuckles as the phone rings again. “Mir, you don’t need to pretend. The jig is up.”

Miriam grabs her mobile but keeps up the ruse. “Oh, look at that. He’s calling.” She answers her phone on a video call. “Hey, sweetie.”

“Hi, Miriam.”

“Jamie, it’s so funny that you called.”

There’s a pause, and then he says in a smooth, masculine voice, “It’s funny? You texted me and asked me to call. You used all caps. ‘ CALL ME IN EXACTLY FIVE MINUTES IF I SEND YOU A TEXT WITH A MONKEY FACE EMOJI. ’”

I snicker, and Miriam acts perplexed. “I don’t think I said that, but be that as it may—want to hear the most coincidental thing?”

“Sure,” he says, as Miriam adjusts the screen, showing me . . . oh my.

Jamie is even more handsome than I remember.

He’s aged well, and his dark-blond hair curls at the ends.

Warm amber eyes meet mine, and his square jaw could be the factory model for square jaws.

Full lips complete the handsome-as- GQ look.

No wonder my little sister, Ella, had a crush on him when she was in eighth grade and he was a senior.

I wave at his face on the screen. “Hi, Jamie. How are you?”

“Hey, Vanessa. How the hell are you? And, most important, has my stepmom enlisted you in some crazy scheme?”

I shrug lightly. “I’m fabulous, thanks for asking. As for your stepmom, I guess you’ll have to ask her if she’s meddlesome,” I answer playfully.

Miriam beams, tossing a glance at her comrades-in-setup. “Look, they get along so well already.”

Sara laughs. “You’re forcing them to.”

But she’s truly not, because Jamie and I chat for a few minutes, catching up on the goings-on in our little town of Lucky Falls. He says he’s practicing law in San Francisco, and I tell him I’m keeping busy here at the bowling alley.

“Are you still an avid theater-goer?” he asks, and I can’t help but smile that he remembers a small detail about me from high school.

“I get to San Francisco as often as I can to see shows. My sister and I saw Waitress a few months ago. It was fantastic.”

“Good to hear. How’s Ella?”

“Keeping the library busy as always,” I say, picturing my younger sister, the quintessential sexy and smart librarian.

As a new group of customers heads into the alley, I tell him it was nice chatting, but I have to go.

Once I’ve checked the newcomers in, Miriam strides over, a determined look in her gray eyes. “Look, I’m not going to pretend here.”

I didn’t think she was pretending before. “Good. Be real,” I say with a smile.

She eyes me up and down. “You’re lovely, fun, and pretty. Clever and kind too. So is Jamie. He’s whip smart, sweet as can be, and reliable as anything. He’s ready to settle down. You are too.”

I’m taken aback by her bold assessment of my relationship readiness. “Why do you say that?”

Miriam points to my dark-brown irises. “You have that look. You’re ready for the real deal. My son is the real deal.”

“Is that so?” I ask, but I’m momentarily distracted because Shaw’s heading in my direction, and he’s wearing that grin.

That damn grin that gets me every time.

He slides up next to Miriam. “Hey, Miriam. How’s everything at the library? You still volunteering and reading to the school kids?”

She flashes a smile. “Why, yes, I am.”

“I bet they adore you. I know they loved you when you were teaching a few years back.”

“And I loved teaching second grade up until the day I retired. The kids always got a kick out of it when the firemen visited the school.”

“We’re doing that next week, as a matter of fact.” Then he nods at me. “Anyway, I’ll let you two ladies finish up. Just wanted to say hello.” He meets my gaze. “By the way, nice cherries.”

My gaze drifts momentarily to the cherry pattern, and that fluttery hope springs up once more, wishing he’d say Nice cherries. Want to go out for cherry pie?

I don’t even care for pie.

But I’d say yes.

Instead, he walks away.

He’s always walking away.

In eight years of running this joint, I’ve always hoped he’d walk back to me. But that’s never happened.

That never will happen.

And I suppose it’s truly for the best. I can’t keep feeling this way for Perri’s brother.

Maybe tonight is a sign it’s time for me to move on from this best-kept secret.

I return my focus to Miriam, who’s patiently waiting. Shaw’s well out of earshot.

“That sounds great. Set me up with him,” I tell her.

She punches the air, and I take a deep breath.

Miriam is correct. But that’s another reason Shaw isn’t right for me—he’s a ladies’ man, and I’m ready for the real deal.

Some decisions require best friend approval, even retroactively.

After I say goodbye to the last patron, a woman in a satin Pink Ladies jacket toting a matching bowling ball bag, I lock the door to Pin-Up Lanes.