CHAPTER 2. MORE THAN FRIENDS
The scent of food greeted me as I entered the house. Mom was home early, as promised, with takeout. Cooking wasn’t her thing.
“I’m home,” I called out, closing the door behind me and dropping my gym bag by the stairs. “Mom?”
“Be down in a sec.”
I went to the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge. As I guzzled it, I glanced out the window at my neighbor’s house, my humiliation returning. I had to go over and thank him for fixing the mailbox. My pulse leaped at the thought, and my mouth went dry.
Think about Eirik… Think about Eirik…
I yanked the cord and closed the slats, then sneaked a cookie from the cookie jar. Chocolate chip, yummy. My favorite.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mom said as she entered the kitchen.
I shoved the rest of the cookie in my mouth, turned, and almost choked. Her colorful, flowing skirt, gauzy duster, and matching headscarf were way over the top. Mom was a throwback to Woodstock. She had a flamboyant Boho-chic style, which matched her bubbly personality. But at times, I wished she’d dress like regular mothers. You know, wear jeans or normal pants and tops.
Unlike my boring hazel eyes and dark-brown hair, Mom’s green eyes and pitch black hair gave her an exotic appearance. She was also tall with a perfect figure for someone who didn’t work out. Me? How should I put it? My ass had a mind of its own, and my chest quit on me years ago.
“I’m sorry you had car troubles, sweetie.” She kissed my temple and enveloped me in perfume and other scents that defied description but I’d always associated with her. She leaned back and wrinkled her nose. “Eek, your hair reeks of chlorine.”
“I didn’t have time to wash it. You know, I had to take the car in,” I reminded her.
“You drove it after I told you not to?”
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I had to go and the leak was slow. Really.” I braced myself for a lecture.
She shook her head and cupped my face. “Why do you have such little regard for your life, sweetheart? Do you know what could have happened? I’d hate to lose you in a senseless accident, Raine.”
Like Dad. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t think. I drove slowly. I was even late because of it.”
She sighed and stroked my hair. “What did the shop say?”
“They fixed the leak. Did you see the e-mail about Ultimate Frisbee from Coach Fletcher?”
She frowned. “No. When did he send it?”
I sighed. Mom rarely used her computer. In fact, I’d reached the conclusion that she hated technology. She did inventory for the Mirage by hand and had piles of thick ledgers gathering dust in the den. “I don’t know, but it’s tomorrow afternoon at four.”
“Do we need to take something? Drinks? Dessert?”
Smiling, I shook my head. “It’s Ultimate Frisbee, Mom, not team dinner. How was the store?”
“Other than the broken mirror, business as usual. Go shower. I’ll keep the food warm.” She stepped back, reached down, and lifted a large paper bag from her hand-made crocheted bag. “Sweet and sour chicken, your favorite, and beef and broccoli for me.” She dug inside a bag and pulled out an egg roll, which she dangled teasingly.
I snatched it and munched on it as I headed upstairs to my bedroom. After showering, I changed into sweatpants and a shirt and headed downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, I noticed Mom in front of the mirror in the living room. She was muttering to herself while studying her reflection.
“I can’t do it without Tristan. Our daughter needs both of us.” She swiped at the wetness on her cheeks. She’d never cried since Dad’s plane crashed.
“Mom?”
“Ah, there you are,” she said without looking at me. She moved away from the mirror and hurried toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
I frowned, hustling after her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I wish your father would hurry up and come home.”
My throat closed. “Have you heard something?”
“No, sweetie, but three months is too long for him to be missing.”
Even though he was listed as a missing person and his case was still open, he could have been at the bottom of the ocean for all we knew. I hated to be negative, but every time I visited the website the airline had created for victims of the flight and found nothing new, my confidence dipped. I didn’t know where Mom got her optimism.
