Jennifer Snow – The Trouble with Mistletoe (страница 8)

Luke released a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“So, I noticed a green Infiniti rental with a familiar blonde at the wheel drive by this afternoon.” Mike leaned against the counter. “Anyone we know?”

“Yeah, the town troublemaker,” Luke confirmed with a wry grin.

“Aka Victoria Mason?”

“The one and only.”

“She’s here to buy out Legend’s Sporting Goods, right?” Mike asked as the phone behind him rang.

“If I let her, yes.” Once again he prayed he was up to the challenge of going head to head with her. The girl he remembered was persuasive and determined. He suspected she’d stop at nothing to acquire the store. She’d said as much, and that worried him.

“So what you’re saying is, the store is hers.” Mike grinned and answered the phone.

Rachel yawned as she stirred the ice in her virgin cosmopolitan.

Victoria glanced up from her laptop. “Are you sure you’re okay?” So far she’d sorted out many of the issues in her in-box, and she pushed aside her guilt for only half listening to her friends reminisce about the old days.

“Yeah.” Rachel nodded, despite her tell-tale droopy eyes. “I just haven’t been up this late in a while,” she said, struggling to hide another yawn behind her hand.

Victoria laughed, glancing at the time on her cell phone. A little past ten-thirty. In New York, she and Heather wouldn’t even have hit the clubs yet. Not that she would ever call the pool hall a club. Six pool tables were sandwiched in a dark corner near the bar and a tiny wooden dance floor, just big enough to hold a dozen people, provided the club portion of the hall. The bowling alley occupied the same building to the left and the movie theater was on the right. Not exactly a trendy hot spot. But somehow, it put her at ease, after the stress of the day.

“No… Kenny, listen to me… His rash cream is on the shelf next to the changing table.” Plugging one ear with her finger, Lisa yelled into her cell phone above the Christmas music blaring from the speakers.

Victoria picked up her phone, wondering how Lisa was getting cell service in here. Nothing. She shook the phone to no avail, and set it aside. Her provider was getting an earful when she could finally call them.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Yes, that’s right…just put a thick layer all over his butt… Yes, bye,” she said shutting her old flip phone and shaking her head. “Seriously, that man wouldn’t notice something unless it jumped off a shelf and strangled him.”

“Jeremy has a diaper rash?” Ava asked, sipping her white wine. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yes. Last week he had a stomach flu and his poop was runny, you know…that yellow color—mustard consistency.” She wrinkled her nose.

Ava nodded her understanding. “With that rancid smell… I know it well,” she said with a shudder.

Victoria stared at the two. She pushed away her plate of chicken wings. It was too late to be eating fried food anyway.

“The poop I can handle. It’s the vomit. That curdled-milk vomit,” Lisa added, sitting back in her chair.

Ava waved a hand and said, “I told Darren, I’d change dirty diapers all day long, but vomit was his department.”

Victoria stared at her laptop screen, trying to drown out the conversation around her. Poop and vomit. Were these the same girls who’d refused to pick up their own dogs’ crap when the town implemented that law?

“Girls, I think we are grossing Victoria out,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Sorry. That seems to be all us moms can talk about these days. We’re dying for a night out, but then we all miss our kids.”

“It’s no problem, really. Sorry, I’ve been attached to this computer for the last hour.” Victoria scanned the remaining unanswered emails. She sighed and closed the laptop. She deserved a break.

“So, how about you? Any plans for kids in your future?” Ava leaned forward and a lock of her red hair fell into her face. She pushed it back and secured it with a bobby pin.

Victoria gulped her drink and shook her head. At this stage of her life, children weren’t even a consideration, and the prospect of having a family someday grew smaller with each passing year. Wiping the condensation from the glass with a finger, she said, “Um…no. My position at Clarke and Johnson takes up so much of my time. I travel a lot and there’s hours of overtime almost every day.”

“But you have a boyfriend,” Lisa said. “I saw pictures of you with a guy on Facebook.”

Pictures of her with a guy? Oh, Rob. She shook her head. “He’s just a coworker I dated for a while.” She should update her Facebook profile more often and maybe remove some of her older photos, especially now that Rob was engaged to another colleague. “Nothing serious.”

