Page 96 of Four Dates and A Forever
“Not even one bit.” Jillian lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “Margo went over Darcy’s head and told the family to get here an hour early. Darcy wasn’t even dressed when Margo busted in with her closest friends in tow looking for tea. Now the woman is ranting about taking a picture of the entire family in the rose garden to use for this year’s Christmas card.”
Rain dotted the windshield and ground, and that bad feeling grew until Piper could feel it pressing against her ribs. “She does know that a storm is coming, right?”
Jillian laughed. “I don’t think Zeus himself could take on Margo when she’s like this. So please tell me you’re going to arrive before she begins aiming her death glare my direction,” Jillian begged. “With everything Darcy and Gage went through to get here, today has to be perfect. And that means keeping Margo appeased and away from Darcy. And since Darcy’s my bestie, that task apparently falls to me. When I volunteered to be Margo’s keeper, I had forgotten what nightmares are truly made of.”
Piper had firsthand experience with nightmares who walked in the daylight. She wasn’t scared of a five-foot-nothing sourpuss in pearls. “She isn’t that bad.”
“She is. Which reminds me, are you wearing the dress?” she asked as if Piper had a choice in the matter. Which she most definitely did not.
She looked down at the designer dress Jillian had made her try on—then buy. It was a little dustier—and a whole lot draftier—than it had been earlier, but with a few safety pins, a wet wipe, and lint roller it would do. “I’m wearing the dress.”
“Thank god. Margo told me everyone needs to be in appropriate attire, even the staff.”
“My closet was filled with appropriate photographer attire. Some of it is even press-core approved. Yet, I’m dressed as if I’m going to high tea.” She tugged at the neckline and signed. “Or the Queen’s funeral.”
“Yeah, well, if it goes with pearls, it’s Margo approved,” Jillian said. “She’s driving me crazy. So when I say I need you here now, I need you herenow.”
Piper took in the tire iron extending from a lug nut, then the tempest on the horizon. She calculated that she had less than fifteen minutes before the late summer drizzle turned into a Portland downpour. “I can fix the tire, but it will take time. Can you come get me? I’m just at the bottom of the hill.”
There was a long pause, long enough that perspiration beaded down her spine.
“God, I wish I could. But today, of all days, my son decided he’s scared of dogs and one of the brothers brought his wife’s dog, who peed in my purse. Not on it—in it. And I still have one hundred twenty-six mini cakes to frost before Margo decides my dessert isn’t quite right and does it herself.”
Piper eyed the distance from her car to the top of the hill. It was like being stuck in the middle of the ocean in a life raft with only a whisk to paddle to shore.
Suck it up, buttercup.
“I’ll figure it out. I promise.”
“Before the storm hits. God, Piper, please tell me you’ll get here before the storm hits.”
It would be close, but she could make the hike.
“Fate herself couldn’t stop me.” Especially if it meant disappointing Jillian.
The two had met at the community park over the summer, during team pictures for the local Tiny Tikes football league. Piper had been conned into taking the team photo, and Jillian had volunteered enough cakepops to feed a small army. They’d bonded over the coach being a ginormous prick, which lead them to the conclusion that all men were ginormous pricks, and—several cakepops and a juice box later—they’d cemented a budding friendship.
A friendship Piper had come to treasure. She didn’t have many friends growing up. Especially ones like Jillian, who not only had her life together but also cared enough about Piper to stand in her corner if the need arose.
That’s because you’re difficult,a little voice said from deep inside. A voice that sounded a whole lot like her mother.
Driven, Piper corrected.Okay, stubborn. Two qualities that had saved her life more than once.
With an unpredictable alcoholic for a mother and a chaotic childhood, Piper was wary of people’s intentions. Moving from town to town, her mom burning through husbands like most people went through chips—you can’t just have one—it made it hard to cement connections. Even harder to trust that the relationship could go the distance. So, she built walls. Big, impenetrable walls that were nearly impossible to scale.
But while she might be afraid to let people in, a little thunder and lightning didn’t even rank on her list of things to run screaming from. If she had to trudge up that hill to get to the party on time, then trudging she’d do.
Piper opened the back door and pulled a pair of black combat boots off the floorboard and slipped them on. She grabbed her blazer, back up clothes—just in case the dress didn’t make it—and was reaching for her camera bag when Jillian squealed. “Oh wait! I forgot. One of the brothers took an Uber from the airport and the driver just left. I can have him double back to pick you up.”
Piper dropped her coat back in the car and climbed inside to avoid the rain. “You are a goddess. Tell him if he gets to me before the ground turns to mud, I’ll double his tip. And Jillian, thank you. I so owe you.”
“Friday night is girls’ night. No excuses this time, and the first round is on you.”
“Done and done.” Piper disconnected.
Minutes ticked by with no sign of the hired car.
“Depending on a friend is not the same as being dependent,” Piper said aloud then pulled out a tub of emergency peanut butter from her purse. Because if there was ever an emergency, pink silk with black hearts was it.
