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Authors: Sally John

The Beach House (23 page)

BOOK: The Beach House
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As one, the four of them glared daggers. Jo knew she wasn’t alone, sure as she knew anything. Though only two of them were still practicing Roman Catholics, there were certain beliefs they held in common, as much a part of their makeup as a beating heart. Abortion would not be an option for any of them.

He held up his hands as if being arrested. “Whoa. Sorry. Don’t mind me. I just stopped by to wish Char happy birthday.”

Char chuckled nervously. “Where are my manners? This is my neighbor Todd Brooks. This is Jo, Molly, and Andie.” She pointed to each and then turned back to the group hug. “He was on his way to Phoenix and came here first to say hey.”

Jo wasn’t sure when San Diego had been moved to a new location between Chicago and Phoenix, but she was sure a major wrench had been thrown into the schedule.

So what else was new?

Thirty-Four

To Char’s relief, the group hug dissipated. Molly seemed recovered enough, though she still wiped at her eyes. Jo faced forward on the couch, and Andie stood by the fireplace.

Char rose from the floor and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, still holding the bouquet, and smiled. “Y’all don’t mind if Todd tags along with us, do you?”

Of course they would mind. She knew that even before his thoughtless comment about pregnancy in the twenty-first century. He was an anomaly to them. A male friend who not only remembered her birthday but flew halfway across the country to surprise her? How heroic was that? But it would make no sense to the unromantic, the unadventurous. There was no place for it within the stuffy sense of propriety she’d felt the others bundled themselves in like mink coats on a warm summer’s day.

Todd, naturally affable, stepped further into the room and sat in the nearest chair with a gracious smile. “I said I would take her to Beverly Hills myself, but she has her heart set on spending the day with you three. My rental is a four-seater convertible, otherwise I’d drive the five of us.”

Molly blew her nose.

Jo coughed.

Andie said, “It’s your day, Char. Of course we don’t mind if you bring along another friend. The more the merrier. Though I can’t imagine a man all that interested in a women’s gabfest and shopping on Rodeo Drive.”

It was as near a lecture as Andie would deliver. Char suspected the others would hold their tongues for a while. Still, the palpable tension wasn’t exactly what she’d planned on for her birthday. With friends like them, who needed enemies? Todd Brooks included.

While the others changed clothes, Char waited with Todd outside on the patio. As usual the whole area was bathed in sunshine. They sat at the round table under its umbrella. The chairs were plain white inexpensive resin—not an Adirondack in sight!—but she had improved their looks and comfort with floral cushions from a closet.

“Char, I am sorry for intruding. I thought my visit would be a lark for you.”

“It is! Don’t you worry none. They’ll be fine.” She paused. “I do have one favor to ask you though.”

“What’s that?”

She smiled. “Please don’t repeat that line you used on me about stealing your neighbor’s wife.”

His wide grin lifted his cheeks and dark sunglasses. “Sounds like an invitation to blackmail. You have to give me something if I promise not to tell.”

“Todd Brooks! You are audacious!”

“I hope so.” He stretched out his legs and leaned back in the chair, a little smile on his lips, the same kind worn by a cat assured that the mouse had to come out sooner or later.

Char shivered in delight. He had sworn at the restaurant that his comment was a joke. But…the way he looked at her—eyes at half-mast, head tilted—she knew he left the next move up to her. Whether or not it remained a joke was her choice.

Well, she was choosing to treat it as a joke.

Which only made the flirting all that more luscious.

They zipped along the freeway in Jo’s SUV. Char sat between Andie and Todd in the back seat. The two of them chatted on and on about their sons while she mentally scolded herself. Surely the tension she felt was simply her imagination run rampant.

Except when Jo and Molly entered the picture. Jo drove in total silence, Molly a mannequin beside her in the front passenger seat. They brooded, no doubt about it. No imagination involved whatsoever.

Honestly! Those two still act like they own all the rights to a blue funk. At least Andie knows how to behave in a civilized manner
.

Todd leaned around her now, making some conversational point with Andie. His shoulder rested against Char’s. The physical contact was unnecessary, given the fact that the backseat was spacious and he wasn’t that big of a guy. As a matter of fact, he was nowhere near as tall as Cam.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was his touch increased the tension. She wrestled with emotions. On the one hand she tingled. On the other, she squirmed.

