Sisters Like Us

Before they could answer, her phone rang again.

“This is Harper.”

“It’s Cathy. You’re being ridiculous, so you know, but you do good work and I want to see if we can find a point of compromise. How about ten dollars a bag and I’ll need them in three days?”

Harper held in a groan. There were forty bags, at about thirty minutes each, plus she had to go to three different stores to buy the supplies. That was twenty hours of work plus all the running around, for a grand total of four hundred dollars.

She didn’t dare do the math to figure out the pitiful sum she would be making by the hour, but if she stayed up most of tonight and tomorrow night, she could meet the deadline.

“Harper?”

“Fine. Ten dollars a bag.”

“Great. I’ll let them know and I’ll be by Thursday morning to pick them up. You’re the best, Harper. Thanks.”

Cathy hung up before Harper could say anything. Harper returned her attention to the dogs.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she muttered. “I’m letting her take advantage of me. That I’m probably making two dollars an hour on this job. Well, it’s not this job, is it? It’s all the other work she brings me.”

Jazz’s steady gaze never wavered. Harper sighed.

“You’re right. I let her take advantage of me and that doesn’t make any sense. I should be firm. I should tell her my price and stick to it. I’m training her to always undercut me. I get that.”

She was sure the dog had more to say, but before they could continue the conversation, the doorbell rang. Thor and Jazz immediately rose. Jazz looked at Thor, who gave a low warning bark.

“Yes,” Harper said, pushing past them. “I heard it, too, but thanks for mentioning it.”

The dogs kept pace with her, but didn’t walk ahead of her or run. When they reached the front door, they both sat and waited.

“I really need to read that instruction book Becca got,” Harper told them as she opened the door. “Yes? Can I help you?”

A tall, gangly twentysomething guy stood on her porch. He was blond and wore board shorts, a T-shirt and athletic shoes. The T-shirt had a drawing of a cartoon version of him on it, along with the phrase Leader of the Pack.

“Harper Szymanski?” the guy asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Dwayne. I’m here to walk your dogs.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Thor and Jazz. It’s a daily service, which means Monday through Friday. I drive them to the beach and we walk along the boardwalk. It’ll take about ninety minutes.” Dwayne flashed her a smile. “Your husband paid for the top dog package. He must really like your dogs.”

Harper didn’t know what to say beyond, “He’s not my husband.” Because there was only one person who would have thought to arrange a dog-walking service. She would guess Lucas had done it for Thor, then added on Jazz. Damn the man for being thoughtful, good-looking and only interested in gorgeous bubbleheads in their twenties.

She held open the door for Dwayne to come inside. He saw Thor and Jazz and grinned.

“Oh, wow. Dobies. You guys are beautiful.” He held out his hand so they could sniff his fingers, then he squatted in front of them and said, “Shake.”

They both obliged.

“Lucas said you two were the bomb. He’s right. Super great manners.” He stood and looked at her. “I need their leashes.”

Harper got them from the bottom drawer in the table by the front door. She handed over a new roll of poop bags, hoping the dogs would do their thing somewhere other than her backyard.

“Thanks,” Dwayne said, snapping on the leashes. “We’ll be back in an hour and a half. Do you want me to run them?”

“That would be great.”

“Right? A tired dog is a happy dog. See ya.” He looked at the dogs. “Thor, Jazz, heel.”

The dogs stood and moved to his left side, Jazz taking the inside position. Dwayne walked them down the steps and out to his battered pickup. It was only after he’d driven away that Harper realized she probably should have checked with Lucas first. Just in case.

She quickly texted him, not sure when she would hear a response. Sometimes he was available, but a lot of the time, his phone was off. She supposed that came from being on the job catching bad guys or whatever it was he did in his day.

This time he answered her in a matter of seconds.

Are you concerned that someone cooked up an elaborate scheme to steal the dogs by pretending to be a dog walker?

Her lips twitched as she realized he kind of had a point.

I hadn’t thought of it that way. Thank you for including Jazz on the walk. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. I know I do.

Happy to help. You can deal with your guilt by baking me something.

