Sisters Like Us

by Susan Mallery

  “How are your driving lessons coming?” she asked, hoping to start a conversation. “Lucas mentioned you were doing well.”

  Becca made a face. “I’m kind of mad at him right now.”

  Harper’s heart froze at the horrifying possibility of her daughter knowing about her affair. Would Becca—

  “But maybe he was right,” her daughter continued, then looked at Harper and smiled. “I had to do a makeup paper for my history class and I wasn’t done with it, so he wouldn’t go driving with me the last time. I was so pissed, but then I kind of realized he was only trying to help me be more responsible and mature.”

  “That is so unfair,” Harper said before she could stop herself. “If I’d done that to you, you wouldn’t have spoken to me for a week!”

  She immediately wanted to call back the words. Why was she screwing up a perfectly nice moment with the truth?

  Becca stunned her by grinning and saying, “You’re right. I would have been mad and pouted. But at least you have coupons you can use to make me behave.”

  Harper didn’t know what to say to that so she cautiously asked, “Where are you on the report now?”

  “It’s done. I’m going to turn it in tomorrow. I spent a lot of time on it and I’m really happy with how it came out.” She made a face. “I thought history was boring so I didn’t pay attention. Lucas told me that I can’t just participate in the fun parts of life. He asked if I thought you enjoyed all the stuff you do for me, and while I want to say that you have to like it because I’m your kid, I guess cleaning the toilet is never fun.”

  “It’s not my favorite,” Harper admitted, wondering what else Lucas had discussed. Not that she didn’t trust him, but talk about being close-lipped. The man had depths. It was kind of nice to know he was more than a pretty face who was good in bed.

  “According to the emails I’ve gotten from your teachers, you’re doing well in your other classes,” Harper said.

  “It’s been a good semester. I’m supposed to focus on my precollege classes for next year, but I really don’t know what I want to study or be. I don’t know why we have to decide so early and college is expensive.”

  “Don’t worry about the money. We’ll figure it out.” She’d been saving as much of the child support as she could and she would bully Terence into helping. Plus, with the new renter and the business growing, thanks to Dean, there was a little left over every month.

  “It’s hard to know what you want to do with your life at seventeen,” she added. “These days, it seems like everyone has three or four careers.”

  “That makes my decision confusing,” Becca admitted. “All the articles they make us read talk about using our passions as a guide, but I’m not sure I have any.” She finished the last row on the hat and cut the yarn, then took a needle and wove the strand into the pattern so it was secure and undetectable.

  “Mom, I want to get Jazz certified as a therapy dog and take her to where Grandma lives. There’s a memory unit and a skilled nursing facility. I’ve talked to the manager there and once Jazz has passed her tests, she said I can bring her by. I promise it won’t get in the way of my hours working for Dean. I’m going to need a senior project next year anyway and I thought it could be about working with old people.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think Jazz would like it a lot and it’s easier to get your project approved if it involves volunteering.”

  Harper stared at her daughter. “I think that’s a great idea. What made you think of it?”

  “When I went to see Grandma the first time, I got lost and ended up there. It was scary because they were old and some were really sick, but Jazz didn’t mind.”

  Harper had the sense of having missed a big portion of her daughter growing up. When had Becca become so caring and thoughtful? She’d been that way as a little girl, but over time, she’d turned into a teenager. Was she morphing back into who she’d been?

  “I’d like to come along when you go,” Harper told her. “If that’s okay.”

  “Sure. We can go see Grandma and stock up on cookies and brownies.”

  “Because she’s still making them nearly every day.”

  Harper knew her mother would never admit it, but she was enjoying her new life at the retirement community. She’d made friends, there was lots to do, plus she got to complain about her children. What could be better? Stacey had pointed out there were lots of single men there, but despite joking about it before, Harper couldn’t deal with the thought of her mother dating. Yes, Bunny was relatively young, and yes, Harper didn’t feel that her mother had to live alone for the rest of her life, but honestly, she could not wrap her mind around her mother having sex. No doubt that was exactly how Becca would feel if she knew about Lucas. Not that anyone was going to tell her.

  “Dean suggested I make videos of my training with Jazz,” Becca said, starting another hat. “When I have them edited, he said I should show them to the trainer to see if she wants to hire you guys to update her website.”

  “Dean’s quite the idea man. Are you going to be okay working for him?”

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mom, you know I couldn’t ever work for you. We’d fight all the time. You’re so bossy.”

  “Hey!”

  Her daughter grinned. “Well, you are, but it’s okay. I’m very happy with my job. Thank you for letting Dean hire me. I promise to do my best.”

  “I know you will, honey.” She finished the tiny flower she would sew onto the hat Becca had completed. “When we’re done with this, want to go out for dinner?”

  Her daughter’s eyes widened. “You mean eat food someone else prepared? Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “Stop it. We can bring Ashton along, if you’d like.” Harper did her best not to smirk. “I haven’t spent much time with your new boyfriend. I’m sure there are a lot of questions I should be asking him.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I absolutely will, but I’ll try very hard not to embarrass you...too much.”

