The Sweater Next Door

by Callie Cole

  The Sweater Next Door

  Callie Cole

  The Sweater Next Door© 2020 by Callie Cole

  All Rights Reserved.

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Cover Design: Sarah Kil Creative Studio

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Callie Cole

  Prologue

  How far does a person have to go to get far away from the pain and traumatic memories that never leave you? If you’ve got an answer for me, I’d love to hear it, because everything I’ve tried in the last eight years has failed.

  Three years ago, my father died unexpectedly from a heart attack, leaving my mother alone. I came back for the funeral but didn’t stay long. Who knew that only a few years later I’d be back for my mother’s funeral?

  When my sister called to tell me that my mother had passed, I couldn’t blame my behavior on the suddenness of it all. My mother had cancer, and although I knew she wasn’t well, I expected her to beat it.

  That’s the kind of woman she was: a fighter. I know that denial can be a way to cope, but cancer doesn’t give a shit. It comes knocking on your door when it wants to, whether it’s been invited or not.

  Now, driving through the tiny North Carolina town where I grew up, I’m reminded once again of my childhood and of my best friend, Kristen, and the tears fill my eyes, blurring the road in front of me.

  With one hand on the wheel, I touch the pendant that lies against my skin. She is never far from my thoughts. This necklace is a reminder of the promise we made to each other so long ago.

  I can recall every detail about our friendship. The way we completed each other’s sentences, the way I never had to explain why I was upset about anything. We could count on one another to be there in a pinch, no matter what.

  We met in the sixth grade. We were more than friends. We were partners in crime, and no one would dare make fun of or confront us about anything—that is, unless they wanted a black eye.

  One day in particular stands out, and I remember every minute of that special day as if it were yesterday.

  Laughing as we jump into the pool in my backyard, we’ve got about thirty minutes before the guests arrive for my thirteenth birthday pool party.

  When she resurfaces from the water below, Kristen announces, “We’ll be best friends forever. We’ll grow up, get married, and our houses will be right next to each other.”

  “And I suppose we’ll each have one daughter and they’ll be best friends.”

  “That’s exactly right. How did you know?”

  “You are nuts, you know that? Who are the handsome hotties we’re going to marry? Pick someone good for me.”

  While she looks as if she’s struggling to think of someone, I splash water on her.

  Kristen splashes back and makes fun of me.

  “Right, like you even need two seconds to come up with a name. You’ve been insane over Jason O’Connor since we were eight years old. Don’t pretend you need to think about this.”

  “Okay, okay. I can’t fool you. So Jason will be my husband, and now we’ve got to pick someone for you. There must be someone you like.”

  After a few minutes, she gives up.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. You’re going to find someone one of these days. Right now, we’ll agree that you’re going to marry Brad Pitt.”

  Laughing, I nod my head. “Oh, good choice.”

  “Well, whoever he is, we have to promise to never move from this town. We’re going to grow old together, and we’ll be madly in love with our husbands. The important thing is that we promise to stay close forever. Oh, and we have to have the Backstreet Boys sing at our weddings.”

  Laughing, I swim to the side of the pool. “I’m sure they’ll agree to that.”

  Kristen swims over to me.

  “Do you want to open my gift now before the other kids get here?”

  I can tell she’s got a secret she can’t hold inside.

  “Yeah, sure. Where is it?”

  We get out of the pool, and she runs to the gift table my mother set up.

  I grab a towel and dry myself off. Kristen hands me a small, beautifully wrapped gift and jumps up and down with excitement.

  “Your mother wrapped this, didn’t she?”

  “I’m all thumbs, you know that. I tell her all the time she could get a job as one of those ladies who wrap boxes at the mall.”

  As I open the box, Kristen digs in the pocket of her gym bag and pulls out a necklace exactly like the one in the box.

  “Look. I have the other half.”

  The pendant is one half of a sterling silver heart. Kristen puts her half against mine to complete it.

  “Oh, Kris. I love it.”

  I hand Kristen the necklace and turn, lifting my hair.

  “Help me put it on. I want to wear it today.”

  Kristen clips the necklace in place and then puts hers on.

  I turn back to her and give her a hug.

  “Thank you. It’ll be the best gift I get today. I mean it.”

  Kristen sticks out her pinky finger, and I lift mine, wrapping it around hers.

  “Repeat after me. We promise to always be best friends and we’ll never let anything or anyone come between us.”

  I repeat the words, and as we run to the diving board, Kristen yells out to me, “Well, it’s official now.”

  “What’s official?”

  Waving to me before she dives in, she smiles.

  “No matter where we go for the rest of our lives, we’ll be incomplete without the other.”

  I didn’t know it then, but the events of that day, and one more, would haunt me for a very long time.