You know I will.

That I do.

She was still smiling as she walked into her pantry and studied the shelf that held her baking supplies. Not cookies, she thought. They were too ordinary. Tarts. She would bake Lucas chocolate tarts. But first she would go get the supplies she needed for the gift bags, then drop off the T-shirts she was shipping to her comedian client, Misty, then swing by the post office to mail Lucas’s bills. Then she would bake tarts and tonight, while the world slept, she would make gift bags and curse her inability to stand up for herself when she knew she absolutely should.

* * *

Becca sat on the front porch step, her arm around Jazz. The dog was leaning heavily on her, her body providing comforting warmth.

“Are you still confused?” Becca asked the dog. “It’s been a few days now and we have a routine. I’m sorry I have to be gone for school, but you have Thor, right? I could talk to Aunt Stacey about Bay. Maybe you three could have a playdate.”

Jazz stretched out on the porch and rested her head on her paws, but even as she shifted positions, she still stayed close. Becca kept her arm around the dog, figuring they both needed the comfort.

Jazz wasn’t the only one confused—Becca was starting to think she would never know everything going on, even in her own life. She missed Kaylee so much—more so now that Jordan had gone totally drama queen about Nathan. Kaylee would have called her on her crap and told her to stop talking about herself. Kaylee would have made a joke and smiled at Becca and asked about Jazz because that was what Kaylee had always done. She’d been a buffer against darker forces.

But there wasn’t anything between Becca and Jordan, so Becca spent her day hearing about how amazing Nathan was and how he loved Jordan so much. Theirs was the greatest love ever and boyfriend-less Becca couldn’t possibly understand. Worse, Jordan chided her about being bitter and angry, which wasn’t true. Okay, not the bitter part. She didn’t care that Jordan had Nathan, but she was starting to get pissed about her friend’s attitude.

“Bay would never act like that to you,” Becca told the dog. “You have better taste in friends.”

For a second, she wished she could talk to her mom and tell her what was happening. Her mom could be dorky, but sometimes she had really good advice. Even if she didn’t, she used to always make Becca feel better. They would bake something or do a craft project.

Not anymore, she thought grimly. Even if she was willing to do something so childish, her mom wasn’t available. She was always too busy with her VA business.

Becca leaned over and kissed the top of Jazz’s head, then straightened. She was about to pull out her phone and check the time when it buzzed with a text. She looked at the screen, then caught her breath when she read the message.

I’m tied up at work, kiddo. Sorry. Let’s reschedule for some time next week.

Tears burned in her eyes. Becca blinked them away, telling herself to get over it. She knew she couldn’t depend on her dad and she was stupid if she thought he would ever change. He always had something else he had to be doing. As for getting tied up at work—that was a complete lie. He was a podiatrist, which meant scheduled appointments. He wasn’t a real doctor who had actual emergencies.

She shoved her phone back in her pocket and wiped her cheeks, just in case. Before she could scramble to her feet and escape to her room, Lucas pulled up and parked in front of her house.

He walked up the path and sat next to Jazz on the stairs, then patted the dog and smiled at her.

“Hey, kid.”

His words were way too close to what her dad called her. “I have a name,” she snapped.

“Yes, you do.” She waited for him to call her on her attitude, but instead he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. You’re here early.”

“I was in court for most of the day. It’s boring, but it’s a shorter day. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I said nothing was wrong.”

“You also lied. What is it?”

She stared at the top of Jazz’s head. “It’s just...” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “My dad blew me off again. I need fifty supervised hours to get my license. Mom’s too busy and my dad swore he would help, but he never shows up.” She rolled her eyes. “He said he was stuck at work. With what? An ingrown toenail? He doesn’t care about me anymore. I don’t think he ever did. He just walked out like I didn’t matter and now he won’t teach me to drive.”

It was so much more than she’d wanted to say, but there was no way to call back the words. She folded her arms across her chest and did her best to hold in the pain.

“Interesting,” Lucas said casually. “It’s a drag about your dad, but there’s time. It’s not like you need your license right away.”

