How (Not) to Fall in Love (5 page)

Chapter Seven

September 27

S
unlight woke me earlier than I wanted, especially for a Saturday. I’d begged for blackout window shades so I could sleep in, but Mom always refused since they wouldn’t match the pastel and lace that covered every inch of my bedroom. Sometimes I felt like I lived inside a wedding cake.

I wanted to wallow in the few blissful seconds between asleep and awake, where I could pretend Dad wasn’t a late-night TV joke, and Mom wasn’t keeping the liquor store in business, but I couldn’t. At least it was the weekend. I squeezed my eyes shut, picturing Chloe prepping the CNN report for my locker, maniacally waving her glue gun like a weapon.

Downstairs, Mom was already dressed and drinking coffee.

“Big day in the real estate world?” I asked, surprised to see her awake.

She shook her head. “You and I are going to the cabin for the weekend. I don’t want to be here if the paparazzi come back.” She took a sip from her mug. “After everything that’s happened, you and I could use a break.”

I usually whined about going to the mountains, but right now running away sounded good. When I was younger I’d loved our cabin trips, because I got uninterrupted time with my dad, who ignored the phone and focused on Mom and me the whole time. But the past couple of years, whenever we were up there all I could think of was the fun I was missing in town, like shopping with Sal and stalking Ryan.

“Come on, Toblerone.” I raced upstairs to throw clothes and a couple of historical romance novels into my Hilfiger duffel. Toby licked my hand and whimpered. He knew my packed bag meant fun for him and he was eager to go.

Mom was already in the Volvo with the engine running when Toby and I ran downstairs.

“Change of plans,”
I texted Sal as we drove, since she’d wanted to get together today.
“Headed to mtns for wknd.”

Her reply flew back.
“R U OK?”

Okay? My world was tilting on its axis and there was nothing to grab onto. I was flying into space, with no one to catch me.

I was most definitely not okay.

I
snuck glances at Mom and her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as we drove west on the highway, listening to a local band we agreed on. Toby let out an occasional bark when we passed other cars with dogs hanging out the window.

Sal texted me so many times that I resorted to turning off my phone. I kept hoping Mom’s cell would blast out Frank Sinatra singing about being the king of the hill, Dad’s signature ring tone, but her phone never rang.

W
e spent our weekend quietly: reading, hiking, and sneaking glances at our cells about every five minutes. I think we both thought Dad would call us. He had to know his absence had blown up in the media. On Monday, Mom called Woodbridge to excuse my absence, extending our escape from reality by an extra day.

On our last night, we ate dinner on the cabin deck in the glow of candles, wrapped in fleece jackets. Toby snored at our feet as we shared a frozen pizza that tasted like paste. I missed Mom’s cooking.

“Darcy, we’re going to make it through this. I promise you. I don’t know how yet. But we’ll survive.”

“Please don’t tell me we will Tri!Umphant!ly survive.”

Mom sipped her wine. “A lot of people use your dad’s philosophy to survive horrible situations and to turn their lives around.”

I looked at my dirty Uggs. I really didn’t want a lecture on the genius of “Thoughtful! Responsible! Initiative!

“But,” Mom continued, “it’s not the only way.”

She had my attention.

“Before I met your dad my life was simple. I taught kindergarten and lived in a small apartment with my best friend from college.” Mom smiled at the memory. Her eyes stared off toward the hillside, a looming, dark shadow under a sea of winking stars.

“We lived on ramen noodles and the leftovers my friend brought home every night from her waitress job.” Mom poured herself another glass of wine as I watched her warily.

“Who was your friend? Do I know her?”

Mom paused. “No. She was still in my life when you were very young, but then she moved to Tucson and we lost contact.”

“You should see if she’s on Facebook.” I grabbed another slice of pizza. I was going to gain ten pounds through this ordeal at the rate I was eating. Stress = ravenous.

Mom shook her head. “You know I don’t do Facebook.”