She removed the boxes from the microwave and poured herself a glass of wine, which she immediately sipped. “So, what do you want for your seventeenth birthday, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know. The usual.” I liked my birthday celebrations low key. I hung out with Eirik and Cora, watched my favorite TV series, and pigged out on pizza and cake. “What is it you and Dad wanted to tell me when I turned seventeen? You made it seem like it was important.”
“Oh, honey.” A haunted look entered her eyes. As though she didn’t want me to see her expression, she put down her wine and unwrapped the chopsticks. “We’ll explain after your dad comes home.”
“Why not now?”
She smiled, reached out, and gripped my chin. “Always impatient. You get that from me. Your father is the patient one.” She let go of my chin, picked up her drink, and sipped. “The story can wait. You’re only seventeen anyway.” She cocked her head, green eyes sparkling. “Let’s do something fun together for your birthday, just the two of us.”
What did my age have to do with anything? I forced myself to focus on her last statement. “Like what?”
“Mani-pedis. I can call Caridee.”
Caridee Jenkins was Mom’s manicurist. I never liked people touching my feet, but maybe this once. “Okay. When?”
“Let’s see. I have to work tomorrow, and you have the Frisbee thing in the afternoon. Do you have plans for the evening?”
“I was planning on hanging out with Eirik and Cora.”
Mom laughed as though to say, what else is new? “Let’s have her come over on Sunday afternoon. We could get facials, too.”
“Can a facial remove freckles?”
Mom’s back stiffened, and her eyes narrowed. Uh-oh, I knew that look. It meant a lecture was coming. I braced myself.
“Lorraine Sarah Cooper, you should be ashamed of yourself. Don’t ever do anything to get rid of your freckles.” She touched my nose. “They are beautiful, like a sprinkle of gold dust.”
I rolled my eyes. She was so biased. My skin would be perfect without them.
When we finished eating, Mom yawned and eyed her bulky bag. As usual, I knew she couldn’t wait to disappear upstairs to take a long bath and relax. She worked hard and deserved it. “Go on upstairs, Mom. I’ll lock up.”
“You sure?”
“I have this covered.”
“You do, don’t you?” She kissed my forehead and picked up her bag and wine glass. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Night, Mom.”
Left alone, I checked my phone one last time. Eirik still hadn’t returned my calls or answered my text messages. His silence had pushed me past worry to ticked-off. I sent him one last text, then wiped down the counter and left the house for my neighbor’s.
My heart picked up tempo with each step. What if he hadn’t fixed the mailbox? I’d look like an idiot thanking him for something he hadn’t done. Lights were on downstairs and upstairs, but as I got closer, rock music reached me from the other side of the house.
I followed the sounds to the garage, where Blue Eyes sat on a wooden box and tinkered with a greasy thingamajigger that looked like something one pulled out of a robot. I couldn’t tell where the music came from, but I recognized the classic rock tune. Not bad.
He didn’t glance up or move, yet the music stopped. Magic? No, I shouldn’t even think like that. It was illogical. Magic didn’t exist.
“I thought we agreed to stay away from each other, Freckles.”
I’m not letting him get to me. Not this time. “I plan to, but you fixed the Pet
ersons’ mailbox, so I’m here to thank you.”
“Courteous? You? What happened to the snarky girl I met earlier? Raine with an E?” He looked up, a wicked smile curling his lips. “I liked her.”
I ignored the dig. “How did you do it?”
He wiped his greasy hands on a cloth. “Magic.”
“Don’t start. Magic is not real.”
“Says who?”
“Me. Science. Logic.”
“Okay, Freckles. We’ll play this your way. We’ll say I was inspired, and there’re no heights a man can’t reach when...” he got up, leaned closer, and whispered, “inspired.”
I stepped back. He was overwhelming up close. Vibrant. “Uh, well, I just wanted to say thanks and see how much I owe you for replacing it.”
He pulled a folded manila envelope from the back of his pants and offered it to me. It was the envelope I’d used for the Petersons’ mail, but the letter I’d taped on it was missing.
“Where’s my letter?”
“Check inside. It was a very sweet and sincere apology.”