She rocked forward and dropped her gaze to her Keds. “Yeah, well, Great-Aunt Cheryl didn’t just leave me the dogs. There’s a car.” She glanced at him and started talking quickly. “It’s a really good car. Ramon, her boyfriend, said it was in great condition and they’d always taken care of it. It’s safe and has air bags, and it’s not like my dad’s going to buy me a car and Mom sure can’t afford it.”

She sucked in a breath. “I don’t think Dad remembered to tell Mom because he was sick and she hasn’t said anything. The car is paid for. I know there’s going to be insurance and gas and stuff and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with that, but right now I need my license.”

Lucas nodded his head. “That’s a lot.”

“I know, right?”

He stood and called to Jazz, sent the dog in the house, then looked at Becca. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To practice your driving.”

“My mom’s not here.”

“I’m not taking you on the freeway, kid, I’m taking you to an empty parking lot to see what you know how to do and how we get along. If it goes well, I’ll talk to your mom when we get back.”

She stared at him. “Then what am I going to...” She spun to face the sleek, white Mercedes convertible. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew that one cost a lot. Maybe as much as their house.

“No way.”

He shrugged. “It’s insured. You’ll be fine. Do you have your temporary license?”

“Let me get it.”

She raced inside and dug her wristlet out of her backpack, then hurried back outside. Lucas stood by his car, the driver’s door open.

“The car’s not going to drive itself,” he called.

Excitement and hope fluttered in her stomach. If Lucas would really help her get her hours, then she wouldn’t have to depend on her dad or bug her mom. She vowed to do the best she could on their mini lesson so he would want to teach her more.

She joined him and got in the driver’s side. He sat next to her and explained how to set the seat and the mirrors.

“The car sits really low to the ground,” he told her. “It’s going to feel different than your mom’s SUV or your dad’s sedan. Also, it has a more powerful engine, so be careful when you hit the gas.”

She nodded, then wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans.

“Drive to the high school. Classes are out and there will be plenty of room to practice in the parking lot.” He winked. “Okay, start her up.”

She absolutely could not believe he was going to let her drive his car. Her mother had practically had a seizure the only time they’d practiced together.

She pushed the start button, then tried not to jump as the engine roared to life. She kept her foot on the brake as she shifted to Drive, then checked the mirrors four times before slowly pulling out onto the quiet street.

Mischief Bay High School was less than a mile away, but it took Becca nearly ten minutes to drive there. She stayed well under the twenty-five mile per hour speed limit and came to a full, lingering stop at every sign. By the time she pulled into the parking lot, she felt a little sick to her stomach.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted.

“Are you scared about driving or the car?” Lucas asked.

“Both.”

“Driving gets easier with practice. Right now you have to think about everything you’re doing. Once a few things become automatic, you’ll be more comfortable. As for my car, like I said, it’s insured. Okay, let’s start with the basics. Drive to the end of the parking lot, do a three-point turn, drive back and pull into that parking space.”

Becca tasted bile. “That’s your idea of the basics?”

He flashed her a grin. “I’ve seen Clueless, kid. At least we’re not going on the freeway.”

“I’m never going on the freeway.”

Thirty minutes later, Becca confidently circled the parking lot, making neat figure eights. She made a sharp turn ten feet in front of the flagpole and carefully backed into a parking space before turning to Lucas and laughing.

“I did it.”

“You did good. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. This car is great. It drives so easily and I’m in love with the backup camera. Thank you for helping me. I really had fun.”

“Me, too. Want to continue with the lessons?”

“Of course.”

Lucas had been calm the whole time. When she’d messed up, he’d had her stop so they could talk about what had gone wrong. She was still nervous about driving, but less so than she had been.

“I’ll talk to your mom,” he said. “If she agrees, then we’ll keep going. Oh, how are your grades?”

Becca felt herself flush. “They’re, um, okay.”

He looked at her without speaking.

She ducked her head. “I’m getting a couple of Cs and a few Bs.”

“I thought you were a good student.”