“Yeah,” I said around a mouthful of pepperoni. I was glad about that. I spent most of my screen time on Tumblr and Instagram, but the thought of friending my mom freaked me out. I followed my dad’s Facebook fan page, but we definitely weren’t FB friends.

“Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I was able to earn a salary, to take care of myself.” She held my gaze. “I can do it again. I can help take care of us.” She took another sip of wine. “But I’m sure Dad will be home soon and get back to work at Harvest.”

“If you have to work, why don’t you teach again?” I reached for another slice of pizza. Maybe this one would taste better. Toby looked up at me and whined. I snuck him a piece of pepperoni, which he inhaled without chewing.

Mom shook her head. “I don’t think I have the energy. Plus, I’d have to go back to school to renew my teaching license. I think real estate is the best choice.” Mom sat up a little straighter and raised her chin, almost daring me to disagree.

The thought of Mom working for Chloe’s mom killed me, but she’d already made up her mind. Maybe it would work out.

Mom’s eyes brightened. “Darcy, I can do this. And you can help.” I almost choked on my pizza crust, but she continued without noticing. “You’re so good on the internet and with your digital camera. You can help me take photos of the houses for online marketing.”

I stared at my mom. It was bad enough she was doing this real estate thing, but dragging me with her? No way.

“I don’t think so. I don’t know anything about real estate and—”

“You don’t need to. You just take pictures of houses and put them on a website. It’s probably just like what you do with all those online sites, right? We can start with the cabin.” She stared down at her hands. “We might need to put it on the market soon. That’s what J.J. recommends.”

“Sell the cabin?” My stomach clenched. The cabin was Dad’s favorite place in the world. We couldn’t sell it.

Mom nodded, her eyes welling with tears.

I reached down to pet Toby. I’d give anything to trade places with him, to spend my time chasing squirrels and rabbits while the humans dealt with all this drama, which was getting worse by the minute.

I frowned. “Is this whole mess J.J.’s fault? Did he screw up somehow?”

She stared into her wine glass. “I don’t know.”

My heart pounded. “So what he said about Harvest going broke? It’s really true?”

Mom’s face sagged. “Oh honey, you have no idea how much I wish it wasn’t. But I’m afraid it is.” She poured herself more wine. “After meeting with the board, it sounds pretty bad.” She forced a wobbly smile. “At least your tuition is paid through the year, so you don’t have to leave your friends at Woodbridge.”

Right. Friends like Chloe.

“What are we going to do?” I didn’t recognize my own voice.

Mom swirled the wine in her glass, not meeting my gaze. “Right now, we just have to put one foot in front of the other.”

I glared at her. “You sound like Tri Ty.”

Her smile was wistful. “It’s good advice, no matter who it’s from.” She shivered, rubbing her jacket sleeves. “Anyway. Dad’s old truck is here. You could drive it back to town tomorrow. It’s not fancy but at least it runs.”

I thought of Charlie being car-free. I’d been so set on getting back my Audi, but now that felt selfish.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think I remember how to drive that beast.” Dad had shown me how to work the gearshift when I’d first learned to drive. “Because you never know,” he’d said. “Life doesn’t always have an automatic transmission.” I smiled wistfully at the memory, at how my dad could turn anything into a “Tri Ty” cliché.

Suddenly I was completely blindsided by tears. It was like a cosmic hand from the universe smacked me upside the head and I suddenly knew deep in my soul that all of this was true and I couldn’t stop it. I’d been living in some weird state of denial these past few weeks, but now I shook with sobs as reality sank in.

Mom knelt next to my chair and hugged me. “Let it out, honey, just let it out. It’s the only way we’re going to make it, by facing this head-on. And it hurts like hell, doesn’t it?”

In spite of my tears, I almost smiled when I realized Mom had cussed. That was twice in one week. She was making progress.

