Now That You Mention It: A Novel

by Kristan Higgins

  “What a surprise,” I said.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  He looked constipated, so I knew something was up. Ah, here it was. Gloria gave him a sharp jab in the back.

  “Uh, Nora,” he said, “I’m very sorry for misrepresenting you to Gloria.”

  “As you should be.” I folded my arms.

  He sighed the sigh of a man forced to do something against his will.

  “And why did you lie, Robert?” Gloria asked.

  Another sigh. “I was trying to make myself more interesting than I actually am.”

  “Ooh,” I said in admiration. “Gloria, wow. Well done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bobby rolled his eyes.

  Hard to believe I once felt so lucky to be with this guy, the self-centered ass. “You’re dating out of your league here, Bobby. Good luck keeping her.”

  I started off, then felt a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, too,” Gloria said. “I have a shitty track record with men, and I thought dimwit here was gonna be different, so I was defensive and believed his bullshit.”

  “I’m hardly a dimwit,” Bobby grumbled.

  “Shut up. Anyway—” Gloria shrugged “—I hope we can... I don’t know. At least work together like we did before.”

  “You bet,” I said. “Come on, Boomer.”

  There was such a freedom in truly not caring.

  I drove home, let Boomer out of the car and watched as he raced into the woods, nose to the ground.

  The pine-salt air felt so good to breathe. The tide was high, the water calm, baby waves lapping at the edges of the cove, the wind rustling the long grass of the meadow. From somewhere in the woods, Boomer barked twice.

  I’d miss the houseboat, that was for sure. But Poe had been isolated enough, and even if Collier Rhodes would let me buy this place (and if I could afford it), it was too isolated for my niece. Jim Ivansky, the nice Realtor, had found a house in town for me. Something permanent. My furniture, so carefully and joyfully chosen, was waiting, and Poe and I could buy new stuff, too. It would be our house. Our home.

  God. My muscles were definitely seizing up now. I let myself into the houseboat, put my bag on the counter and found myself face-to-face with Luke Fletcher.

  He was high. Pupils like pinpricks, a muscle in his face twitching. With one hand, he was scratching his arm.

  In the other hand was a knife. The big knife for chopping vegetables.

  For a second, all I saw was white. My mind emptied completely. I was just gone in a wave of fear so big and absolute that there was no room for anything else.

  And then I was back, in my kitchen, wearing my running clothes, feeling the gentle rock of the houseboat.

  With a knife-wielding junkie.

  “What can I help you with, Luke?” I asked. My voice was calm.

  “Where do you keep your prescription pad?” he asked.

  “At the clinic. What have you taken?” My legs felt wriggly with adrenaline.

  “I need something. Vicodin. You got Vicodin?”

  “I don’t keep drugs here. Are you okay? Do you want me to call Sully?”

  Wrong thing to say. He started tapping the knife tip against the counter. “Do you want me to call Sully?” he mimicked, same as he used to. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? You think I’m stupid. You think you can steal my family the way you stole my scholarship?”

  “Oh, Jesus, not that again.”

  “Fuck you.” He gave a little lunge forward, knife pointed at me, and the fear flashed, lighting up all the old hurts. I might’ve flinched, and I was definitely trembling now.

  “I could kill you, you know,” he said with a mean smile. “Bash your head in and dump you in the water and everyone would think you were a big fat bitch who fell.”

  “I guess that’s possible.” Ironically, I felt a flash of pity for Luke, this golden boy turned nothing.

  “You’re not staying here. You’re not taking my brother and Audrey and brainwashing them. You stole enough from me. Get out on the dock, you fat bitch. Time for you to go.”

  Something snapped inside me.

  The fear was gone, and in its place was molten fury.

  “I didn’t steal anything. I earned that scholarship. And I did something with it. I’m a doctor, you piece of shit. I help people. You were on the road to destruction long before you lost that scholarship. And you’re right. It was yours to lose, and you lost it. You could’ve gone to another school, but you decided to get high and crash your car, and it was Sully who paid the price. Take a hard look around, Luke. You’re a pathetic junkie living off his brother’s generosity. So stop whining and get off my boat.”

  This time, he did lunge, and I jerked away, but not fast enough for a meth-stoked addict. He looped a strong arm around my neck and held me against him, knife at my ear. His breath was foul.

  Poe. Mom. Lily. Sullivan. Audrey. Xiaowen.

  Luke wrangled me out the door, so he could bash my head in on the dock, I guessed. Unfortunately, I had a problem with that plan.

  The second we were on the dock, I elbowed him in the stomach, bit his arm as hard as I could, turned and heel-palmed his face, feeling the crunch of cartilage as I smashed his nose. He yelped and fell back onto the dock, and I stomped on his nuts as hard as I could, getting a scream.

  Guess that self-defense class had been worth every cent.