“I am.” Or she had been. Lately she hadn’t been that interested in school. What was the point? No one paid attention or cared how she was doing.

“I know you’re smart,” Lucas told her. “Something’s going on. If you want me to help you get your driving hours, you’re going to have to get your grades where they should be. A car is a lot of responsibility. If you can’t be bothered to take care of business at school, then you can’t be trusted with a car.”

No one had talked to her like that in forever. Becca was both thrilled and annoyed, which felt really good.

“You’re not the boss of me,” she said automatically.

“In this case, I am. It’s my time so it’s my rules. If you want my help, then you will get Bs or better in all your classes.”

“No problem.”

“I want proof.”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“There’s an old saying. Trust but verify. From now until you get your license, you will show me all your test scores. Understood?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Good. Now let’s go home.”

Becca made the return trip in half the time. She stayed at the speed limit, stopped at the stop signs for a quick count of one-two, then pulled up in front of her house just as her mom drove into the driveway.

They all got out at the same time. Harper turned toward them, then nearly dropped her purse. “What are you doing? Did you drive that car? You didn’t. Oh my God! Becca, no. Do you know what a car like that costs? Lucas, I swear, what were you thinking? No one asked me. Where’s your father? Weren’t you supposed to be practicing with him? I feel sick.”

Lucas shook his head. “She gets real wound up.”

“She does. I worry about her.”

“You should.” Lucas walked toward the SUV. “It’s fine, Harper. Terence couldn’t make it so I took Becca out for a practice session. Everything was fine and if it’s all right with you, I’m going to help her get in her practice hours.”

“Not in that car. There is absolutely no way.”

“I have insurance.”

“And a deductible!”

She started to say something else, but her phone rang. She touched her Bluetooth earpiece and said brightly, “This is Harper.”

Becca sighed. There was no talking to her mother now. Not when she was on with a client—and she was always on with a client.

Chapter Six

HARPER POURED ANOTHER cup of coffee. It was only seven in the morning and she was already exhausted. Of course a lot of that could be because she hadn’t slept much the previous night. She’d been up finishing the gift bags. Honest to God, she needed to grow a pair and stand up to that woman.

“Mom, we have to talk about my driving lessons.”

Harper drank more coffee as she turned to look at her daughter. Becca sat at the table, a faithful Jazz at her side. The dog had sure figured out who loved her the most. If Becca was home, Jazz was right there with her.

Driving! How was that possible? Becca was supposed to still be seven. Only she wasn’t. She was turning seventeen in the summer and talking about college. Harper swore silently. Her daughter was going to be heading off to college in less than eighteen months and she was making what, two dollars an hour on stupid gift bags?

The weight of failure threatened to make her topple over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to have it all together. Had going into business for herself been a mistake? She didn’t think so, but if it wasn’t the job, then she was the problem and she sure didn’t want to hear that.

“Mom?”

Harper did her best to keep her tone even. “I know we do, honey. And we will. This weekend, okay? We’ll sit down and come up with a plan.”

Her daughter sighed. “Sure.”

“What does that mean?”

“You always say we’ll talk about something, but then we never do. You’re too busy with work.”

Harper didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t. We will talk this weekend. You’ll see.”

Before she could think of a more convincing argument, the back door opened and Bunny walked in. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup in place and her clothes looked freshly laundered.

Harper was instantly aware of the fact that she hadn’t showered in maybe two days and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d put on makeup. She’d always worn her wavy hair in layers, but who had the time or money for that kind of maintenance? Lately she’d taken to simply pulling her hair back in a ponytail, which looked great on her beautiful sister but made her look like what she was—a woman of a certain age who had obviously given up.

“Morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could.

“Morning.” Her mother smiled at Becca, then frowned. “What are you eating?”

“Cereal.”

Harper reached for more coffee.

“Cereal?” Bunny shrieked. “Where’s your hot breakfast?” She turned to her daughter. “Harper Wray Szymanski, what is wrong with you? Your only child deserves a hot breakfast. As her mother, it’s the least you can do.”

“Grandma, cereal is fine. It’s a nice change.”