“M
om is
not
going to be some fake-baked realtor like Chloe’s mom,” I whispered into Toby’s floppy ear. It was early Tuesday morning and I was sneaking in one last hike before we headed home. Toby wriggled out of my hug and took off, having caught the whiff of something much more interesting than me.

Dad loved our mini-Stonehenge. He and I had built it the summer I was nine. We’d spent a whole weekend arranging rocks into a circle, laughing and messing around. Every time we came up to the cabin we checked on it, fixing parts that fell down and adding new rocks. Even when I whined about being away from my friends, I still loved our Stonehenge hikes.

As I came around a bend in the trail, I saw the stones. Toby waited for me, panting happily. The circle was only about ten feet in diameter since the clearing was small. Rocks of all sizes balanced on top of each other. Dad and I had used a photo of the real Stonehenge as our guide, but our replica was hardly exact. I approached the circle and knelt to raise some of the fallen rocks.

“Stay, Toby,” I commanded. He stayed, not venturing into the circle. He’d destroyed it once as a puppy, crashing into the circle and sending the rocks tumbling. He sighed heavily and flopped to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust while I busied myself with the stones.

It felt good to lift and move the rocks, to feel their rough surfaces anchoring me to a place where I felt safe. In the middle of the circle lay a small stone Dad and I had found years ago. It was a perfect skipping stone, flat and smooth, yet somehow it had morphed into almost a heart shape. Dad and I took turns holding it each time we visited, making wishes.

Today I hesitated to pick it up. It felt off somehow, doing this ritual by myself, but I needed to feel the smooth stone for myself. I held it in my hand and traced its shape with my forefinger. “Dad, please come home,” I whispered. “You’re the one who always says we can handle anything, as long as we face it together.”

I closed my eyes and pressed the stone to my chest, stone heart to human heart, and sent a prayer, a wish, a plea to the universe, to God, to whoever or whatever was listening.

“Bring him home. Even if we lose everything else, please bring my dad home safe.”

A
s I packed to leave the cabin, I glanced around my bedroom, at the bulletin board full of bumper stickers for Greenpeace, Wahoo Fish Tacos, and the Broncos, the posters of Phoenix, Snow Patrol, and my favorite movie stars. There were photos of Dad and me building a snowman, of Mom and me decorating a Christmas tree by the cabin’s fireplace.

I zipped up my duffel and then ran my hands along my bookshelves full of all my favorite series, especially Harry Potter, which I re-read every winter break in front of the cabin’s roaring fireplace. I didn’t want to believe this was the last day I’d spend at Camp Covington, but I feared it was.

As we drove back to town, me following Mom in Dad’s ancient Ford truck, I practiced visualizations like Dad told people to do on his DVDs. I imagined his BMW in the garage. I saw him closeted up in his office on the phone with J.J., somehow fixing this disaster. I pictured him greeting us with bear hugs, grinning like he always did under the spotlights.

I hoped that if I wished hard enough, my wish would come true.

Chapter Eight

September 30

T
he Grim Reaper, as I’d decided to call the truck, was a champ. We made it down the mountain with no problems. The only thing wrong with it was the sound system. My parents had actually driven that thing around listening only to AM radio? How had they survived? I mean, I wasn’t expecting an MP3 jack but at least FM?

After listening to some political blathering on talk radio for a few minutes, I turned it off and looked at Toby. “Guess we’ll just have to sing to ourselves, Toblerone.”

And so we did. I sang most of the
Wicked
soundtrack, which I’d memorized during the hours spent listening to Sal rehearsing it. Toby chimed in with a howl every once in a while.

My dad had been so mad when I taught Toby to sing. “Don’t encourage that god-awful howling,” he’d growled at my nine-year-old self.

“It’s not howling, it’s singing,” I’d protested.

At the time, Toby and I were singing along to pop music Dad hated. Looking back, I think that was the problem. If we’d been singing to music Dad approved of, like the Rolling Stones, he might’ve cheered us on.

