Change of Heart (The True Heart Series Book 3) Page 11

  “Let me guess. You’re going to become a wedding planner,” Steph said bitterly.

  “Steph...” Rosa said in a warning tone. “We’re past all that.” She turned cold eyes to Carrie. “Aren’t we?”

  “Sure,” Carrie said. She looked down at Susan and said warmly, “I’m trying to start a new life.”

  “Good,” Rosa said. “That’s good.”

  Carrie took this as an invitation to tell more. “I’m going to start a transportation business for elderly people. So I need a van with a lift. That way I can assist the wheelchair-bound. I can pick them up for shopping, doctor appointments, or social calls.”

  “That’s a good idea. It will improve the quality of their lives.” Tess looked at the others and explained, “Without transportation, the senior citizen’s world gets smaller and smaller.” She was trying hard to channel her inner social worker. She grudgingly admitted Carrie’s idea was admirable. And, she also didn’t want to appear jealous. She felt magnanimous. She could afford to. After all, she had just finished making love to Susan not more than an hour ago.

  Steph simply said, “We’re ready to order. Please see to it that we get another waitress.”

  “Of course,” Carrie said with a small nod. She walked away. There was silence at the table as each woman tried to think of what to say. Susan stared helplessly at her hands folded in her lap.

  Another waiter appeared. He looked directly at Tess and said, “What can I get you?”

  It was all Tess could do not to say, “A moving van for my girlfriend’s ex.”

  ***

  The car ride home was quiet. Tess silently watched from the passenger seat as the traffic lights reflected off the car windows. She powered down the window and let the sweet spring air wash over her. The dogwoods and redbuds that lined the streets smelled fresh and sweet. Tess always loved spring. The promise of new beginnings floated and fluttered along the warm breeze. She hoped this spring would merge into a summer of love and good times.

  She hated herself for worrying, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen estranged girlfriends get back together. Tess knew that part of Susan still loved Carrie. You couldn’t almost marry a person without having a deep connection. She also knew that, for as much as a person loved someone, they could hate them equally as much. Susan, it seemed, didn’t hate Carrie and that worried her. Until now, Tess had never loved anyone enough to want to make a life commitment. She had been waiting for her soul mate and she was sure Susan was that person. But was she Susan’s soul mate?

  “Sorry about that little scene at the restaurant,” Susan said, breaking the silence. “That was beyond awkward.”

  “Did you know she worked there?” Tess asked. She tried to sound neutral.

  “I didn’t. But I’m glad she saw us together. So she knows, so she can see how much I love you.” Susan reached over and took Tess’s hand. She squeezed. “Because I love you deeply.”

  Tess wanted to ask, “More than you did Carrie?” but she knew that was the kind of question that was unanswerable and she didn’t want to hear a platitude like “Of course, I do.” It’s like when someone asks if you liked their gift. You couldn’t say you didn’t. It would be rude.

  “I just feel bad for Steph. She’d been excited about dinner and Carrie cast a shadow over the whole evening,” Susan said.

  “It didn’t affect her appetite.”

  Susan chuckled. “No, it sure didn’t. It’s a pity we won’t be regulars, at least not while Carrie works there. I know it’s hard on Steph and Rosa too. They had to babysit me for a while and I know it hurt them to watch me suffer through it.”

  “And then there was the sock in the eye courtesy of Steph. We wouldn’t want a wrestling match in the middle of Fenton’s fanciest restaurant,” Tess said. Before she could stop herself, she asked the question that had been plaguing her mind, “Do you still get coffee at The Perk? I know that’s your favorite coffee spot.”

  Susan turned off Dorset and up Mill as they made their way toward home. “Yes, I still get coffee there. But I don’t do it to befriend Carrie or to rekindle anything.”

  As they turned the corner onto their street, Tess saw her neighbor’s giant tabby sitting in the front window. His tail was whipping at the curtain making it look like gusts of wind were rushing through; he had the intent to murder whatever lurked in the dark beneath the window. Tess thought if she had a tail right now it would be flicking side to side in irritation. Tess knew how the cat felt—wanting to do something, but not being able to.

