Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5)

by Catherine Bybee

  I managed an hour-long nap. Thank you. I don’t know what you said, but I owe you.

  You’d do the same for me. Only they both knew that Mary wouldn’t have family clamoring around to help if she had a baby.

  I would!

  Mary considered letting the conversation fade there . . .

  BTW . . . I have a date with Glen this Saturday. Giddy excitement bubbled up inside her as she watched the instant dot, dot, dot on her tiny phone message screen.

  OMFingG! About damn time! I’m in a room full of in-laws or I’d call you over to squeal about it.

  You’re a little busy right now. We’ll chat later when you’re awake.

  Bet your ass we’ll talk later. I’m gonna want details.

  Mary looked forward to a little normalcy so she could provide them. But to dominate any of Dakota’s time right now would be selfish, all things considered.

  Chapter Eight

  Monica called Mary the next morning, asked if they could have lunch before she flew home the next day.

  “I love pizza.” Monica removed a slice and let the cheese drip down the sides.

  “Me too. Glad you suggested it. I feel guilty ordering a whole one on my own.”

  Monica closed her eyes as she bit in. “Not as good as New York, but . . .”

  “Mmm, Chicago is still my favorite.”

  Monica added an enthusiastic nod.

  “Dakota and I were there for one of her conferences. We ordered a large, which on the right day we can put down. The waiter looked at us like we were crazy.”

  Monica stopped chewing so she could laugh.

  “I know. The pizza arrived and I looked at the guy . . . ‘dude, we ordered pizza.’”

  “How much did you get through?”

  “One slice. And that took serious effort.” The memory of the loaded Chicago style pizza with its one-inch thickness and sauce on top made her mouth water.

  “So . . .”

  Every conversation that started with the word so, in Mary’s experience, was the reason for the invite for lunch, cocktails . . . or dinner.

  “So?”

  “I understand Glen asked you out.”

  She wiped her mouth and set the slice aside. “Dakota told you.”

  Monica was quick to shake her head.

  “Glen?”

  She shook it again. “Trent. Who heard from his brother Jason. Who found out because Glen set aside a plane to fly back.”

  “Sounds like a long list.”

  “Not that long. They’re a tight-knit group. I don’t think either of them would have mentioned Glen dating anyone if they weren’t . . . I don’t know . . . excited to see where it goes.”

  Mary tried not to read into that. “I have to be honest,” she said. “Your brother-in-law drives me a little crazy.”

  “The Fairchild charm. I know. They all will, trust me.”

  “No, I mean . . .” What did she mean? “He challenges everything I say. Even that silly stuffed monkey he gave Dakota in the hospital. I saw it first, but he swiped it right from under me to give it to her.”

  Monica chuckled. “Sounds like Glen.”

  “And he’s a player. I know he’s a player.”

  “But you said yes to a date anyway.”

  Mary paused. “He is cute.”

  Monica lifted a brow.

  “Sexy. Okay . . . cute is for boys. Hot. And all those cocky parts are a bit of a turn-on if I were being honest.”

  “The Fairchild charm,” she said for the second time.

  “I don’t normally go for that kind of charm. I’m more reserved.” More like the girl who said yes to Mr. Accountant from the deli. “I’m probably going to regret it.”

  Monica picked up her pizza and waved it in the air. “Don’t regret it.”

  “What?”

  “Take the experience for what it’s worth but don’t regret trying something new. Yeah, it’s not your norm . . . but Glen isn’t a creepy-scary dude.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  “Whatever happens, don’t regret.” Monica set her pizza back down without taking a bite. “Here is the thing. We all know you. It’s not like he can casually date you, treat you like crap, and none of us hear the details. I mean . . . I like to think we’re friends.”

  “We are.”

  “And I’m super close to Walt and now Dakota. And you and Dakota are tight. So the grapevine is woven in ways none of us want to change.”

  Mary really hadn’t thought of it that way. “And if things aren’t cool between Glen and me, or get ugly . . .” She hated personal conflict. She could handle it in her professional life. But she had enough as a child and avoided it as an adult whenever possible. “Maybe I should cancel before anything gets—”

  “No! That’s not . . . no. Listen, I’m not going to deny that Glen has been a player. But I haven’t heard of him being a jerk to the women in his life. And every player eventually calms down.”

  “Some pretend to calm down but still play.”

  Monica acknowledged her with a nod. “I’m not convinced that’s Glen. From what I’ve been told about his mom and dad . . . they instilled integrity in their marriage.”

  “I’m going on a first date, Monica. No one is talking about that kind of thing.”

  “So date. And unless there is a conversation about monogamy . . .” Monica’s words trailed off.

  “Then assume it’s not monogamous.”

  Her lunch date didn’t confirm or deny.

  Could she do that? Assume Glen was seeing other women while seeing her? She knew it happened all the time, but . . .

  Monica pushed her plate aside, giving up on the pizza. “And another thing.”

  “More words of advice?”

  “More statement of fact. Whatever goes down between you and Glen. We’re still friends. He’s family . . . but you and I are friends, and I don’t want anything to wiggle between that.”

  “Deal.”