We must have been a funny sight driving down the highway, Toby and me singing in an old truck that belched an occasional blue puff of smoke with a BMPRCRP license plate. Dad said it meant “Bumper Crop” for Harvest, but in my mind it was always “Bumper Crap.”

Once we hit civilization again, Mom and I pulled into a 7-Eleven to gas up our vehicles.

“I’m going into Pam’s office for the afternoon,” Mom said. “But you don’t have to go back to school. Enjoy your mental health day.”

“Thanks.” I grinned at her. It felt good to play hooky on a school day, since I never did.

B
ack in town, Toby and I stopped at the Chewybacca Boutique. My former allowance of one hundred bucks a week had dwindled to an occasional twenty from Mom. I’d saved enough to buy a bag of the good stuff for Toby. Next, I ran into the grocery store to grab some Doritos and fruit. Mom had said to buy healthy food, thus the fruit. Now I’d used up most of my cash. God, I needed money.

Charlie had texted me over the weekend, checking in on us. His warmth and concern drew me like a magnet to his corner of town, plus I had more questions about my dad. And there was always the possibility of eye candy, if Lucas was working.

I drove to his shop, then parked a block away and sat debating with myself, suddenly overcome by shyness, remembering how I’d practically run out of the store last time.

“This is stupid,” I muttered aloud. “Stop being such a coward.”

Visor mirror inspection for food in teeth. Check. Cell phone ready in case anything weird happened and I needed to fake getting an emergency text. Check. God, I was so not my dad’s Tri!Umphant! daughter. He’d walk into this store like he owned the place and sell a full set of his life-changing DVDs to anyone within shouting distance.

As I approached the store, Lucas nodded at me from the sidewalk where he leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Too bad he smoked; that was the only problem with his otherwise perfect look. I tripped on the curb while fumbling with Toby’s leash. Oh yeah, I was gonna
rock
this.

Toby dragged me toward Lucas, who flicked his cigarette butt into a trash can. “Nasty habit. One of these days I’ll kick it.” He bent down to rub Toby’s ears. “So you got some new wheels?” He stood up, tilting his head toward the truck.

“More like old wheels. It’s my dad’s truck.” I ducked my head, embarrassed. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I lived on a farm.” I glanced up to find him watching me curiously.

“I like trucks. Not just any girl can pull off driving one.”

What the heck did that mean? I was too flustered to ask.

He held the door open for me, bowing and flashing a grin. “Come on in, niece of Charlie.”

Toby dragged me into the store, his nose seeking out the donuts. My uncle was nowhere in sight. “Where is he?” I asked.

Lucas put a hand in his front pocket and he pulled out his cell. My gaze followed his movement, straight to his crotch. I blushed and looked desperately around the store for something else to stare at.

“Hang on a sec.” Lucas’s fingers tapped on his cell. I assumed he was texting Charlie to announce my arrival.

My body felt turned inside out, all of my nerves skittering along the surface of my skin instead of staying inside where they belonged. What was wrong with me? Woodbridge was filled with hot guys but I never reacted like this. Not even around Ryan.

Lucas sauntered to the other side of the counter with Toby close at his heels.

“Toby!” Embarrassed, I snapped my fingers at my dog. “Get over here.” Toby ignored me, watching Lucas with adoration.

Lucas laughed. “Looks like Toby’s still in love with me.”

“Apparently so.” I returned Lucas’s smile, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.

Get a grip Darcy. You’re here to see your uncle. Your life is falling apart. This is no time for a hormonal meltdown.

“Water?” Lucas asked. “Coffee?” He grinned. “Just black coffee here; no hazelnut.”

“Water please.” I feigned interest in a stack of old magazines on the counter. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, he’d go away.

A water bottle slid toward me on the counter, pushed by long fingers anchored to a perfectly sculpted arm.

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t do it.
Where the heck was my uncle? I took a sip of water.

“Are you okay?” asked Lucas. “You look kind of stressed.”