  Susan pulled up in the driveway and turned off the car. She turned to look Tess. “Are we okay?” she asked softly.

  “Why do you go there then?” Tess asked. Her heart pounded, waiting for the answer she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “To train myself not to care. To make her just another person I know, not the woman who broke my heart. Hiding from her, avoiding the places where she is, gives her power over me. I have to scurry around, hiding, trying to avoid her. I have just as much right as she does to go anywhere I choose. I say good morning. I get my coffee. I see her as a barista and nothing more. She’ll eventually move on, she always does, and I’ll still have my favorite coffee spot. Does any of this make sense?”

  Tess didn’t really know how she felt about it—only glad that Susan hadn’t lied about going to The Perk. She felt more secure knowing that she could ask Susan about Carrie without seeming like the big, bad shrew.

  Susan waited for Tess to respond. When she didn’t, Susan asked, “Do you want me to stop going there?”

  “Yes and no,” Tess said. “You have a point. I get that part, but it makes me uncomfortable that you see her every day. I understand that confronting your demons lessens their hold on you. I think you should do what’s right for you. If exposing yourself to her is your way of banishing her from your heart, then I can work with that. Just don’t fall in love with her. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I won’t.” Susan lifted Tess’s chin and looked deeply into her eyes. “You are the love of my life.”

  Tess held Susan’s gaze. She wanted to believe her so badly. Was wanting to believe the same as believing? Only time would tell.

  ***

  Carrie sat on the bathroom floor in her new apartment. She hugged her knees to her chest. Tears streamed down her face. She rocked back and forth on the cold tile. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do it,” she muttered over and over. Seeing Susan briefly each morning was the highlight of her day. She would pretend that they had their old life again—like when Susan would come into Molly’s to get a coffee and a muffin. She had done it every morning before they were dating and every morning after they were a couple. It was the ritual that started their day.

  When they lived together, Carrie would get up earlier than Susan to go to work. She’d kiss Susan’s forehead, gazing down at her in wonder that this beautiful, smart woman loved her. She was nothing but a waitress in a café. How could this woman who had achieved everything in life possibly love her?

  If she had followed her goals instead of the drugs, she’d have felt closer to being Susan’s equal. Would Susan have looked at her differently then? Susan had suggested from time to time that Carrie take some college classes, better her prospects, maybe find a passion that would work into a career, asking her if she wanted to be a waitress her whole life. She had such big potential, Susan would say. Those were the words that eroded Carrie’s self-confidence.

  Carrie looked over at the bathtub where seven oxycodone pills sat lined up on the edge. She wasn’t sure why she had kept them. Maybe it was a test. A test to see if she had enough willpower to resist their temptation. She played with the pills, matching them one by one down the ledge, grouping them together, and finally, scooping them into her hand.

  Once, she had lived for these jewels. She had spent every dime, using her unsavory contacts to get them for her after the doctors no longer would. Finally, she’d come clean, gone to rehab, went to meetings, and t
ried to make something of herself—even if it was only a waitress at Molly’s. At least she was dry and sober.

  She stared down at the pills in her palm. It would be so easy to swallow one and let the drug smooth over the rough edges. Wrap her up in a happy blanket where nothing hurt. A place where the world felt manageable, where everything seemed fine. Happiness was just one pill away.

  She ran her finger through the pills. She picked one up, running its smooth surface between her fingers. She could take one or she could take all seven. She could get a bottle of wine from the big house, a good bottle of wine, a fancy one like Susan and Tess and her old friends Steph and Rosa drank tonight at The Branch.

  Her cell phone rang, shattering her thoughts. She startled and the pills fell from her hand, scattering across the floor.

  She pulled the phone from her pocket. It was Parker.

  “Hey, Parks, whassup?” Carrie answered. She tried to sound normal.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Fine, I’m fine,” Carrie said too quickly.

