by Gerri Hill
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Table of Contents
Cover
Synopsis
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Books by Gerri Hill
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Bella Books
Synopsis
When Laura Fry returns to her childhood home to care for her mother, she hopes the writer’s block that has swallowed her writing career will disappear. She doesn’t plan on turning into a “yard girl”, but her mother’s long neglected lawn beckons her to return it to the lush and colorful display it had been before her mother’s accident. Laura also doesn’t plan on making friends with the “nympho lesbian” next door—but she finds it impossible not to watch the parade of playmates that show up at her neighbor’s pool.
Cassidy Anderson likes pool parties and female company. And while the pool remains the same, the female company changes nearly every weekend. As her mid-forties approach at an alarming speed, she’s still searching for the love of her life. When she finds herself seeking out the company of the cute tomboy next door, Cassidy starts to think that maybe she’s been looking in all the wrong places. Could it possibly be the neighbor who holds the key to her heart?
Copyright © 2018 by Gerri Hill
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2018
eBook released 2018
Editor: Medora MacDougall
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-1-59493-600-5
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Other Bella Books by Gerri Hill
Angel Fire
Artist’s Dream
At Seventeen
Behind the Pine Curtain
Chasing a Brighter Blue
The Cottage
Coyote Sky
Dawn of Change
Devil’s Rock
Gulf Breeze
Hell’s Highway
Hunter’s Way
In the Name of the Father
Keepers of the Cave
The Killing Room
The Locket
Love Waits
The Midnight Moon
No Strings
One Summer Night
Paradox Valley
Partners
Pelican’s Landing
The Rainbow Cedar
The Roundabout
The Secret Pond
Sawmill Springs
The Scorpion
Sierra City
Snow Falls
Storms
The Target
Weeping Walls
About the Author
Gerri Hill has thirty-four published works, including the 2017 GCLS winner Paradox Valley, 2014 GCLS winner The Midnight Moon, 2011, 2012 and 2013 winners Devil’s Rock, Hell’s Highway and Snow Falls, and the 2009 GCLS winner Partners, the last book in the popular Hunter Series, as well as the 2013 Lambda finalist At Seventeen.
Gerri lives in south-central Texas, only a few hours from the Gulf Coast, a place that has inspired many of her books. With her partner, Diane, they share their life with two Australian shepherds—Casey and Cooper—and a couple of furry felines.
For more, visit her website at gerrihill.com.
Chapter One
Laura Fry stood at the edge of the driveway, looking at the two-story house she’d grown up in. Memories flashed through her mind quickly—like playing on the swing on the old oak tree in the back—bringing a smile to her face. Unfortunately, the swing was long gone. Then her eyes landed on the wheelchair ramp, and her smile vanished as quickly as it had come. With a sigh, she closed the door to her car, not even bothering to take anything with her. The car was packed to the gills with her stuff but…she could always change her mind. Couldn’t she?
“No, you can’t,” she murmured. Her sister would kill her.
She still couldn’t believe that Carla had talked her into this. Guilted her into it was more like it. Yeah, yeah…Carla was married. Carla had two kids. Carla had a real job. Laura? Not so much.
She took the steps to the front door instead of using the ramp. She noted the house was badly in need of a paint job. The flowerbeds were filled with weeds, not flowers. The yard needed to be mowed. She paused at the door, hand raised. Should she knock? Should she knock and wait or should she knock and go inside? Frankie wasn’t here, she reminded herself. No need to be hesitant about going inside. She took a deep breath, then tapped her knuckles three or four times on the door.
“It’s unlocked,” a voice called from inside. Her mother’s voice.
With another deep breath, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Her mother was in the short entryway, waiting. Not using her walker, which Carla said she should be using. No, she was in the wheelchair. For effect. For sympathy. For guilt, maybe.
Well, this is getting off to a fine start.
/> “Hello, Mom,” she said dryly.
Her mother pursed her lips together. “Laura. I hardly recognized you. Have you gained weight again?”
Again? I’m going to kill Carla for making me do this!
But she forced a smile to her face. As much of one as she could muster, that is. “No, I haven’t. At least I don’t think so. My clothes still fit.”