Water squirted out of my nose. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my face. Dad would be so proud. I took a deep breath and met Lucas’s eyes again. He wasn’t laughing at me. He wasn’t laughing at all.

“I saw the Letterman show on YouTube,” he said quietly. “With the Top Ten list.”

Oh God.

I couldn’t think of a thing to say, so I didn’t say anything.

Lucas pulled a screwdriver out of his back pocket and started taking apart an old radio. I was grateful I didn’t have to make eye contact anymore. Just watching his face as he concentrated on the radio was causing me plenty of internal havoc.

The weird “bwahahaa” noise sounded as the door to the store opened. Lucas glanced up and I swung around on my stool.

“Darcy.” Uncle Charlie smiled at me like I was holding a lottery check. “I’m so glad you came back to see me.” He glanced at Lucas. “Us.”

I blushed. “Yeah, uh, s-sorry about last time,” I stammered. “Leaving in a hurry.”

“We’re the ones who owe you an apology,” Charlie said, shooting a cryptic look at Lucas. “We didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Lucas looked up from the radio, meeting my eyes. “Definitely not,” he said. “It sucks about your car.” He held my gaze. “And everything else.”

I swallowed and blinked nervously. Maybe I should have worn some of Sal’s eye shadow, something sparkly to deflect all this intense eye contact.

“It’s okay. I was the one who freaked out. I’m just kind of overwhelmed.”

Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. If I closed my eyes I’d swear it was my dad. “Of course you are,” Charlie said. “I’ve been thinking about your predicament, trying to think of some way I can help you and your mom.”

Predicament. Ha. What a polite little word. I was calling it the Tri!Umphant! Shit Storm myself, but I wasn’t going to tell Charlie that. Even though I felt surprisingly safe and comfortable with him, I didn’t know him well enough for cussing. Yet.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s kind of why I came by. I want to talk to you about my dad.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Charlie said. He hooked Lucas with a commanding gaze. “Hold down the fort, Captain Jack. And keep an eye on Toby for us while we walk.”

Heat flooded my face. So I wasn’t the only one who thought Lucas looked kind of like Johnny Depp? Only taller, and not at all scrawny, and with only one visible tattoo.

Charlie winked at me as we left the store. “That’s Lucas’s nickname. All the girls around here call him that.”

My body betrayed me and I giggled like a middle-schooler.

Charlie laughed as we walked down the street. “Sounds like you agree. That’s part of the reason I hired him. My sales to girls have increased dramatically. That, and he’s got magic hands that can fix anything.”

I tried not to think of stalker girls flooding the thrift store waiting for some time with Lucas and his magic hands.

Charlie and I walked down Broadway. We passed a pawn shop and smoke shop before I worked up the courage to ask my question.

“So,” I said. “About my dad. He’s never done anything like this before. Just disappeared.” I took a breath. “I wondered if he, you know, ever did something like this before? Maybe when he was younger?”

Charlie didn’t respond right away. We walked by an antique shop and a weird store that sold only rubber ducks. It made me smile. If this place could make it, maybe some day I’d open a salt and pepper shaker store.

“No,” Charlie said, answering my question. “He didn’t. You don’t have any idea where he is?”

I sighed. “He sends postcards. We never know where they’ll be from.”

“He’s not answering his phone, is he? I’ve left him messages and texted him.”

“No,” I said. “Mom and I keep trying his phone, too. But he never calls back. He checks in with J.J., his partner, so we know he’s okay.” At least we hope he is, I thought.

“I can only imagine how scary this is for you, Darcy. But I want you to know your dad would never leave you and your mom forever. He’ll come back.” He let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know when. But he will.”

I wanted to believe it. Hearing my uncle say it gave me a tiny burst of hope.

We’d reached the end of the double block. Charlie turned around. “Let’s head back. I want you to meet Liz.”