Bunny ignored that. “What’s next? Store-bought cookies? Fast food for dinner? Taking care of your family is your most important job.”

“You’re right, Mom,” Harper snapped. “Right now that means keeping food on the table. To pay for that, I have to work, so forgive me if I don’t have time to make waffles from scratch every single morning.”

“I always found the time.”

“You didn’t have a job.”

Becca quickly finished her cereal, then put the bowl on the floor for Jazz to lap up the milk. When the dog was done, she set the bowl in the sink and escaped. Harper wished she could run off with her.

“I didn’t have a job because I managed to keep my husband happy,” Bunny said in a huff. “Perhaps if you’d treated Terence a little better, he wouldn’t have left.”

The low blow connected right in her stomach.

“Mom, you don’t know anything about what went wrong in my marriage. It’s my business and you don’t have the right to judge me.”

“I’m not. I’m simply pointing out that if you—”

Harper’s cell phone rang. She grabbed it gratefully. “Mom, this is a client.”

“But it’s barely seven.”

“Yes, I know.” She pushed the button to accept the call. “This is Harper.”

“It’s Cathy. How are the bags coming?”

“They’ll be ready on time.” No way Harper was going to tell her they were already finished. Cathy would assume Harper had been exaggerating the time needed. Explaining she’d literally stayed up all night to finish them wouldn’t help, either.

“I’m glad to hear that. I have another job for you.”

“I was talking to you,” Bunny said between clenched teeth. “Tell her you’ll call her back.”

Harper turned her back on her mother, something she knew she was going to pay for. And speaking of paying. “Cathy, I’m happy to talk to you about more work, but I want to be clear. My rate is twenty-five dollars an hour, plus the cost of supplies. That is the price.”

“That’s ridiculous. My clients aren’t going to pay that.”

“Then I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”

“But you’ve always been willing to drop your price for me.” Her voice became softer. “Harper, I know you need the work. I’m doing you a favor.”

“What I need are jobs that pay me a reasonable amount. It’s your call, Cathy. I won’t be negotiating any more discounts.”

“That is totally unacceptable. Goodbye, Harper.” The phone went dead.

Harper turned back to her mother. Bunny raised her eyebrows. “With an attitude like that, it’s surprising you have any clients. Twenty-five dollars an hour for what you do? That’s ridiculous.”

“Thanks for the support, Mom.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“Right now I would rather you weren’t. That’s me being honest.”

Before she could say any more, she heard a quick knock on the front door, then Thor raced into the house followed by Lucas calling out, “It’s me.”

The hundred-and-ten-pound dog bounced up to Harper and woofed. Jazz joined him and they greeted each other with a quick sniff before tearing off into the living room. Lucas appeared with Persimmon at his side.

“Good morning,” the young woman said, sounding way too cheerful. “Thor and Jazz are so sweet together. Hi, Harper. Hi, Bunny.”

The gorgeous redhead wore a cute little dress and heels, which only made Harper feel even more frumpy and tired. Lucas walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“There’s no hot breakfast,” Bunny announced. “Harper has more important things to do with her time.” She looked at Lucas. “Would you like me to make you an omelet? I’m sure there’s something in the refrigerator, unless my daughter has stopped going to the grocery store.”

Lucas shot Harper a look. She wasn’t sure if it was questioning, filled with pity or both. Regardless, she waved him toward the table, figuring Persimmon would join him. While Bunny was distracted, Harper escaped to her small office. She would hide out there until everyone was gone. Maybe then she could get a couple of hours of sleep.

Her phone rang again. She put in her earpiece, then hit the button.

“This is Harper.”

“It’s Misty. Is it too early? I’m sorry to be calling, but I had to tell you.”

Her comedian client sounded breathless, but in a happy way.

“It’s not too early. What’s up?”

“You aren’t going to believe it. I don’t believe it. Oh, Harper, I’m going to be on an HBO special! It’s called Rising Stars or something like that. I can’t remember because I’m still in shock. It’s taping in a few weeks and then I’m going on tour.”