  Chapter 1

  I watch my sister, Emily, navigate the room like a pro. I know it’s a funeral, but she always looks like she’s thrilled to play hostess to people we normally can’t stand. It’s a talent I haven’t mastered.

  My eyes scan the room to see if anyone from Kristen’s family is here. I don’t really expect them to come, but that doesn’t stop the anxiety I feel over the possibility of seeing them again.

  It’s not just the Nelson family, though. I can’t think of one single person in this town who was kind to me when I needed it most. The anticipation of returning to this town so many years after the accident put me in a near panic. It’s not lost on me that everyone in this house today is here because of my mother, and not really to support me.

  There are two things the people in Stone Ridge have a genuine talent for: gossip and denial. Both were on display the minute they stepped out of their cars and onto the grass at the cemetery. I could feel all eyes on me as they whispered to one another, finally approaching me with fake sympathy and compassion.

  Now, back at the house, and me within earshot of every one of them, it’s much harder for people to gossip, but the feigned love and concern for me is a drama that must be played out
.

  Keeping up appearances isn’t something I need to worry about in New York. If someone doesn’t give two shits about you, you’ll know it. That harshness might offend the people of Stone Ridge, but I like it just fine. I always think of it as knowing where the bullet is coming from before it hits me.

  The thought of me smiling for another two hours is more than I can bear. I look out the window and see several people congregating in the backyard, making my escape impossible.

  “Resting bitch face.”

  “What?”

  Trying not to point directly at Natalie Butler, my sister continues, “You should see her kids. They all have it too, all six of them. Can you imagine growing up in that house? One miserable face after another looking at you every day. I’d shoot myself.”

  “Shh. She’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care if she does. If I hear one more Bless her heart, I think I’ll scream. How much longer before we can kick all these people out?”

  Looking at the clock on the mantle, I say, “I think three hours is standard for one of these things. That makes another two hours before you can start repeating the obligatory Thank you for coming.”

  A tap on my shoulder makes me turn as my sister escapes. Lidia Morrow, the queen of town gossip, demands my total attention.

  “Oh, Laney, I am so sorry about your mamma. She was the most wonderful woman. Everyone loved her. Did you know she kept our monthly book club alive? It’s true.”

  She lowers her voice to a whisper. “For a while, we almost disbanded because Norma Crosby didn’t want to read any books with suicide, sex, swears or violence in them, but of course books like that are hard to find.”

  No longer whispering, she continues. “Your mamma also ran the annual Christmas Prelude in the town square. She was such an inspiration. How she kept going after…”—her voice is a whisper once again—“the cancer.”

  I smile and try to stay focused on what she’s saying, but the front door opens, and someone I don’t know walks in.

  Pointing toward the living room, I say, “I’m sorry, Lidia, I’ve got to see to my other guests.”

  “Oh, of course, dear. You take care.”

  I can feel Lidia’s eyes on my back as I walk away. Grateful for the new visitor, I try to place his face. No one comes to mind. I’m certain if I’d met him before, I wouldn’t forget. He’s six feet of handsome, and I’m already disappointed in myself for being attracted to my mother’s funeral guest. Not the time or the place.

  I extend my hand. “Hello. I’m sorry, I'm not sure that we’ve met. I’m Nellie’s daughter, Laney. How did you know my mother?”

  He takes my hand in his and places his other one on top of it.

  “My daughter and I live next door. We moved in a few years ago. Your mother was a wonderful woman, and a very kind neighbor. We’re so sorry to hear that she passed on.”

  He and his daughter live next door. No wife?

  “Well, thank you for coming today. I haven’t lived here for several years, and I’m sorry that my mother never mentioned you to me.”

  “We did our best to look after each other—your mother and me, that is.”

  With my sister living about thirty minutes away, I can think of no better situation than for my mother to have had a man nearby to help her. The thought of him living next door to me for the next few weeks makes butterflies ricochet off the side of my stomach.

  “I appreciate that, Mr.?”

  “Langford. Patrick Langford. Please call me Patrick.”

  Our eyes stay focused on each other, and I’m just now realizing he hasn’t let go of my hand.

  I pull it back and try to regain some composure.

  “Patrick, why don’t you get something to eat?”

  “Thank you, no. I’ve got to get back home. My sister is visiting, and she’s watching Ella for me. Ella’s only five, so she can’t stay alone. I just wanted to quickly stop in to offer my condolences and to say that I’m only a few steps away if you need anything now that you’ll be living here.”

  “Me? Oh, no. I won’t be staying. I have a job in New York City. I’ve got to get back there as soon as we settle the estate.”

  I try to ignore Emily, who is balancing a tray of drinks and is staring at me with a shit-eating grin.