  Then there was a blur of black and brown and a snarling so ferocious, for a second I thought it was a bear.

  But it was Boomer, who sank his teeth into Luke’s arm and shook it so hard Luke looked like a rag doll. The Dog of Dogs. I watched for a second, then said, “Boomer! Off!”

  He obeyed, a meaty growl in his throat, his teeth exposed. “Don’t move,” I said to Luke. His sleeve was wet with blood. Kinda hard to feel bad about that. “Boomer, good boy. Good boy. Stay.”

  Going inside, I took my phone out of my bag and dialed 911, asked for cops and an ambulance. Then I got my first-aid kit.

  After all, I was a doctor.

  Epilogue

  A year later, Poe got her driver’s license, and we threw a celebration party, since it had been her third try. Mom and Donna, Sullivan and Audrey, Xiaowen and Richard (Georgie, the hotel owner, turned out to be gay).

  We’d decorated in yellow and crimson—Gryffindor colors, of course. Streamers dangled from the porch, and we had Harry Potter paper plates and napkins. Reading Harry Potter had been my one requirement for Poe to live with me, I’d said, and she grudgingly opened the book, only to fall under its spell immediately. Like the rest of the world, thank you very much.

  Poe’s other friends were here, too—Bella Hurley, daughter of the former Cheeto Carmella Hurley, and Henry McShane, who had a huge crush on her, as well as six or seven kids from the track team, as Poe had taken up running. So had Audrey. She’d shot up four inches this past year, now that her Cushing’s disease was cured, and dropped a lot of weight. She was happy and lovely, and I adored her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in line to win the Perez Scholarship, her grades were so good.

  Even Teeny Fletcher was here. She’d finally acknowledged that Luke had crossed the line. And yeah, she’d be my mother-in-law pretty soon. We’d never be best friends, but we could get along.

  I’d thought Sully might kill Luke that day. Somehow, he’d gotten there before anyone else and had started beating his brother to a pulp until I forced my way in between them. Between Sullivan and Boomer—and me—Luke had hardly been a threat at the moment.

  Luke was now in jail and sober, too. Sully said if he saw his brother on the island, he’d drown him himself.

  But late one night as I sat out on the deck alone, I realized something.

  If Luke had killed me that day, I would’ve died not on a di
rty street in Boston, wondering about who’d take care of my dog, but with a heart full of love for Poe, my mom and this place. I would’ve died full of color, not grayness—the blue sky, the deep green of the pines, the mercurial colors of the ocean, the pink-and-apricot sunsets. I would’ve died knowing what it was like to be loved by a truly good man.

  “You’re the bravest person I know,” Sully had said to me that day, and he held me for a long, long time. His eyes were wet when he pulled back.

  The bravest person. I’d take it.

  A roar of laughter came from the porch where the teenagers had settled. My niece’s hair was pink now, and it suited her. Our eyes met, and her smile was everything.

  Lily was still in jail. Poe talked to her almost every week; Lily had been better about calling. My sister wouldn’t talk to me on the phone, but that was okay. I’d talked to the prison doctor about medication, and she said she’d work figuring out the right balance of medication and therapy for my sister. Otherwise, I stayed out of it, realizing Lily needed to find her own way.

  I sent her a picture of the carving.

  Nora and Lily, together forever.

  And we were together, more now than in the past two decades, because Lily was with me in the form of her child. I didn’t know what would happen when she got out...but you never knew what life held. I had never expected to be back here, after all.

  The fragrant pink roses on the side of our little house were in full bloom, filling the air with their smell. I looked up at the sky, so blue and clear today.

  Somewhere up there was my father. Watch over us, Daddy, I thought. Take care of Lily.

  “Happy?” Sullivan asked.

  “Happy,” I signed back. While his lip-reading was excellent, I didn’t think he should have to do all the work all the time. Besides, signing was fun. Sully’s hearing had slipped away significantly this past year. He didn’t complain. He never did.

  And the sign for happy was to place your hands in front of your chest and gesture outward while you smiled. A glad heart, overflowing with love.

  Which, now that you mention it, was exactly how I felt.

  Dear Lily,

  Poe is doing so well in school. She came in third to last in the cross-country meet, and at the end, she sprinted across the finish line, and you should’ve heard us screaming for her! Mom just about had a coronary. I felt like she won the Olympics.

  It’s late here, and I can smell wood smoke. The waves are breaking on the rocks, hissing over the pebbles on their way back into the ocean. Pretty soon, it’ll be too cold to sit outside at night for very long.

  The stars are so bright tonight. Until you can come home and see them for yourself, I’ll look at them for you.