  “You in the bathroom?”

  She was at once paranoid. Did the carriage house have a nanny cam? Did Parker know that she was huddled on the floor with a handful of oxycodone, contemplating her next move?

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “The echo.”

  “I’m just getting ready for bed.”

  “I heard you ran into Susan and the girls at The Branch.”

  Carrie leaned her head back against the wall. “More than ran into. I was their server. Talk about hostile. I don’t know who hates me more, Susan or Steph and Rosa. I think I just make Tess nervous. She hasn’t gotten around to hating me yet, but I’m sure she will.”

  “Fenton’s a small town. We all run into people we’d rather not.”

  “I shouldn’t have come back,” Carrie said. She tucked her phone in the crook of her neck and swept up the scattered pills with her hands.

  “You had to. Part of getting well again is making amends with the people you hurt. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, but those people have to let you and so far that’s not happening. It’s not like people I hurt have welcomed me with open arms. Except you. Do you forgive me?”

  “Actually, I do. I think you’ve done well putting yourself back together. To me, that’s a big part of making amends.”

  “At least I have you,” Carrie said.

  “Do me a favor?”

  “What?”

  “Flush the pills down the toilet,” Parker said.

  “What?” Carrie asked. Her fist reflexively closed over the pills. “What pills?” She didn’t bother to ask how Parker knew. They had known each other too long for that. There had been times when Parker knew what she was going to do before she had even known it herself.

  “Carrie…” Parker said. “I’m your friend. Those pills aren’t.”

  Carrie sighed deeply. “I know. You’re right.” She stood. She flushed the toilet.

  “That’s better,” Parker said. “You want me to stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep?”

  “Please?”

  Carrie walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She opened the nightstand drawer and tucked the seven little pills inside a tissue. She wasn’t going to take the pills. Not tonight anyway.

  Chapter Nine

  Amy sat in a booth across from Millie and Bernie at Molly’s Café. They were sipping vanilla lattes. Molly had broken down and purchased an espresso machine to stay with current coffee trends and recoup customers that she had lost to The Perk.

  Molly’s regulars—mostly the good old boys from around town—had taken to the espresso machine with gusto after getting past the newfangled kind of coffee and muttering things like “damn liberals are taking over the town with their fancy ideas and now they’d gotten hold of the coffee.” Several ranchers had expressed confusion about the cappuccino’s milky foam. They had called it “calf slobbers” and refused to drink it until Molly scraped it off.

  Molly, a wise businesswoman, gave out free cappuccino and lattes the first week that the fancy machine had arrived. It didn’t take long for the old farts to get addicted to the better-tasting coffee.

  “I like this new addition to Molly’s menu,” Bernie said, raising her latte in the air. “And the little milk heart that goes on top is a sweet touch.”

  “Why didn’t you all ever go to The Perk?” Amy asked.

  Millie said, “Solidarity.”

  At the same time, Bernie said, “Performance anxiety.”

  “Huh?” Amy asked. She looked up from the menu. She had been thinking she should try a different breakfast. Maybe the eggs Benedict sans the hollandaise sauce—a heart attack in the making—would be a nice change.

  Millie explained further, “Solidarity to Molly. I felt bad that The Perk was stealing some of her business.”

  Bernie shrugged. “Performance anxiety because I get confused with the options over there. Grande this. Double-shot that. Add some hazelnut juice. It’s all too fancy for me. Makes me feel like an ol’ codger. Molly has kept it simple.”

  “And we wanted to back up Susan and Tess. I remember how devastated Susan was after the non-wedding,” Millie said. “It seems traitorous having Carrie take our coffee orders. It’s bad juju.”

  Molly appeared at their table. She wasn’t carrying a waitress pad. She didn’t need one. “How you all liking the fancy coffee?” she asked.

  “Love it,” Bernie said. “It’s got a good kick to it. Has business picked up?”