  Patrick looks at me with sincere regret. “I’m sorry to hear you’ll be leaving. Maybe you need to stay in Stone Ridge for a bit. It’s possible that once you remember how much fun it was growing up here, you’ll reconsider.”

  He has no idea how wrong he is. I can’t think of a single thing in this town that would keep me here. Not even Patrick Langford

  Chapter 2

  We are only ten minutes into the meeting when my jaw drops. I look at the lawyer and then my sister.

  “What are you talking about? I just assumed that Mom would split the house and assets fifty-fifty. Why would she give me the house? I don’t want it.”

  My sister is trying to calm me down.

  “Then sell it. Laney, I thought you’d be happy about it. I don’t care what you do with it. Just sell it and keep the proceeds.”

  “But you should at least have half, Emily.”

  Emily moves to a chair closer to me.

  “Listen. We don’t need the money. You do. I think Mom knew that. We had discussions about the house and the possibility that you might move back here one day. If you ask me, that was probably her main motivation for leaving it to you.

  “I know why you don’t think it’s in the cards to move back, but don’t dismiss the idea entirely. Just because of a few people…”

  “A few people? Her parents, for starters, Emily. They hate me. The whole town hates me.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. The whole town does not hate you. Her parents are grieving. They’ll probably never stop, but that doesn’t mean you give up your entire life because of it.”

  “Give up my life? I have the life I want. I have no desire to come back and spend the rest of my life in this place. I’m perfectly happy in New York. I haven’t given up a thing.”

  The look on Emily’s face tells me that I’m not convincing her.

  “Haven’t you?”

  The lawyer looks like he’d rather be anywhere but in this room with two squabbling women. Nothing brings out the worst in people than Will readings and estate settlements. He clears his throat.

  “Excuse me, but I have another client in ten minutes. Do you think we could finish this today? If not, you can take more time and we can set up another meeting for next week.”

  Neither Emily nor I want to drag this out.

  “No, it’s fine. Let’s finish up. I’m just shocked by it all.”

  Emily takes control of the conversation and addresses the lawyer.

  “We’ll sign whatever documents you need us to sign. We need to move on with our lives and put all this behind us. Laney and I can work out the details later.”

  Pushing the documents in front of us, he says, “Fine. Fine. If you will just sign here and here.”

  Put this all behind us? I doubt that will ever be possible.

  Emily and I say our goodbyes at the door. I kiss her son, Gideon, and her husband, Todd, and pull her into a hug.

  “Now promise me you’ll call me the minute you need anything. I’m only thirty minutes away, and if Todd isn’t in the car, twenty.”

  I laugh. I’ve been in the car with Emily. It’s a scary thing.

  “I promise. I’ll be fine. I’m going to put some of the money from the estate into a few minor projects, and then get the house on the market as soon as I can.

  “I’m able to work from here, but my life is in New York. I don’t want to get stuck here because of the projects. If it takes too long, I may ask you and Todd to handle it for me. It shouldn’t take more than ten days to accomplish everything, but you know how contractors are.”

  “Okay, but before you head back to the city, we’ve got to get together for some real gossip and catching up.�
�

  “Sounds good. I’ll let you know how it’s going.”

  Waving, I watch as their car drives down the street and around the corner out of sight.

  As I turn to walk up the stairs, I look over at Patrick’s house and see someone in the window. A little girl, probably Patrick’s daughter, Ella, waves. I wave back, and she smiles.

  I wonder what happened to her mother. Did she and Patrick divorce or did she die?

  I shake off the desire to know more. It’s none of my business what goes on over there.

  I won’t be staying long enough to get to know their situation. This house will be sold, and I won’t be coming back to Stone Ridge for a long time, if ever.

  I glance at our porch swing, and the pain that never goes away stabs at my heart. There were so many nights Kristen and I would sit on that swing, planning our future. The porch swing was our place to go when we wanted to gossip and make plans for the summer vacations.

  Pushing the memories away, I go inside to the kitchen and start to make a sandwich. Most people struggle to eat during times of stress, but I’m not one of them. I check out the inside of the refrigerator to see if there is something more enticing than peanut butter and jelly.

  I can’t think of a time in my life when food didn’t cure whatever ailed me. Given the abundance of food in front of me, it’s obvious I’m not the only one who thinks that way.

  Every shelf has a casserole of some sort, and all the leftovers from the funeral are jam-packed from top to bottom. I grab a plate and fill it with an assortment of goodies along with a bottle of water and sit at the kitchen table.

  It’s been a week since my mother’s death. Sitting in silence, I’m overcome with sadness and regret. The only sounds I hear are the laughter and conversations that took place in this kitchen so long ago.