  Dakota’s in-laws and parents all shuffled off to the airport Friday afternoon. By two, Mary was finished with her clients and heading home. Leroy met her at two thirty with a crew of men.

  “See here.” The same camera was snaked down her plumbing that she’d seen the first day he showed up to her house. “The pipe is crushed at this point.”

  Mary glanced at the screen, saw the pipe in question.

  “Okay . . . what does that mean?”

  “Means we need to replace the pipe or you’ll be calling us back out here in no time with the same problem.”

  “Roots in the plumbing.”

  “Yeah. As long as the roots find their way into the pipe, and they find water . . . you’re going to have this issue.”

  Mary glanced beyond her bathroom. “So where is the pipe?”

  Leroy walked outside of the bathroom and into her living space. He stopped about six feet in front of her front door and pointed down. “Here. Under the slab.”

  Mary glanced at the tile entry and the carpet that filled her living room. “How do you get to the pipe?” She hated to sound blonde, but she knew she did anyway.

  “We have to dig it out. My guys have saws to remove the slab. Once we unearth the pipe we’ll cut apart the bad section, replace it with new . . . then fill in the slab with new concrete.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped. “So you have to rip up my floors?”

  Leroy removed his baseball cap and scratched what was left of his hair. “The tile has to be knocked out. We can try and pull the carpet up at the seam, but there is a chance it will be damaged and need replacing.”

  Mary shook her head at the magnitude of a simple clogged-up toilet.

  “So you rip it up and put new tile down?”

  Leroy shook his head. “We take care of the pipe, ma’am. We don’t lay tile.”

  Oh, great. “And how long will this take?”

  “We can pull out the tile and rip back the carpet today . . . mark where we need to cut. Might even get some of that cutting down before f
ive. Then we can be back on Monday to pull the rest out. Once I get in there, fixing the pipe is quick. But then we need to fill it all back in. So I should be done by Wednesday unless I find a bigger issue.”

  “Bigger issue?”

  “Yeah . . . there is a junction here that comes from your kitchen. I’ll wanna pull the camera up that way, make sure there isn’t any issues.”

  She did not want to think about pulling up her kitchen floor.

  “Got it . . . okay. How much is this going to cost me?”

  He started to talk about the steps, the things he’d already done. “Cut to the chase, Leroy.”

  “About five.”

  Mary blinked . . . “Five?”

  “Thousand.”

  She choked.

  “You might try and check your homeowners policy, see if this is covered.”

  “And that doesn’t cover fixing the floor once it’s all torn up.”

  Leroy shook his head. “You might have an insurance claim.”

  “Do I have to get their approval if I have a claim?”

  “Nope . . . it’s not like medical insurance. If you’re covered, you present them with a copy of the bill and they reimburse you.”

  That was marginally better.

  “So are we good to go?”

  “I guess.”

  After three hours on the phone with various people at the insurance company, Mary determined that the destruction of the floor was covered, where the pipe and every one of those five thousand dollars to fix it was not. She had an emergency savings for things like this, but five grand was going to seriously cut into that account.

  She was clicking out of her online bank account when her phone rang.

  “So are you coming over now that the masses have left?”

  Dakota always made her smile.

  “You sound awake.”

  “Leo slept for four hours last night, and I had a solid two hours this afternoon. Who knew sleep would be my crack?”

  “All right. Give me five minutes.”

  “I have wine.”

  “Okay, two.”

  Dakota laughed and hung up.

  The plumbers had taped up the area they were going to work from floor to ceiling. A plastic zipper was a walk-through barrier from the front door to the rest of the condo. After making sure the front door was locked, Mary went ahead and used the garage as her entry.

  There was music drifting from Dakota and Walt’s place, and laughter when she let herself in after one knock.

  “We’re back here.”

  Dakota sat at the kitchen counter, her foot elevated on a stool beside her . . . Walt moved around the kitchen assembling food.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Dakota said. “My mother cooks for a village.”

  “I could eat.” Mary glanced around the room to see Leo sleeping in the same place he was the last time she was there. “Does he ever wake up?”

  Both Dakota and Walt laughed. “All night long,” Walt said.

  She detoured to Leo and watched him sleep for a minute. “He is beautiful.”

  “He is, right? Not just . . . you have to say it because you’re my best friend.”

  “No.” His cherub face and tiny pink lips with a tuft of dark hair. And so itty-bitty it was hard not to get caught up in him. “He’s lovely.”

  “How about some wine?” Walt asked.

  “I’d love some.” Mary placed the keys and the remote to her garage on the coffee table and turned to the kitchen. “Can I help with anything?”

  Walt motioned to the stack of raw salad greens on the counter. “Knock yourself out.”

  Mary moved to the sink and turned to Dakota.

  Then her eyes dropped. “Holy cow! When did that happen?”

  Dakota glanced down at her chest and giggled. “My milk came in.”

  Boy did it. Mary had always been a tad envious of her friend’s boobs, but now . . . wow!

  “Do they hurt?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Walt laughed from the stove. “I like ’em.”

  “Such a man.”

  They talked about boobs while Mary prepared a salad.