  Love,

  Nora

  * * * * *

  Acknowledgments

  Many, many thanks to Julia Kristan, RN (and also my beloved godchild), for her help in procedure and terminology, especially in the ER scenes. Thanks also to Mighty Jeff Pinco, MD, for always being willing to give medical advice on anything from my skin rashes to how fast a car would have to be going to kill me if I were on a pizza run and jaywalked. You’re the best, Dr. J! Any mistakes are mine, all mine.

  Thanks also to:

  Firefighter Kori Kelly, who shared her experiences with hearing loss and auditory processing disorder; to my interns: Jessica Hoops and Lillie Johnson, who did such good and thorough work for me over the past two summers; to Jennifer Schulten, founder of the Go Far program, which has inspired thousands of kids to get outside and exercise, learn the joys of teamwork and see just how far they can go in life; Wendy Xu, creator of Angry Girl Comics and sensitivity editor extraordinaire, thank you for your help with the character of Xiaowen, who is now even more kick-ass because of your input; to my friend, the great writer Sherry Thomas, for allowing me to borrow her name; to the PlotMonkeys, who make me laugh till I’m sore and whose wonderful writerly advice improves every book. Huntley, Shaunee, Stacia, Karen and Jen—thank you. And thanks to my book club, who insisted that Tweety be included in a story.

  I am ever indebted to the wonderful team at Harlequin, headed up by my editor, Susan Swinwood, with huge thanks to Dianne Moggy, Michelle Renaud and all the people who work so hard on my books. Sarah Burningham at Little Bird Publicity dazzles me with her enthusiasm, creativity and energy. And thanks to the amazing Mel Jolly for remembering everything I forget and doing everything I can’t.

  Maria Carvainis, my agent, has held my hand for more than ten years now. Madame, thank you for your faith in this middle child. Thanks also to the warm and wonderful Elizabeth Copps and Martha Guzman at Maria Carvainis Agency, Inc.

  The spouse of a writer is required to endure long silences when the writer is thinking, non sequiturs in almost every conversation, distraction, eavesdropping, discouragement and a lot of nonsensical babbling. I am absolutely positive no one does this better than mine. Thank you, honey.

  Thanks to my daughter and son, the lights of my life, for just being exactly how you are. I love you more than I could ever say.

  And thank you, readers. Thank you for giving me the gift of your time. It means the world to me.

  For Book Club Discussion

  Now That You Mention It starts off with Nora being hit by a vehicle while crossing the street. It’s an event that has her taking stock of her life (“As one does,” she says). Why do you think that moment—and not the home invasion—caused her to reevaluate? Have you ever stopped to reassess where your life was heading, your relationship or career? Was it triggered by a surprising event, like Nora’s?

  Nora divides her life into before and after—before she won the Perez Scholarship and after. Do you think that a person can completely start over? What does Nora carry from the island that both hurts and helps her?

  A home invasion is every woman’s nightmare, and something most of us have imagined. Nora struggles with what she’s always thought she’d do in this type of situation and the reality of just surviving the ordeal. It’s a pivotal scene in the book. Discuss how differently Bobby and Sullivan react to it, and how Nora deals with its aftermath.

  Nora’s mother is a capable woman, and though Nora doesn’t feel close to her, she admires her. What did you think of Sharon Stuart and some of the decisions she made during her daughters’ childhoods?

  Nora feels a sense of failure in her relationship with her sister and wants to connect with Poe almost to make up for it. Did Poe remind you of any teenagers in your own life?

  The theme of female friendship is a strong one throughout the book, as is the idea of a family of choice. Though Nora wishes she could be close with her sister, Lily doesn’t cooperate. What did you think of Lily as a sister, daughter and mother?

  Sullivan Fletcher carries the effects from an accident without complaint. He says at one point that some people are better at handling loss than others. His brother, on the other hand, can’t move on. Why did you think Sully was better adjusted than his twin (and mother)? What in his life and past might’ve been different from Luke’s?

  The book begins with what Nora thinks is a near-death experience. Her encounter with Luke mirrors that. How is she different at the end of the story? How has she changed throughout the book?

  “[An] emotionally compelling story [and] perceptive study of love, marriage, sisterhood, and loyalty. A powerful, emotionally textured winner.”

  —Kirkus Reviews on If You Only Knew

  If you loved Now That You Mention It, then be sure to catch

  On Second Thought

  Simply unforgettable and thoroughly captivating, you won’t want to miss this story by New York Times bestselling sensation Kristan Higgins

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  An NPR Great Read of 2015 and a BookPage Best Romance of the Year, don’t miss

  If You Only Knew,

 
a funny, frank and bittersweet look at sisters, marriage and moving on…

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  “Higgins’ tender, heartfelt If You Only Knew bridges the gap between romance and women’s fiction.”

  —BookPage, a “Best Romance of the Year”

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  ISBN-13: 9781488029264

  Now That You Mention It

  Copyright © 2017 by Kristan Higgins

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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