  Becca groaned and reached for her phone. “Let me see if he’s around,” she said, already typing in the message. “But no pictures from when I was little. You have to swear.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  Becca was still smiling as she sent off her text. Harper watched her and felt her heart fill with more love than she could have ever imagined. This young woman was the best part of her. How could Terence have so little to do with her? Before the wedding, he’d never been around and once he got back from his honeymoon, she doubted things would get much better.

  She was going to have to talk to him, again, and somehow convince him that his daughter was important and if he didn’t think so, he had to see that she needed him. If that didn’t work, she was pretty sure Lucas knew a guy willing to beat up Terence for a price.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  BECCA SET THE folder on Mrs. Nemecek’s desk. “I did it. The paper is longer than you requested. I added a couple of maps.” She paused. “I thought about pictures, but that seemed like too much.”

  Her history teacher didn’t pick up the folder or even acknowledge it. Instead she asked, “What did you write about?”

  “Germany’s decision to invade Russia. Why Hitler did it and what were the consequences.”

  “Such as?”

  “He couldn’t invade Russia and Great Britain at the same time. Even he didn’t have the resources. From our perspective, going into Russia is suicide—the land mass is too big and there are too many people. But back then, it made sense. Germany had resources and a trained army. The Russians had to draft people to protect their country. They didn’t know how to fight or have weapons.”

  Mrs. Nemecek looked skeptical. “I asked you to make me feel something, Becca. You’re giving me information.”

  Becca shifted her weight from foot to foot. “It’s in the paper. The fighting
was awful. The Russian commanders had orders to kill any deserters. There wasn’t any food or weapons. Hundreds of thousands of people starved to death. In the Battle of Stalingrad, if you were a new private, you probably wouldn’t last more than a day and they were like my age. I can’t imagine what they went through and then they died and no one cared.”

  Mrs. Nemecek gave her a rare smile. “I look forward to reading your paper. I’ll post your grade before the end of the semester.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that you gave me this chance.”

  “You’re welcome, Becca. Try to remember that while you won’t enjoy every class you take, if you make an effort, you can always learn something.”

  Becca nodded and left. Ashton was waiting for her in the hall.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope she likes it.” She was about to say it was because she wanted the good grade so Lucas would help her finish her driving hours, but she realized it was more than that. She wanted to get a good grade because she’d worked hard and had something to prove.

  Ashton took her hand and led her out of the building. “You did your best, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then let it go. Feel the freedom of having turned in your last paper.”

  “I still have finals.”

  “But, for this afternoon, you’re young, you’re happy, you’re with me.”

  She laughed. “I am with you.”

  “Next up, agility equipment for Jazz.”

  Becca’s good mood evaporated. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. It’s really expensive.”

  “That’s why we’re going to explore used. You have the address?”

  Becca pulled a small piece of paper out of her back pocket. She’d found someone selling agility equipment online. It looked a bit battered in the picture, but was so much cheaper than anything new. Becca had her savings and she would be working for Dean, so she would have some money, but no way could she afford the lessons and the equipment unless she could get a good deal.

  They drove to the Culver City address the seller had given her. A fortysomething black-haired woman greeted them at the door and led them around to the backyard.

  “I only used it for a couple of years. Hero, my dog, had some trouble with his hips, so we had to let the training go. It’s real good quality.”

  Becca didn’t say anything. The ad had offered the equipment for five hundred dollars. She had two hundred in cash—it would clean her out, but be a really good start for Jazz. There were cheap kits online for less than that, but everything she’d read said not to waste her money. Jazz was too big, too strong and powerful and she would tear up the lightweight plastic in a few sessions.

  As promised there were jumps, rings, weave poles, even a teeter-totter. The chute tunnel had a couple of tears, but otherwise was in good shape. But the price...

  “How much?” Ashton asked.

  “Five hundred and that’s firm.”

  Becca’s heart sank. Saving to get five hundred dollars seemed impossible, especially with her car expenses and the cost of the training classes.

  Ashton walked over to the weave poles. “I could make these out of PVC pipe. That’s the white plastic pipe. I could just cut it into poles and we’d stick them in the ground.”

  Becca studied the poles and realized he was right. “We could make a chute tunnel,” she said slowly. “My mom can sew anything. I think she has special needles to work with plastic.” She smiled. “She makes all our seasonal outdoor flags out of waterproof material.”

  Maybe she should look online for DIY instructions for making the rest of it. At least for now. Lucas would help, and Ashton. She was only going to be working about thirty hours a week. Even with Jazz’s classes and visiting the memory unit, she would have time to—

  “I knew it,” the dark-haired women said. “You’re trying to get me to reduce the price.”

  “I was hoping you would, but I only have two hundred dollars, so there’s no way we can make this work. Thank you for your time.”