  “Enough about my rack,” Dakota cut the conversation off. “I wanna hear about Glen.”

  Walt turned off the flame on the stovetop and asked, “What’s up with Glen?”

  Mary glanced at her friend. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Wasn’t my place.”

  “Well?” Walt asked again.

  A measure of surprise that Dakota hadn’t spoken with Walt about the date actually made Mary happy. They could still keep secrets . . . though this one wasn’t meant to be one . . . even though her BFF was married to the love of her life.

  “I have a date with Glen tomorrow night.”

  Walt nodded at the information. “I guess that’s a long time coming.”

  “Where’s he taking you?” Dakota asked.

  “I have no idea. I didn’t ask.”

  “Hmm, well . . . the fact he’s flying in from the East Coast to see you means he’ll figure out someplace nice.”

  “When you say it like that it seems so stupid.”

  “Say it like what?”

  “He’s flying in . . . I said yes to a date with someone who lives in a time zone three hours from my own. That’s crazy.”

  “It’s romantic. I would never have thought of a plot like that.”

  Mary watched as Dakota glanced at the ceiling and smiled. “Oh, no. I know that look.”

  “Brilliant idea. You’ve heard of the May-December romance . . . how about the East-West romance?”

  “I thought you were taking the year off,” Walt chided.

  “I can’t keep down a stellar idea for a novel, Walt. It’s not how it works.”

  He removed a pan of something casserole-ish from the oven as he spoke. “Then jot it down and return to it later.”

  Dakota glanced around, found a pen, and waved it toward the coffee table.

  Mary saw the notepad in question and brought it over. “So what are you going to wear?” Dakota asked.

  “On my date?”

  Dakota rolled her eyes as she kept writing. “No, to bed. Yes on your date!”

  “He suggested a dress.”

  “Nothing floral.” Dakota waved the end of her pen in Mary’s direction. “I know you have two perfect little black dresses.”

  Power dresses, as Dakota had called them when they’d gone shopping the last time they were in New York.

  “Not that I don’t love women’s fashion and hate to change the subject . . . but why are the plumbers always at your house?” Walt asked.

  While they ate dinner, Mary explained her plumbing dilemma and the money it would cost to fix it. “I guess it’s time for me to put in those wood floors I’ve been threatening to do since I moved in.”

  “Yeah, if the insurance company is going to help with the cost, you might as well get something shiny for all your trouble.”

  Dakota glanced around her kitchen and into the living space. Her place had come with hardwood floors, only the honey oak color wasn’t something any of them were excited about. “I’d switch these out if it would make a difference on resale.”

  Mary felt a chill of shock run through her. “Are you thinking of moving?”

  Dakota exchanged glances with Walt. “We’re keeping our options open. This place is going to get smaller as Leo gets bigger.”

  “And the market is turning around,” Walt added.

  She hated the thought of her friend moving away but smiled and agreed anyway. “Any idea where you guys will move?”

  “We haven’t really thought about location . . . just that here isn’t going to work long-term.”

  Mary painted on a fake smile and pushed her plate away. “You know how much I love shopping with other people’s money.”

  “I won’t be up for house shopping until this thing comes off.” Dakota patted the blue cast on her leg and groaned. “I
still can’t believe I broke my damn leg.”

  The conversation drifted to the cast, baby Leo, and the excitement over midday napping while Mary helped Walt with the dishes.

  As Leo started to stir Mary started to make her excuses.

  “I want to hear all about tomorrow’s date,” Dakota said.

  “I don’t.” Walt laughed.

  “I’ll come over Sunday.” Mary let herself out and turned to look back. She hated the poor me thoughts coursing through her veins. Despised the feeling of loneliness when she walked past her car in the garage and into her place.

  It was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  No wonder women pushing thirty owned cats.

  Mary shook her head and muttered to the wall, “I hate cats.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dakota had the best shoes, and Mary felt no shame in borrowing a pricey pair for her date.

  “You’re like a sister I never had,” Mary called out as she ran back home with a pair of Pradas dangling from her fingertips.

  “I want details.”

  Dakota stood in the doorway with crutches. She’d managed to get dressed in something other than sweatpants and was starting to lose the dark circles from under her eyes.

  Something told Mary that Dakota would be sitting at her living room window peeking out when Glen was due to pick her up. The thought delighted her.

  She hadn’t been much of a girlie girl before she’d met Dakota. But her friend had taught her the finer things about being a woman. From the dresses she wore that were snug on her hips and made her sensible “girls” have a little more pow, to the extra eye liner and red on her lips. This was the let’s go out and have fun Mary . . . the Mary that didn’t present herself to her clients, and didn’t appear too often.

  She slid her hands down her hips and turned to the side. The newest of her black power dresses hugged her waist and stopped short of her knees. The cap sleeves offered style to the neckline that dipped low enough to be enticing but high enough to avoid advertising her cup size. Not bad.

  Her mass of curly blonde hair had a mind of its own. She messed with a few bits in the front, put way too much hair spray over them to tame them down, and left it alone. She’d considered putting it up, but Dakota usually helped her with that style and Mary wasn’t about to ask.