The Girl of Diamonds and Rust (The Half Shell Series Book 3) (22 page)

“I’m not that bad.”

Maria tilts her head to the side and gives me
the look
.

“Maria! Stop it. You’re going to hurt my feelings and I haven’t been home five minutes.”

She pats the sofa beside her. “Sit down. Watch our program with me, and help me finish my work.”

I grab a towel from the basket. We sit together, eyes glued on the set, neatly stacking folded laundry on the coffee table. I come home and Maria puts me to work. Some things never change.

Maria shuts off the set, stands up, grabs the empty laundry basket from the couch and puts the piles of towels in it.

She points. “Carry that for me, Chrissie. I need to put it away.”

My eyes widen in surprise. She’s never asked me to do anything except help her fold, but then she’s not as young as she used to be.

I follow her down the back hallway to the linen closet, holding the basket until she’s emptied it again.

“Put it on the floor and come to my room with me,” she orders.

I set down the basket and follow her. When I enter her bedroom she is rummaging through her armoire. She turns back to face me and my heart drops to the floor.

“I did not keep this from you, chica. It came last week. I did not know how to send it to you, but I kept it because I knew you were coming home.”

She sets the envelope in my trembling hands and tears burn behind my lids. There is no return address, but I don’t need one to know who it is from. I recognize the handwriting with an instant jab to my heart.

I stare at it. Ten months. A single letter. Alan wouldn’t return a phone call, but he sent this. I get a single letter ten months later, probably just a briefly penned note to tell me to
buzz off
since I pathetically called him repeatedly after we first broke up.

I can’t feel my arms. I can’t feel my legs. I can’t breathe. I desperately want to open it.
No, Chrissie, no. Be smart.

I shove it back at Maria. “Rip it up. Throw it away. And if he sends more don’t give them to me.”

I leave the room before Maria can answer me and rush down the hallway to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me and stand in the middle of the room, staring, trying to figure out if I should run back in there for Alan’s letter.

Do I retrieve it before Maria can destroy it? Or is it better never to read it?

I breathe in. I breathe out. Slowly I become aware that the trembling in me has stopped. I’m surprised by how quickly it left me. I’ve never before driven away the
Alan internally messy
so quickly. I feel myself easing into comfortable order again. It’s a new feeling, really good, and I know with a certainty that not reading his letter was the best thing for me.

OK, Alan panic attack over. But new panic is here to replace it.

What the hell do I do alone in Santa Barbara for two weeks? Rene’s not here. Neil’s not here. I don’t have any friends, not really. There’s Jack. But I can’t exactly hang exclusively with my dad all day. How pathetic that would be.

Shit, Chrissie, why didn’t you think of this before you came home?
I’m never more alone than when I am in Santa Barbara, which is so bizarre because this is home.

I drop to my knees beside my suitcase and rummage through my clothes for my bathing suit. I quickly change, grab a towel, shove some things into a small carry tote, and head for the beach.

Sun. I’ll lie in the sun. Sun makes everything less awful.

I cut across the lawn to the steps built into the cliffs. I look in both directions. No one. Perfect. Not even Jack.

I trot down the steps and settle in a lush spot not littered with driftwood and seaweed. After spreading out my towel, I lie down on my stomach.

My mobile phone rings and I tense, wondering if it’s Neil and if this is how the two weeks apart are going to be, him calling me endlessly.

Then I chide myself for the snotty thought as I search in my bag for the phone, and I admit that I’m already kind of missing him.
Not kind of, Chrissie. You do miss Neil.

Less than a day apart from him and I really miss him. I didn’t expect that. Nor did I expect it to be a surprisingly nice feeling. It’s so unlike me, but I’ve had two uncharacteristic nice feelings in a single day: not completely melting down over Alan and missing Neil.

I flip my phone open and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Chrissie, I’m not bothering you, am I?”

Michelle Stanton
. A smile covers my face because Neil’s mother is such a sweetheart and I’m more than a little thrilled that she called.

I sit up. “You’re not bothering me. I’m just lying out on the beach.”

“You take calls on the beach?”

She laughs and I shake my head. She makes that sound like the strangest thing in the world to her.