“So, there’s no one special in your life?” Ava asked, toying with the stem of her wineglass.

“Um…” She debated telling them about Jordan—a guy she’d connected with through an online dating site in a moment of poor judgment, self-pity and too much wine, four months before. With her busy travel schedule and his long hours on Wall Street as a trader, so far they’d managed to make time for three quick lunch dates and countless late-night chat sessions over Skype whenever she was out of town.

She was disappointed that those calls wouldn’t be possible on this trip, with the dial-up access at the Brookhollow Inn. She’d emailed him explaining the situation, attaching an invite to her company’s Christmas party on December 20. It would be their first real date and a chance to introduce him to her friends and coworkers. She hesitated. Her Brookhollow friends wouldn’t understand why she’d had to turn to online dating when she lived in a big city, full of interesting, single people. Nor would they understand that work took priority over relationships. “Not really,” she said finally.

Ava and Lisa shared a look.

It took all of Victoria’s strength not to question the exchange. So, she wasn’t married yet. She didn’t have a house full of kids. Did that mean she was a failure? Her mother certainly thought so, but she’d expected her friends to be more open-minded. She’d chosen a different path and there was nothing wrong with that. Was there? The awkward silence spoke volumes. She couldn’t stand it. “I mean, there is one guy.”

The girls looked hopeful.

“Go on,” Lisa urged, moving her chair closer to the table.

“Tell us about him.” Ava nodded.

“Well, right now we’ve just been texting and video calling a lot…a few lunch dates…” Victoria blushed, praying the confession didn’t sound as lame as she thought it did.

Ava looked disappointed. “But you are going to go on a real date?”

That was the plan. She prayed he’d be available the night of her Christmas party. The thought of going alone again this year was too depressing to contemplate. “Yeah. We’re just so busy with work.”

“That’s good.” Rachel sat straighter, apparently forcing herself to look awake. “Whatever, don’t pay any attention to those two. With or without a serious boyfriend, I bet your life in New York is so exciting. Like an episode of Friends.”

Victoria smiled. “Sure, something like that.”

“I knew it,” Rachel said. “Ow…” She grimaced and gripped her side.

“Are you okay?” Victoria hoped her friend hadn’t chosen this moment to go into labor.

“It’s fine.” Rachel struggled to catch her breath. “Just a kick.”

Ava and Lisa exchanged knowing looks. “I miss that part,” Lisa said, her eyes filled with tears, and she laughed. “Look at me,” she said, wiping her eyes with a paper napkin.

“It really is the best feeling, having life growing inside you. Don’t worry.” Ava touched Victoria’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll experience it someday.”

Victoria’s cheeks flushed. “Um…excuse me for just a second.” She pushed her drink away and grabbed her cell phone. Sliding from the barstool she made her way to the bathroom. Inside, her phone beeped. Amazingly strong cell reception in the bathroom at the pool hall, of all places. Finding an empty stall, she closed the toilet seat and sat, dialing Heather’s cell number.

Her friend answered on the third ring. “Hello? Vic?”

“I’m going to kill you,” she hissed into the receiver.

“What? Why?”

“For telling my former friends to take me out on the town!” This night was turning

into an intervention. Somehow, Victoria suspected her mother had set the girls up to remind her of everything missing in her life. It was working.

The door to the washroom opened and she heard someone enter the stall next to her.

She lowered her voice. “Do you even know what a night on the town around here means?”

Heather laughed. “So, it’s not New York, it’s your hometown.”

“To say it’s not New York is the understatement of the year. I’m at the pool hall, which is also the bowling alley, and the movie theater. They have a disco-ball, dance floor and get this—arcade games. The place hasn’t changed at all since we came here in high school.” She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hand. The familiarity of the place and the memories here made her chest hurt.

Heather was still laughing on the other end, unable to speak.

“That’s not even the worst of it. I’m here with a pregnant woman, about to fall asleep at the table or give birth any minute—I don’t know—and two mommies who can’t talk about anything other than poop and vomit. And I can’t participate in the conversation because I don’t know anything about poop and vomit.”