Four Friends
Authors: Robyn Carr
From #1
New York Times
bestselling author Robyn Carr comes the story of four friends determined to find their stride. Ultimately, they’ll discover what it means to be a wife, mother, lover, friend…and most important: your true self.
Gerri can’t decide what’s more devastating: learning her rock-solid marriage has big cracks, or the anger she feels as she tries to repair them. Always the anchor for friends and her three angst-ridden teenagers, it’s time to look carefully at herself. The journey is more than revealing—it’s transforming.
Andy doesn’t have a great track record with men, and she’s come to believe that a lasting love is out of reach. When she finds herself attracted to her down-to-earth contractor—a man without any of the qualities that usually appeal to her—she questions everything she thought she wanted in life.
Sonja’s lifelong pursuit of balance is shattered when her husband declares he’s through with her New Age nonsense and walks out. There’s no herbal tonic or cleansing ritual that can restore her serenity—or her sanity.
Miraculously, it’s BJ, the reserved newcomer to Mill Valley, who steps into their circle and changes everything. The woman with dark secrets opens up to her neighbors, and together they get each other back on track, stronger as individuals and unfaltering as friends.
Praise for #1
New York Times
and #1
USA TODAY
bestselling author
ROBYN CARR
“A touch of danger and suspense make the latest in Carr’s Thunder Point series a powerful read.”
—RT Book Reviews
on
The Hero
“With her trademark mixture of humor, realistic conflict, and razor-sharp insights, Carr brings Thunder Point to vivid life.”
—Library Journal
on
The Newcomer
“No one can do small-town life like Carr.”
—RT Book Reviews
on
The Wanderer
“A delightfully funny novel.”
—Midwest Book Reviews
on
The Wedding Party
“Well-rounded characters, a plot rich in emotion and humor and one sweet romance make this a great read.”
—RT Book Reviews
on
A Summer in Sonoma
“An intensely satisfying read. By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional, it won’t soon be forgotten.”
—RT Book Reviews
on
Paradise Valley
“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”
—Library Journal
on the Virgin River series
Also available from Robyn Carr
and Harlequin MIRA
Novels
A SUMMER IN SONOMA
NEVER TOO LATE
RUNAWAY MISTRESS
BLUE SKIES
THE WEDDING PARTY
THE HOUSE ON OLIVE STREET
The Thunder Point Series
THE CHANCE
THE HERO
THE NEWCOMER
THE WANDERER
The Virgin River Series
MY KIND OF CHRISTMAS
SUNRISE POINT
REDWOOD BEND
HIDDEN SUMMIT
BRING ME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
HARVEST MOON
WILD MAN CREEK
PROMISE CANYON
MOONLIGHT ROAD
ANGEL’S PEAK
FORBIDDEN FALLS
PARADISE VALLEY
TEMPTATION RIDGE
SECOND CHANCE PASS
A VIRGIN RIVER CHRISTMAS
WHISPERING ROCK
SHELTER MOUNTAIN
VIRGIN RIVER
The Grace Valley Series
DEEP IN THE VALLEY
JUST OVER THE MOUNTAIN
DOWN BY THE RIVER
Look for the next book in Robyn Carr’s
Thunder Point
series
THE PROMISE
available soon from Harlequin MIRA
ROBYN
CARR
Four Friends
To Dianne Moggy, my dear friend, who always believed in me.
Contents
Reader’s Guide for Four Friends
one
GERRI GILBERT ANSWERED the door in gray sweats with a tear in the knee, hem on one leg falling down and a gray T-shirt under her black hoodie. Her short, dark brown hair was spiking every which way from bed head. She held a cup of coffee in her hand; her eyes were slits and there was a snarl on her face. “You’re five minutes early. Again. We’ve been over this. Can you please not be early? I value every minute in the morning.”
Sonja Johanson put a finger to her lips, shushing Gerri. The sun was barely over the rooftops and she didn’t want to wake the house. Sonja wore her salmon sweats, white T-shirt and salmon hoodie, her silky, shoulder-length mahogany hair pulled back in a neat clip.
She backed away from the door and pointed down the street. Gerri stepped outside for a better view. A big pile of clothing, books and what appeared to be miscellaneous junk was on the Jamisons’ lawn. Right at that moment their friend Andy appeared in the doorway of her house and with an angry cry hurled the tower to a desktop computer atop the pile.
Andy disappeared into the house and Bryce Jamison backed out of the door wearing business attire that was not fresh, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his collar open, his tie hanging out of his pants pocket and he sported an even worse case of bed head than Gerri. He held a packed duffel bag. “You’re fucking
crazy,
you know that?” he yelled into the house. He turned and stomped past the pile toward his car in the driveway.