We walked in companionable silence until Charlie stopped in front of a coffee shop. The sign on the brick wall overhead said “Tin Lizzy’s” spelled out in metal script, with the dots over the “I’s” shaped like coffee mugs. The barista behind the counter looked up as we entered, her face lighting when she saw Charlie. She was beautiful in the way only middle-aged hippie chicks can be, with long, thick brownish-gray hair, beautiful skin, and huge brown eyes. She was dressed like a granola, but on her it looked elegant. I had the crazy thought that I wanted to be just like her when I was forty years old.

“Charlie.” Her voice was musical. “This must be Darcy.” She turned her big doe eyes on me. Everything about her warmed me like some kind of cosmic hug.

“Darcy, this is Liz, owner of this marvelous caffeine emporium.” Charlie and Liz shared a look so sizzling I realized they were more than just friendly business owners. Not a thought I wanted to dwell on.

“What can I make you?” Liz asked. She gave me a warning frown, though her eyes danced with laughter. “No foo-foo drinks, though.”

So no strawberry frap. Got it.

“I’m not really thirsty right now. But thanks.”

She gestured to the pastry case. “Hungry? It’s on the house.”

The croissants looked tempting, but then I thought of how sporadically I’d been running with Toby lately and shook my head.

Glancing around the store, I noticed a faded
help wanted
sign in the window.
“Part-time barista needed: nights and weekends. Free drinks and food!”

Liz needed a barista. I needed a job. Should I apply?

“Um, the barista job?” I said to Liz, trying to force the tremble out of my voice. “Is it still available?”

She and Charlie exchanged surprised looks.

She nodded. “Are you interested?”

I’d suck at customer service. I didn’t know how to talk to strangers. I’d break the fancy espresso machine. Lucas would see what an idiot I was, when he came in for his high-maintenance coffee drink.

“Maybe,” I said, answering her question.
Probably
.

Liz smiled. “You could apply right now.” She gestured toward the gleaming copper espresso machine that looked like something from a steampunk movie. “Show me what you can do.”

I swallowed. I made Mom a pot of coffee every morning, to chase away her hangovers, but that was the extent of my barista skills. “I should probably check with my mom first,” I said.
Wimp
.

“I could use someone reliable,” Liz said. “I’ve had to fire the past couple of people I’ve hired because they were so flaky.”

Yikes. I’d never had a job before, because I hadn’t needed the money. Listening to Liz, I realized this was a big deal. I thought of one of Dad’s favorite lines:
never commit unless you mean it.

“You can come by anytime to apply.” She grinned. “I practically live here. Just ask Charlie.”

“I’ll let you know,” I said, and then turned to Charlie to say good-bye.

He pulled me into a hug. “Don’t be a stranger, favorite niece.” The hug intensified, reminding me of Dad. “I mean it,” he whispered in my ear.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

I left Liz and Charlie together in the coffee shop, since I was ready to get Toby and head home. What was it about this neighborhood? It was so unlike my part of town, but I wasn’t scared. I felt…comfortable. Was it because it was so different? Because it was easier to hide here? It was highly unlikely I’d run into anyone from Woodbridge.

Maybe hiding out was a good idea. Dad obviously thought so. But I wouldn’t hide 24/7 like him. If I got a job with Liz I’d just hide out here a few nights a week and some weekends. Plus I’d make money.

“So what do you think of Tin Lizzy’s?” Lucas’s low voice stopped me in my tracks. I was so lost in thought I hadn’t noticed him standing on the sidewalk, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. Toby lunged for me, and I took the leash from Lucas, careful to avoid skin contact.

“It’s great,” I sighed. I thought again about working there, and pictured myself standing behind the counter, waiting on customers.

Lucas nodded. “Yeah, it’s a cool place. And Liz is awesome.” He exhaled smoke from his perfectly straight nose.

I crinkled my own nose as the cigarette smoke reached me.

He stubbed out his cigarette quickly and tossed it into a trash can. “I need to get back to work,” he said. “Broken toasters are calling.”