Christy-Lynn tucked the freshly cropped strands behind her ears, suddenly self-conscious. It was like part of her was missing. “I didn’t. I was on my way to grab some lunch when I saw the salon and thought, Why not?”
“Well, I just love it. It’s fun and really sexy. Don’t you think, Dar? Oh, sorry, I almost forgot. This is Dar Setters. She runs the new age shop on Bond Street. Crystals, candles, that sort of thing. Hey, why don’t you eat with us? We just sat down.”
Christy-Lynn smiled awkwardly at the blonde seated across from Missy. “Thanks, but I don’t want to crash your dinner. I just put my name on the list.”
Dar smiled. She was pale and petite, almost ethereal, her head of silver-blonde hair framing her small face like a halo of moonlight. “Don’t be silly. Missy was just telling me about you. I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”
Christy-Lynn wasn’t sure she liked being the topic of conversation but forced a smile. “Thank you. It’s awfully nice of you to include me.”
“Don’t be silly,” Missy said, pulling out the chair next to her. “We’re not going to sit here and let you eat by yourself. You need to be with friends. Besides, it’s margarita night!” Missy’s gaze strayed briefly as a waiter in snug-fitting black slacks moved past with a tray balanced on one shoulder. “The scenery’s not bad either.”
Dar sighed and snapped her fingers. “Focus, Missy.”
Missy whipped her head around, feigning innocence. “What?”
“I thought you said you’d sworn off men.”
“There’s nothing wrong with looking, honey. Especially when looking’s all you’ve got time for. Not that anyone’s likely to look back. Guys aren’t lining up to date a woman with my particular combination of baggage, and certainly not one with Jamba Juice on her jeans. Speaking of which, where did Marco get to? It’s time for another margarita.”
Christy-Lynn stole a look at Missy. She was totally gorgeous, outgoing, and appeared to have herself together, a combination that made it hard to believe every man in Sweetwater wasn’t jumping through hoops to get her attention. But then, she knew better than most that the face a person chose to show the world wasn’t always the real one. Everyone had a story. Not everyone wanted to share.
Missy’s attention was still on Marco. She watched until he had disappeared through the swinging kitchen door, then turned to Christy-Lynn with a grin. “He’s fun to look at, but I’m pretty sure he’s spoken for. Janice over at Bristow’s said he was in the other day and bought a pair of ruby earrings, and she’s pretty sure they weren’t for his mother.”
“Poor Missy.” Dar sighed. “Foiled in love again.”
“Love?” Missy’s eyes went wide. “Good grief! Who said anything about love? Like I said, he’s nice to look at, but I’ve got two little boys at home, which is all the testosterone I need in my life at the moment.” She feigned a shudder as she turned to Christy-Lynn. “I bought the whole love and marriage T-shirt a few years back but wound up returning it for a full refund, if you know what I mean.”
“Defective merchandise?”
Missy wrinkled her nose. “Something like that.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m happy. Mostly. Even if it does feel like my hair’s on fire most of the time.”
It was the mostly that caught Christy-Lynn’s attention, but she thought it best not to ask. She’d be gone in a few days, and she had her own baggage to carry. “How old are your sons?”
“Six and eight. Nathan and Christian. Both monsters and both adorable.”
Divorced, a businesswoman, and a single mom. Christy-Lynn was impressed. “How do you do it? Run an inn and raise two little boys on your own?”
“Oh, I have help. My parents live close, and I have a great sitter. She’s with them now. I feel bad sometimes, leaving them after working all day, but sometimes it feels like all I do is take care of other people. If I didn’t get out once in a while, I seriously think I’d lose my mind. Oh, look, Marco’s back.” She grinned up at him, all but purring. “That for me, sugar?”
He set down Missy’s margarita and a fresh basket of chips, then took Christy-Lynn’s drink order, flashing an Antonio Banderas smile as he turned to leave.
“Good grief,” Dar huffed when Mario was safely out of earshot. “I thought you were going to start stuffing dollar bills down his pants.”
Missy’s mossy-green eyes gleamed mischievously. “Jealous?”
Dar shook her head slowly, like a teacher with an incorrigible student. “Not everyone’s looking for tall, dark, and handsome. Some of us are looking for substance, someone capable of holding a conversation or a settling down with a good book.”
“Ah, yes. Your soul mate.”
Dar picked up her wineglass, glaring petulantly as she sipped. “Go ahead. Make fun. But I’m not the one who married a guy right out of school because I liked the way his jeans fit.”
Missy picked up her margarita, chasing her lime wedge around with her straw. “You’ve got me there. That’s what I did, all right. And all I’ve got to show for it are two beautiful boys I wouldn’t trade for the world.” She glanced at Christy-Lynn then, smiling one of her brilliant smiles. “Oh, honey, don’t worry about us. We’re not fighting. This is how we show our love for each other. We’re different as night and day, but she knows I’ll always have her back, and I know she’ll always have mine. You know how it is with girlfriends.”
Christy-Lynn nodded, but the truth was she didn’t know. She’d heard about the bonds of female friendship but assumed it to be the stuff of movies and cable TV, imagining it involved lots of chardonnay and shoe shopping. But now, as she observed the connection between Dar and Missy, she saw that real female friendship bore little resemblance to such trite stereotypes. It was deeper and messier and quite beautiful in its own way. And suddenly—perhaps for the first time—she felt its absence keenly.
But there were reasons for that.
EIGHT
Monck’s Corner, South Carolina
August 9, 1994
Christy-Lynn’s gaze slides to the girl walking beside her—the new girl. She has a terrible overbite and a head full of wiry red hair. She’s also covered with freckles. None of these things are her fault, of course, but that hasn’t stopped the kids at Berkeley High from slapping a bull’s-eye on her back and labeling her a freak. It isn’t fair. You can’t help who your parents are—or the genes they saddle you with.
She jerks her eyes away as the girl turns to look at her. She’s used to being invisible, to simply not being seen, so it’s a little weird that Linda Neely has suddenly wandered into her usually empty orbit.
It had taken some time for Linda to finally speak, almost two weeks, but eventually, after days of hovering in the lunchroom and in study hall, she had startled Christy-Lynn by blurting out her story. Her family had moved from Norfolk because her father had been transferred to Trident, in North Charleston. She didn’t have any friends, and she was having trouble in most of her classes, especially English. Her father was threatening to send her back to private school—the kind run by nuns—if she didn’t get her grades up by her next report card.