“Where I go, my mobile goes. You raised a worrier, Michelle. If Neil can’t reach me by phone he starts to call nonstop.”

She sighs.

“Yes, that boy is a worrier. Always has been. I haven’t the first clue why he’s that way. I think Neil was just born a worrier. But it’s sort of sweet that he cares so much that it’s important to him to talk to you, isn’t it?”

I’ve never looked at it that way before. “Very sweet.” I curl around the phone, hugging my knees. “So what’s up? You didn’t call just to discuss Neil.”

She laughs. “No. A smart mother stays out of their children’s relationships. We’re supposed to have lunch tomorrow. Remember?”

“Of course I remember. Where do you want to meet up?”

A long pause. “I’m not really sure I’d know any restaurants you’d like, dear.”

I bite back my laughter, but the
any restaurants you’d like, dear
makes my smile grow. “I’m pretty much good with anywhere.”

“I think Mia is going to join us. Perhaps we should let Mia pick where we go.”

This time I can’t hold back my laughter.
So she doesn’t know where Neil gets his worrying? Oh, Michelle, he gets it from you, and all we’re trying to do is figure out a place to eat.

“Why don’t we all meet at your house tomorrow at noon?” I offer, surprising myself. “I’ll drive. We can just figure it out after I get there.”

“Perfect.” She sounds relieved. “See ya tomorrow, Chrissie.”

“See ya, Michelle.”

See ya
. Something else Neil got from his mother. I toss my phone onto my bag and lie on my back, shading my eyes with an arm.

Funny, but I never noticed before how much like his mother Neil is. His at times extreme worrying over nothing. That’s Michelle.
See ya
. That’s Michelle. How considerate and understanding he is. Michelle. He’s just like his mother.

I crinkle up my nose. I wonder if I’m just like Jack. Nope, not going to go there. I wish I could remember my mother better. I wish I knew if I was like Lena. But I don’t remember her well so I won’t ever know if I’m like her or more like Jack.

I roll back onto my stomach, almost decide to go sleep, then I reach for my mobile phone. Four hours in Santa Barbara and Neil hasn’t called yet. It surprises me.

I grab the phone and punch in the numbers for his mobile.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Chrissie,” is whispered into the receiver.

I laugh, and everything inside me starts to warm. “God, you sound like such a pervert when you say my name that way. It isn’t the least bit sexy, Neil.”

His laughter sounds rough, a touch gravelly. “I’m not trying to be sexy. My voice is shit today.”

I make a pout, even though he can’t see it through the phone. “Sorry. You didn’t call me after I landed. I was wondering if you forgot about me.”

“Nope. That’s not going to happen, not ever.”

I smile. “Well, I don’t want to wear out your voice. You sound awful today. I’ll let you go.”

“No.” This word is spoken on just a breath.

“No?”

“I know you hate the sappy shit, but I really do miss you. I really do wish you were here.”

“I miss you, too.” How quickly I say that surprises me.

“I hate the road without you, Chrissie.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Have fun in Santa Barbara. I didn’t mean to be such a downer before you left. I get why you went home. Everyone needs time alone to think. You always run home when you need to think. Think about us getting married, will you?”

Shit. How did he know that was partly the reason I left?

I change the subject. “Do you think I’m like my dad?”

His laughter comes loudly and more gravelly. “Shit, Chrissie, you’re exactly like Jack.”

I scrunch up my face. “Really?”

“Yep.” A few minutes of quiet, and then he says, “You’re both pains in the ass.”

I burst out laughing. I don’t want to laugh, but Neil is probably right.

“I love you anyway, baby,” he whispers into the phone.