Then Molly’s words of three days ago resonated in her mind:
Friday is your day, Char. All I can say is beware. Turning forty can be hazardous to your health
.

She remembered conveying the conversation to Todd during one of their late-night phone chats.

“Pff!” She had fluttered her lips. “Stuff and nonsense.”

Todd laughed. “I don’t know, Charlaine. When what’s-her-face hit her fortieth, she yawled like a banshee for days, inconsolable. She was convinced her life was over.”

Of course Char knew he referred to his now ex-wife.

She puffed again. “Pff to that too. We know her cheese had slid right off her cracker, which she proved by leaving you two years later. I believe I am still in full possession of my mental faculties. And I really don’t give a hoot about finding a few gray hairs, unlike what’s-her-face.”

“You’ll make quite an attractive mature woman. I see your hair as pure snow white, though, not gray. And not for years to come.”

“You sweet talker, you.” She had smiled, filing his words into her heart like a piece of chocolate hidden in the cupboard to be savored later. “Anyway, my day won’t be like theirs. In the first place, I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t have Jo’s struggle. Secondly, I am not discontent over the fact I don’t have a career. All Molly can talk about is how much she wants to teach full-time. Thirdly, I would not be devastated if my husband forgot to tell me happy birthday like Paul did Andie. How could I be? Cam forgets every year.”

“You are one confident thirty-nine-year-old.” He chuckled.

“Do I sound horribly boastful? I don’t mean to. It’s just that Mama—Well, you’ve heard this before. She taught me a thing or two about self-control.” She clung to Ellen Stowe’s promise that a genteel disposition and self-discipline would carry Char through any upheaval life could throw at her.

But her mama had never reached the age of forty. Apparently the guarantee expired because this birthday had turned into one foul kettle of squid.

From the moment she awoke—too, too early for her sensitive nature—the day had indeed been a nightmare. Control had been swept right out of her hands. She had no control over Molly’s baby news or Andie’s need to take a hike or Jo’s sudden interest in work calls, all at the precise time her friends should have been getting ready to leave for Beverly Hills. She had no control over an army of police blocking her path or Julian coercing her into breakfast. She certainly had no control over Todd Brooks showing up to confuse the situation and—of all things—attack their beliefs right off the bat.

Despite the blast of cold air aimed directly at her in the backseat, Char broke into a sweat.

Charlaine, sugar, horses sweat, men perspire, ladies only glow
.

Right, Mama. But I can’t even breathe at the moment. I am sweating
.

Her chest felt tight as a drum.

Suddenly Jo broke her silence with a loud groan.

Char focused through the windshield and deciphered the reason. Just over the crest of a hill was a string of red brake lights. They stretched across all five lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic and headed north as far as the eye could see, which must have been for miles. The car slowed to a stop.

Jo flipped on the radio.

Todd stretched his arm across the back of the seat and lightly touched her neck. “Welcome to Southern California.”

She moved her head in a circular motion, releasing a knot from her neck as well as his hand.

Yes, indeed. The day had become a hazard zone. And there was no relief in sight.

Sixty minutes later Char practically fell out of the car. Desperate for air and space, she tangled her own two feet together.

Todd grasped her elbow and guided her descent. “You okay, birthday girl?”

She grunted in reply.

Jo shut her door. “Char, I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

They had exchanged the ridiculous phrases ad nauseam during the past hour.

They were in Del Mar, the city they had seen the previous day when visiting Jo’s house and office. With a serious accident somewhere up the freeway and predictions of three-hour delays, Beverly Hills flumped into a pipe dream. Jo had maneuvered her car onto the shoulder and down an exit ramp, promising the entire slow way superb boutiques and an excellent lunch.

Andie shut her door and grinned. “I have an idea! Let’s all get new outfits, not just Char. I need something spunky. Jo, you need something with color. That beige is getting tiresome. And Molly, you need maternity! Todd, you can carry packages or go find a men’s store.”

Char stared at her along with the others.

Andie wrinkled her brow. “What?”

Jo burst into laughter. “Who is this cheerleader inside Andie Sinclair’s body?”

Molly added, “Make that bossy cheerleader.”

Andie shrugged. “Turning forty is hazardous to one’s well-being. Let’s go ease the pain.”

BOOK: The Beach House
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