  “Yes, we’re doing some take-out coffee with the baked goods. I don’t want to hurt The Perk’s business, but they seem to keep the college crowd so we’re spreading the money around. Besides they’ve got a more or less absentee owner. The Perk seems more like a tax write-off than a real business,” Molly said. “You know what you all want?”

  “Two healthy, light breakfasts for us,” Millie said.

  Bernie shook her head sadly. “What I wouldn’t give for a piece of bacon.”

  “And you’ll be having yogurt with granola,” Millie said like she was talking to a petulant child.

  “I know, I know,” Bernie said. She looked at Molly and said, “Did I tell you I start yoga classes today?”

  Molly and Amy barely suppressed their laughter. “Did you get yourself some of those clingy yoga pants?” Molly asked.

  “I’m not talking,” Bernie said.

  “Okay, well, don’t hurt yourself,” Molly said. She looked over at Amy. “Are you having normal food?”

  Amy nixed the eggs Benedict. She’d feel too guilty eating something that yummy in front of Bernie. “I’ll have the whole wheat pancakes.” She paused, then added, “No butter.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “At this rate, I’ll be going out of business.”

  Susan suddenly sat down at their table. She was holding a large latte. “Hi, Molly.”

  “Hey, honey. Can I get you something to eat?”

  “No. This latte will do me, thanks.”

  “Okay, be right back with your orders.” Molly hurried off to place their order.

  Susan said, “I hope you don’t mind my joining you for a minute. I saw you sitting here and thought I’d say hello.”

  After they all exchanged pleasantries, Amy asked nonchalantly, “Taking a break from The Perk?”

  “Yes. I think it’s for the best what with Carrie working there. Tess is a little uncomfortable with it. So I’ll come here instead. It’s better all around.”

  “Good decision,” Bernie said. “Hanging out with ex-girlfriends is not a good idea. Take it from an old dyke. Connie would’ve hung me if I ever even considered it. She always said water under the bridge needs to stay under the bridge, not get siphoned off into a pond of old memories.”

  Millie patted Bernie’s hand. “Connie was a wise woman.”

  “That she was,” Bernie said softly.

  Amy wondered if Millie ever felt like she was competing with a
ghost. Millie and Bernie had both experienced so much life before they got together—so many memories that were not of each other, but of a wife and a husband. “Do you all ever think…” Amy stopped herself.

  “You mean do we think of our respective significant others that came before us? Of course we do,” Millie said.

  “Do you ever get jealous?”

  “Oh no. I love hearing Connie stories,” Millie said.

  “And Millie’s stories about living with her man are damn funny,” Bernie said. “But, I admit, it would be kind of awful to run into them around town and…” she stopped. She looked at Susan. “Sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean nothing by that. I wasn’t passing judgment.”

  Susan didn’t respond. For a moment, Amy wondered if Susan would get up and leave without another word. Amy knew one thing: she was glad Parker had never mentioned ex-girlfriends. It was weird looking at another woman knowing that she’d slept with your girlfriend. Correction: soon-to-be-wife—if they ever got the wedding planned.

  Finally, Susan said, “You’re right, Bernie, and I know you’re right. I’m just trying to get a handle on it. I do not want to get back together with Carrie. I love Tess.”

  “That’s all you need to remember,” Millie said. Her well-lined face filled out with a warm smile.

  Susan got up. “Work calls. Have a good day.” She left them to enjoy their healthy breakfasts.

  ***

  “Susan seems cured of her daily Perk fix.” Millie spooned a bite of low-fat strawberry banana yogurt into her mouth.

  “Let’s hope so,” Amy said, cutting into her whole wheat pancakes and taking a bite. She wished now she’d ordered the eggs Benedict.

  “How is Rosa? I haven’t seen her since we were almost arrested,” Millie said.

  “You almost sound like you wanted to be arrested,” Amy replied.

  Millie shrugged. “I did in a way. Bernie has her stories. You have yours. There’s a part of me that wants to be a part of history, no matter how small.”