“I love you, even though you’re exactly like your mother,” I taunt.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Laughing, I click off the phone.

~~~

I park in the Stantons’ driveway and sit in the car, staring at the house.

I love this house. A small, lively blue bungalow with white shutters and a pretty porch crowded with plants and furnishings. It’s the kind of place I imagine when you have to imagine
home
in a story and the author doesn’t help you by providing a description. The iconic Americana image of home, California-style, crowded with a loud, rowdy, outdoors-loving family.

Yep, that’s the Stantons. Even if Neil does like to say he was raised in the 6-6-6, which pisses me off because his family is wonderful and should never be compared to the
satanic
, but I know that isn’t how he means it. It’s just Santa Barbara code for the rougher neighborhoods on the eastside—six blocks from the beach, six blocks from State Street, and six blocks from school—the 6-6-6.

I crinkle my nose, I definitely don’t like that, and pull my keys from the ignition. I climb from the car, hurry up the walkway, and then pull back the black iron security screen and knock on the door.

Lots of sound comes from inside, then the door is jerked wide and Mia Stanton, her pretty face bright with excited welcoming, closes in on me as she grabs me in a fast, exuberant hug.

“Chrissie. I’m so happy you’re home.”

I pull back smiling. “I’m happy, too. It’s great to see you, Mia.”

She makes a motion with her arm. “Come on in. Michelle is still getting ready.” She leans into me, whispering, “She’s changed her clothes three times. She’s driving me crazy. So wants to make a good impression on our—and I quote—‘first girls’ day out with my future daughter-in-law.’”

I grimace.
Oh shit, Neil, why did you tell your mother you asked me to marry you? Fudge.

Mia reads my face without effort and grimaces in sympathy. “I shouldn’t have said that, should I? Now I’ve made everything all awkward and shit. I’m sorry, Chrissie. We tell each other everything. It’s just the way large families are, and Neil couldn’t have asked you to marry him without finding out if Michelle approved. They’re really tight. And we know you said
no
. But Michelle is an eternal optimist.”

By the time her rambling chatter finishes I want to drop through the floor.
Jeez, this is awful. Lunch is going to be a nightmare.

Mia crinkles her nostrils. “That didn’t help, did it?”

I laugh. “No.”

She gives me a one-arm, wraparound hug. “Don’t worry. It will all be fine. Lunch will be fine. Let me go get Aunt Michelle.”

I watch Mia disappear down the hall and I sink to sit on a sofa. My leg starts jiggling and I try to will it to stop, but I can’t.

A few minutes later, Mia returns with Michelle, and the way Neil’s mother smiles at me puts my unease instantly at rest. There is nothing but welcome on her face. If she resents me turning down her son’s proposal it doesn’t show, and the way she smiles is so like Neil’s I feel a little twinge of missing him again. He doesn’t look like his mother—she is blond-haired and brown-eyed—but their smiles are the same.

I stand up before they reach the sofa.

“I’m so glad you wanted to do this, dear,” she says, leaning in to hug me. She stops and hold up one hand. “It is OK that I hug you, isn’t it? Or would it be weird? I never know what’s correct nowadays.”

I laugh, wondering how I could have ever thought Michelle would make today awkward for me. “Of course. If you don’t hug me you’ll hurt my feelings and make me think you don’t like me.”

“Then I better hug you quickly, because I adore you, Chrissie.”

She gives me a breezy embrace, but steps back from me quickly. She looks around the living room.

“I think we’re ready to go,” she announces dramatically, and I stifle a laugh.

We go out the front door and pile into my car.

I put the key into the ignition. “Where does everyone want to go?”

Michelle turns slightly toward me from the passenger seat. “Well, it’s your birthday. This lunch is sort of your day. You should pick where we go, Chrissie.”

I smile. “Michelle, my birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

She smiles back. “But I won’t see you tomorrow so today is your birthday for me.”

My cheeks warm. The way she says that makes me feel really good, special. “OK. I know just the place.”

Two hours later we’re sitting on the upstairs patio of a restaurant on the pier. It’s a brilliantly sunny day, and there are people everywhere, walking on the beach and along the waterfront.

I curl in my chair, my flip-flops discarded under the table, my heals balancing on the edge of the seat with my legs bent in front of me, listening to Mia and Michelle’s endless chatting. The Stantons sure can talk a lot.

I smile and take a sip of my wine. I haven’t been to this restaurant since I came here with Neil on our first date-date. It didn’t occur to me until the hostess directed us to a table that the last time I was here was with Neil.

God, how awkward that was. We hardly spoke to each other. But the night definitely ended amazingly. The memories warm my cheeks and send emotion pulsing through me.

Michelle shifts her gaze to me. “What are you thinking about, dear? You look lost in your thoughts.”