“And you’re fucking
through
here!” Andy screamed out the open door. Then she slammed it.
“I think Andy might be coming to the end of her rope,” Sonja said gravely.
Gerri’s response was a short burst of laughter. “Ya think?” she asked.
“Should we do something?” Sonja asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Gerri said, pulling her front door closed. She put her coffee cup on the brick planter that bordered dead flowers and bent to stretch. “It’s for them to work out. Or finish off.”
“Should we ask her if she’s walking?”
“She’s not walking today,” Gerri said. “Let’s get this over with.” Gerri started off down the street at a brisk pace.
Just steps behind her Sonja asked, “What do we say?”
“Say nothing. Do nothing.”
“But...”
Gerri looked over her shoulder. “Nothing,” she repeated.
Sonja came up beside her. “We should see if she’s all right.”
“We should give her time to finish throwing things, if that’s what she’s doing. I’ll check in with her before I leave for work.”
Sonja tsked. “I tried to talk to her about the relationship quadrant of her house—it’s all torn up and the feng shui is a disaster. She’s all out of balance. Now look.”
Gerri stopped in her tracks. She looked at Sonja. “That’s exactly why you’d better stay away from there today. You know how she feels about all your woo-woo stuff. If you pull any of your feng shui, chakra or karma bullshit today, you’re going to end up on top of that pile.”
“But something could have been done about that!”
“For God’s sake,” Gerri said impatiently, walking again. “It was destiny.”
Ahead of them, about half a block away, a small, lean woman came out of her house, also wearing sweats. She stopped to stretch on her front walk. She was still stretching as they passed and Gerri called, “Morning, BJ.” But Sonja added, “Wanna walk with us today, BJ?”
“Thanks, but I need the run,” she answered, waving them off.
When they had cleared the house Sonja said, “She’s making an awful lot of bad karma, the way she acts.”
“She wants to run,” Gerri said. “Quit asking her. I’d run if my knees wouldn’t collapse.”
“But it’s unfriendly,” Sonja said.
“Some women don’t want girlfriends,” Gerri pointed out. “I think she’s been clear, and not unfriendly. Just private.”
“Don’t you think that’s pretty suspicious?”
“No, I think it’s private. Are you going to talk the whole time? Because if you are, I might risk permanent paralysis and just run with BJ.”
“Little grouchy this morning? I bet you had liquor instead of chamomile before bed last night.”
“Shut up, Sonja,” Gerri said.
The 6:00 a.m. power walking had been going on for almost two years; Sonja had initiated it. She was the health guru, the motivator, often the pain in Gerri’s butt. It was Sonja’s profession. She was a feng shui consultant and home organizer who did personal color charts and something she referred to as life reading, which was like a mini study of your past, present and goals with the objective of total balance and personal success. Additionally she was a vegetarian, novice herbalist, part-time yoga and meditation instructor and impossible perfectionist. Gerri had an entire shelf dedicated to books given to her by Sonja on everything from studying your body’s pH to gliding through menopause on herbs—books stubbornly left unread.
Gerri and Andy had been neighbors and good friends for fifteen years, since before Andy threw out her first husband. They were both now in their late forties while Sonja had just scored the big four-oh. When Sonja arrived in the neighborhood a few years ago, Gerri and Andy welcomed her and immediately grew bored with her naturalist and metaphysical leanings. However—and it was a big however—when someone was sick or hurt or in trouble, it was always Sonja who came forth with anything from a massage to a casserole to transportation to, well, whatever was needed. When Gerri had been brought to her knees by a killer hemorrhoidectomy Sonja was there, drawing the sitz bath, making broth, administering pain meds and, of course, she was armed with the perfect, natural, gentle laxative. Gerri had learned you just don’t give the right laxative enough credit until you find yourself in that position.
Still, she could be tiresome as hell.
After three miles in just under forty-five minutes, Gerri sweating like a boxer and Sonja glistening attractively, they separated. Gerri entered her house noisily. “Everyone up?” she yelled into the house as she wandered into the kitchen.
Phil was sitting at the table with coffee, newspaper strewn around and his laptop open, going through email and checking the news. “They’re up,” he said. “More or less.”
The Gilbert kids were thirteen, sixteen and nineteen. Boy, girl, boy. “You’re supposed to make sure they’re up, Phil.”
“I did,” he said without looking up. “I do every morning.”
She trudged up the stairs and started throwing open doors. “Get up! Don’t make me late!” Then she backtracked to her shower and wondered why the hell Phil couldn’t accomplish one simple task—get the kids out of bed while she was out walking. Despite the fact she was planning to go in late today, it annoyed her. But lately everything annoyed her because she was doing the menopause drill and she was often testy.
