Playing for KeepsBy: Jill Shalvis
Sadie Lane walked through the day spa, closing up for the night, alone as usual. Her coworkers had left, but even if they hadn’t, they’d just be milling around with their ridiculously expensive teas, complaining about how hard this job was.
They had no idea how ridiculous that was to her, but as the lowest person on the ladder, she’d managed to keep her opinions to herself. She was sure it’d only be a matter of time before her mouth overtook her good sense.
Moving around shutting down the computers and dimming the lights, she fantasized about going home and stripping out of her daytime yoga pants and replacing them with her nighttime yoga pants. Unfortunately, even after eight hours on her feet, that wasn’t in the cards for her.
Her phone buzzed an incoming call and a glance at the screen gave her an eye twitch. “Hey, Mom.”
“You always forget to call me back. I’ve been trying to discuss your sister’s wedding details with you for weeks now, and . . .”
Sadie listened with half her brain, the other half wandering off. Did she have time to grab an order of sliders and crispy fries from O’Riley’s, the pub across the courtyard, before heading to her other job? Lunch had been eons ago . . .
“Mercedes Alyssa Lane, are you even listening to me?” her mom asked.
Being full-named always got her back up. It wasn’t that she had anything against her name—okay, so she sort of did because who named a kid after the car where that kid had been conceived?—but more than anything, she had a whole lot against her mother’s tone. “Of course I’m listening.”
She wasn’t. She was thinking about dessert after the sliders. Maybe cookies, maybe a brownie. Maybe both.
“Honey,” her mom said, her voice going tentative. “You’re not feeling . . . sad again, are you?” She whispered sad as if was a bad word.
And to be fair, for most of Sadie’s teenage years it had been a bad word, along with angry , misunderstood , sullen , and unhappy . To say that she and her mom had a complicated relationship was pretty much the understatement of the year.
“Nope,” Sadie said. “I’m fine.” This was an automated response because she didn’t want to deal with the all you have to do to get over the blues is think positively speech again, well-meaning as it was. But her mom was winding up for the big finish, so Sadie braced herself because in three, two, one—
“Remember what Dr. Evans always told you. To get over the blues, all you have to do is think positively.”
Resisting the urge to smack her phone into her own forehead, Sadie drew a deep breath and sank into the cushy chair in her station, where her clients sat while she applied permanent makeup. This was her bread-and-butter job, seeing as the love-of-her-heart job—working as a tattoo artist in the Canvas Shop right next door—didn’t pay enough yet. And call it silly and frivolous, but she’d grown fond of eating.
The problem was, all the time on her feet working way too many hours a day left her exhausted. And maybe the teeniest bit cranky. But not, it should be noted, sad. At least not at the moment. “Mom, you know it’s not that easy, right?”
“To think positively? Of course it is. You just do it. Take your sister, for instance . . .”
Sadie closed her eyes and caught a few z ’s while her mom went on about Clara, whom Sadie loved and adored even if she was annoyingly perfect—
“Sadie? Yes or no?”
“Hmm?” She sat upright, opening her eyes. She’d missed a question, but pretending she knew what was going on at all times was her MO. If she couldn’t blow her family away with her brilliance, plan B was always to baffle them with her bullshit. “Sure,” she said. “Whatever you guys decide.”
“Well, that’s very . . . sweet of you,” her mom said, sounding surprised. “And very unlike you.”
Hoping she hadn’t just agreed to wear a frothy Little Bo-Peep bridesmaid dress, Sadie let her gaze shift to the window. Over a hundred years ago, the Pacific Pier Building had been built around a beautiful cobblestoned courtyard that each of the ground floor shops and businesses opened onto, making it convenient for people watching.