“And what have you done to your hair? It’s certainly not flattering on you.”
Laura reached up, touching her now shorter locks. Dare she tell her she had a breakdown one day and cut it herself? No. As she’d told Thomas, she needed a change. It took him an hour to fix her mess. She liked it now. But she voiced none of that to her mother. Instead, she walked closer. “Are you having a bad day? Carla said you weren’t supposed to use the wheelchair. She said you could get around with the walker.”
“How would she know? She’s come by only once since…since the funeral, as if I can manage on my own.” Her eyes narrowed. “But at least she bothered to come by. You? How long has it been?”
Laura mentally threw up her hands. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But, no. She could do neither. Her mother was in a wheelchair, for God’s sake. She couldn’t just walk out on her. She wasn’t however, going to play games.
“I don’t know how long it’s been, Mom. How long were you married to that jerk? Seven years?”
“Laura Sue Fry! The man has been buried less than a week. Have you no decency?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I hated the man, Mom.”
Her mother raised her chin. “He was my husband,” she said, as if that mattered.
“He was an obnoxious jerk! Nobody liked him! Nobody could stand to be around him!”
“You never took the time to get to know him. He was a good man.”
“No. Dad was a good man. Frankie didn’t come close.”
“Your father left me a widow at fifty-eight. What was I to do? Live the best years of my life alone?”
“No, Mom. But you didn’t give it a chance. You grabbed the first jerk that came along. You let him move in with you!”
“I’ll not have you talk about Frankie that way!”
She pointed at the wheelchair. “He’s the reason you’re in that chair! He’s the reason you can’t live alone at the young age of sixty-five!”
Her mother stared at her in disbelief. “How dare you?”
“I dare because it’s the truth.”
Her mother spun her chair around. “You are simply too hard to get along with. You always were. Your father spoiled you rotten! I told Carla this would never work.”
“So did I! She made me come anyway,” she yelled to her mother’s retreating back. She grabbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed it.
Well, that actually went better than I expected.
Chapter Two
“You knew that was going to happen. Mom knew you were going to talk trash about Frankie and you knew she was going to yell at you. It’s over with. Now go unpack your car and move into your old room.”
“You live forty-five minutes away,” Laura complained. “Why the hell am I moving in with her? Ever since Dad died, we haven’t gotten along.”
“No. Ever since Frankie, you haven’t gotten along,” her sister clarified.
“Yeah, funny how that happened at exactly the same time!”
“We had six months with her. You two were as close as ever, if you recall. Frankie is gone now. Maybe it’s time you grew up and gave her a second chance.”
“Grow up? Says the woman who still sleeps in Mickey Mouse pajamas.”
Carla laughed. “How do you even know that?”
Laura sighed. “You’re probably right. I’ll give it one month.”
“And then what? We can’t afford to have someone check in on her daily. She can’t manage on her own. Since the accident—”
“Which he caused,” she interjected.
“Frankie did everything. He cooked, he did laundry, he cleaned the house. He even—”
“Look, I didn’t come here to be a damn maid.”
“Laura…we talked about this. You’re leaving an apartment you could no longer afford. This is a win for you. Mom pays the bills, Mom pays for groceries…you cook and do her laundry.”
“Just because I’ve hit a rough spot doesn’t mean I need to mooch off Mom. This is a temporary arrangement. As soon as I get another book deal, I’m out of here.”
“Of course.”
“You said that too quickly,” she accused.
“I did not. This will give you more time to write.”
Laura wrinkled up her nose. “More time? How do you figure? I’ll be cooking—which I hate—and cleaning and doing the freakin’ laundry!”
“Well…you’re in a mood.”
“That’s because I’m stuck here against my will!”
“Can I help it if I have a family to take care of? A husband? Twins? A job?”
“You’re patronizing me!”
Carla laughed. “Okay, yeah. I guess I am. But you’re overreacting. You just need to give it a chance. It will do you good—both of you—to spend time together.”
“I hate you.”
“Now I know you don’t mean that. You have a good week, a good weekend. I’ll see you next Thursday. I’ll bring pizza or something.”
“I still hate you.”
“I love you, sis.”