  Becca and Ashton started for his car.

  “Wait!” The woman hurried after them. “Do you have it in cash?”

  Becca pulled the bills out of her jeans front pocket. “Right here.”

  “Dammit.”

  The woman looked from the equipment to the cash, then sighed. “Fine. Just take it. I’m tired of looking at it anyway.”

  Becca handed over the bills. The woman counted them.

  “I’d like a receipt,” Becca told her.

  “Of course you would. Fine. I’ll go write it up while you load everything in the car.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they squeezed all the equipment in the car. Becca had to share the passenger space with the weave poles and flattened chute tunnel, but she didn’t mind.

  “Mom and I never use the backyard anymore,” Becca said, hoping she didn’t sound too young in her excitement. “The patio sometimes, but never the grass. I can set all this up right away. Jazz is going to love it. She’s really smart and athletic. She doesn’t have a strong hunting drive like some breeds, but she’s a working dog, so she’ll do what she’s supposed to because it makes her feel good.”

  Ashton grinned at her. “Someone’s been doing her homework on the topic.” Before she could decide if he liked or didn’t like that about her, he added, “I always wanted a smart girlfriend and now I have one.”

  She laughed. “Let’s wait and see what Mrs. Nemecek gives me on my paper before we say if I’m smart or not.”

  “I don’t need your teacher to tell me, Becca. I already know.”

  Happy words that made her feel all squishy inside, she thought. Very happy words.

  * * *

  Harper knew it was a cliché, but she actually felt like a new species at a zoo exhibition. Everyone was friendly enough and there was lots of chatter, but the sense of being stared at would not go away.

  Lucas had invited her to a barbecue at his partner’s house. Kirk Beldon was also a detective at the LAPD and he also lived in Mischief Bay with his wife and son. There were probably twenty or twenty-five people milling around in the backyard. Tables had been scattered around and the barbecue was on the patio. A few young kids ran around and played, chased by a very strange alien-looking dog with fluffy white hair and a pink T-shirt trimmed in rhinestones.

  “This is Lulu,” Lucas said, scooping up the dog as she ran past. She immediately relaxed into his arms and gave his chin a quick lick. “She’s a Chinese crested with very delicate skin. So she wears clothes and sunscreen and probably has her own masseuse.” He gestured to a fiftysomething woman sitting with a familiar-looking man with gray hair and a trimmed beard.

  “That’s Pam, her mom.” He frowned. “Pam is also Jen’s mom. Jen is Kirk’s wife. Their son Jack is the crazy toddler running around and talking up a storm.”

  Harper tried to keep up. “Jen’s the one who’s pregnant?”

  “They’re having a girl in a couple of months.” He pointed to a pretty dark-haired woman around thirty with a baby in her arms. “That’s Zoe. She’s Jen’s best friend. See the guy with Pam?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s Miguel. He and Pam are a couple and Zoe is his daughter. She’s marrying Pam’s son Stephen in September. They have a little girl who’s about seven months old.”

  Harper looked at him. “Jen’s best friend is married to Jen’s brother and Jen’s mother is dating her best friend’s father?”

  “It’s kind of a soap opera.”

  “There’s an understatement.” She watched everyone interact. “They seem lovely.”

  “They are. After I was shot, Jen made me move in with her family while she took care of me.”

  Because he didn’t have anyone else, Harper thought. Lucas didn’t have family
and it wasn’t as if any of his girlfriends would have been capable.

  “That was nice of her.”

  Lucas watched Jen as she checked on her guests. “She’s special.”

  There was something about the way he said the words. Harper wondered if there was more between Jen and Lucas than either of them wanted to let on. She had her chance to find out a few minutes later when Jen came over and smiled at Harper.

  “I’m heading in to assemble salads. Want to help?”

  A very innocent question, but Harper had a feeling there would be a test of who could grill the other better.

  “I’d love to.” She turned to Lucas. “You going to be okay by yourself?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Harper took her glass of white wine with her and followed Jen into the house.

  The kitchen was large and well laid out. There was a small table for Jack and plenty of storage. Jen began pulling different ingredients out of the refrigerator. She was barefoot and pretty in cropped pants and a maternity T-shirt with an arrow pointing to her belly. The text on the shirt proclaimed Future Madam President.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” Harper told her. “This is nice.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad to finally meet you. Lucas hasn’t said much so we’re all curious.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  The two women looked at each other. Harper was still trying to figure out what she could ask without seeming rude when Jen drew in a breath and spoke.

  “I’m going to address the elephant in the room,” she said. “You’re not his usual type.”

  “You mean I’m not a twenty-year-old airhead? I mean it’s not like there aren’t plenty of intelligent pretty women in their twenties, but does he date those? Of course not. A lack of brainpower seems to be a prerequisite.”

  “Right?” Jen laughed. “Although I like to think the smart ones aren’t interested in dating a guy about the same age as their dad.”

  “Or older.”