Good Neighbors (Book 1 of the Home Again Series)
Page 10
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Alexander Carmichael
Typing this name into the Google search box was a ritual Erica acted out every six months or so. Today she was doing so in the inexplicably feminine bedroom that she was still using in her father's house. She'd waited until Liam had gone to school to perform her rite since, in a way, her search regarded him, too. She wanted to know if she was, in fact, the only viable option to act as Liam's guardian. Also, the lawyer had said they needed to notify all close relatives about the application for Liam's guardianship. Erica had immediately thought of her older brother. The one-time chief of their little band, the strong one who'd even stand up to Dad.
Alex had disappeared shortly before graduating high school. Apparently, he hadn't been able to endure his life at home long enough to get that diploma. His departure had shocked Erica. For one thing, she'd wondered why she herself had not considered simply leaving. For another, she could not understand how Alex could have contemplated such an option, let alone acted on it.
He'd been the leader. They'd all depended on him.
But he had left, without a word, without a note, without a scrap of evidence to show where he might have gone. Since then, he'd never contacted any of them.
Maybe he was dead.
The thought gave Erica a hard thump, causing her to pause as she scrolled past the usual suspects Google had brought her, avenues she'd long ago tried and found led to dead ends. Taking in a deep breath, she moved to the next page in her search engine. She'd rather Alex had turned into a cold, unfeeling monster than be dead. Besides, she had always felt there was something more to his disappearance than simply getting fed up. Something deeper and possibly extreme. Whatever it was could be the reason he still felt he shouldn't—or couldn't—get in touch with any of them.
By the eighteenth page, Erica was coming up with websites that bore no relation to the name she'd typed in. She hadn't really expected a different result from the usual. Anyway, even if she found Alex, he wasn't going to sweep in and fix all their problems the way he used to when they were kids. He didn't have a high school diploma—he was probably in worse shape than Clint.
Erica rubbed her forehead. It was clear she was going to be the one taking this on. At least temporarily. But how? She lived in Los Angeles. She had a business there. It wasn't a large business, true, but she'd spent ten years working up to what she had now. She'd started by bussing tables, moved to working in gyms—and had taken classes in physical fitness and training at night. She certainly didn't want to abandon all that.
But would it be a good idea to uproot Liam and bring him home with her? With a sigh, she lowered her hand from her forehead and ran her fingers over the keyboard of her laptop. She found herself almost idly changing the words in the search box.
Diehard Sports Equipment
Her heart beat a little faster as she pressed the send key. It would feel too weird and obsessed to Google Brennan himself, but looking up his store was allowable curiosity.
The website was impressive. Visually striking while easy to navigate. Right away, she found several items she coveted.
Of course, she was saving money now. She was always saving, hoping to start her own gym. With a place of her own, she could implement the system she'd worked out in her head for how best to address the varied needs of her customers. It wouldn't simply be a way to make a living—it would be a way to help people, a lot of people. With a gym and a staff, she could get her customers feeling fit and healthy, energized and physically improved.
Thinking about her gym while looking at Brennan's website probably hadn't been a good idea. She was now connecting all her happy gym thoughts with infatuated Brennan thoughts.
She couldn't help remembering that moment in his house at dinner when their eyes had met. She recalled the moment often, frankly, the moment when she'd seen his attraction to her. Every time, she felt a little jolt go through her chest.
Erica closed her eyes and leaned away from her laptop.
She wasn't getting her own gym. And even if Brennan were attracted to her, that didn't mean he wanted to start a relationship. For that matter, did she? She didn't even know where she was going to be living next week.
Palmwood or Los Angeles?
Hissing out a breath, Erica opened her eyes. She was back to where she'd started, wondering if it would be a good idea to uproot Liam. He'd have to change schools, drop that college class he was taking. And would her father's pension cover rent for their own apartment? What a mess.
The alternative was to give up her business in LA—but who knew? She might actually do better, physical-training-wise, if she moved to Palmwood.
Erica froze, suddenly struck by the idea. Could it possibly help her, financially, to move?
As she'd noted, her father's house was paid for, no mortgage or rent. And if she wanted to rent space for her business, it was cheaper here than in Los Angeles. Holy— Starting her own gym could happen sooner if she moved here!
Erica tried to put some brakes on her quickly growing excitement. There was a fly in the ointment, a rather big one. She didn't have a single customer in Palmwood, let alone enough customers to support a gym.
Her gaze flicked toward the computer screen where the Diehard website still glowed. Her lips curved into an amused smile. Fortunately, she had an excellent connection in the area, someone with a ton of data about the local exercise market, a person who'd have a good idea if Palmwood was a viable location for a physical trainer.
She angled back toward her computer and scrolled down the web page. There were two addresses listed for Brennan's stores. One of them was only a mile away. She could go ask him about it right now.
Once again, infatuated Brennan thoughts merged with gym ownership aspirations. Simply looking at the store address made Erica's heart speed.
Would Brennan himself be at the closer store? Maybe she should call first.
No. Calling would make her lose her courage or perhaps regain her common sense. It was a one-mile drive.
She should just go.