“Love you too,” she murmured as she tossed her phone onto the passenger’s seat. She leaned back, staring at the house. She could do this. Carla was right. She and her mother used to be close. She and her mother used to talk. In fact, in those six months after her father had died, they’d talked almost daily.
Then Frankie came into the picture. She honestly didn’t know if she hated him because he was an obnoxious jerk or if she hated him because he was living in her dad’s house, sleeping in her dad’s bed.
“Or both.”
Well, she couldn’t hide in her car forever. She got out, then grabbed a couple of clothes bags. She hadn’t been here in seven years. Who knew what her old bedroom looked like? Frankie probably turned it into a game room or something.
But no. Her old room looked the same. Same bedspread, that’s for sure. That would be the first thing to go. She tossed her bags on the bed, covering some of the hideous roses. She went back out into the hallway and peeked into her sister’s old room. It, too, looked the same. The bathroom between the two rooms was different, though. New tile. New fixtures. She stood in the hallway and surveyed the upstairs. Yes, this might just work. She’d have the second floor to herself. Her parents’ bedroom—now her mother’s—had always been downstairs. Now that her mother could no longer manage the stairs, she’d at least have some privacy up here. Perhaps she could turn her sister’s room into her writing room.
She went back into her own room, pulling open drawers. Everything was completely empty, including the closet. That seemed odd to her. Surely she hadn’t taken everything when she’d left. She pushed apart the drapes that covered the large back window, hoping to get a view of the woods she’d loved as a kid. She frowned. The once familiar view of trees—woods—was gone. A house was there instead. A huge house. A house with a pool, which she could just see a corner of. A tall privacy fence separated her mother’s property from next door. When had that gone up? She’d been so dreading her move here, she hadn’t even noticed it earlier.
But who the hell had bought the woods? Who would tear down those beautiful trees and put in a house and pool?
She hurried back down the stairs, finding her mother in the kitchen, attempting to reach the microwave. A frozen Weight Watchers dinner was on the counter.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“Mom…I’m supposed to cook, remember?”
“Yes, well, Frankie’s been gone six days. How do you think I’ve managed thus far?”
She took the dinner and tossed it back into the freezer but not bef
ore she spotted the six or eight additional dinners that were in there.
“You’ve been shopping?”
“I haven’t left the house. Carla got those for me.”
Laura put her hands on her hips. “I know you can get around with the walker, Mom. Why the chair? Or is it just for my benefit?”
“I don’t know what you mean. The walker is difficult. Slow.”
“At least you’re on your feet.” She bent down to eye level. “The doctor said the more you walk, the stronger you’ll become.”
“How would you know what the doctor said?”
“I did come to the hospital,” she reminded her.
Her mother waved her hand in the air. “That was three years ago. That doctor didn’t know what he was talking about. Why, if not for Frankie, I’d practically be an invalid.”
Laura bit her tongue. If not for Frankie, she wouldn’t be in the damn wheelchair to begin with. What was it? He blacked out? Or he swerved to miss a dog? She’d heard both stories. Somehow, she suspected neither was true. Regardless, he’d smashed the car into a tree. He walked away from the crash with nothing more than a few bruises. Her mother? Broken back. Broken pelvis. Broken legs. Broken body.
But…she wasn’t going to go there. Not now. So she took a step away and held up her hands.
“Truce, please. Let me get a few things in from the car, then I’ll see about dinner. Do you have anything here other than these frozen things?”
“There’s a chest freezer out in the garage. I don’t know what’s all in there. Frankie did the cooking. And the shopping.”
And the laundry and the cleaning, Laura added silently. Maybe she’d been too hard on old Frankie. He lived with her mother. He did everything around the house. The man was apparently a saint. Except he wasn’t.
“Oh, who bought the lot next door?”
“Some woman from Dallas. Not friendly in the least. Frankie tried to make friends. Several times he went over there while they were building. She would hardly give him the time of day, he said. Next thing we knew, that huge fence was put up.”
Again, she bit her tongue. Frankie was always rough around the edges. Obnoxious. One of those guys who had been there, done that—only much better. Loud. Laughed at his own stupid jokes. A jerk. Yeah, she’d have probably put up a fence too.
