Page 16 of Sweet Caroline
“Don’t let me keep you.”
Balancing my laptop and my scalding mug, I pad across the sleek hardwood floor to my end of the house. Although we call it a cottage, Grandpa’s house is modern and far from quaint or rustic. Built into the hillside overlooking the river, the house has a long set of stairs leading to the front door, with a driveway sweeping up and around back to provide the more level entrance Grandpa now exclusively uses. Dad had footed the bill to have the place built for my grandparents a few years before Grandma got sick, and he’d spared no expense—he’d even had the foresight to include an accessibility ramp at the back entrance. Grandpa and I have a pretty good setup with our rooms being at opposite ends of the house, giving us each the privacy we need.
I set my mug on my nightstand and flip open my laptop as I settle onto my bed.
I’m only jotting down the beginning of an outline when several notifications chime in quick succession, Adrian’s name multiplying in a stack in the corner of my screen. Instead of reading it all, I call him, switching on my video.
“Caroline, have I got some bullshit for you!” It’s Adrian’s classic move: skipping the small talk and diving right in. From the jostling of his camera and the background blurring past, I’d guess he’s walking somewhere in downtown Seattle.
“Hey,” I say with a soft chuckle. “Well, spill.”
Smirking, he pauses to check over his shoulder, scanning the traffic before continuing to walk. “You rememberPortia Stanhope?”
I squeeze one eye shut, trying to remember. “The donor with the… the property in Vancouver? The ceramics retreat thing?”
“Yeah, her. So, there was this whole misunderstanding. We thought she was gonna donate the proceeds from the retreat, and she did, which is great, but get this: she also donated the ceramics themselves.”
“Wait, what?”
Adrian comes to an abrupt stop, eyes widening dramatically. “Exactly! What the fuck am I gonna do with fifty-plus shitty clay pots?”
“Why would she give them to us?” I almost laugh.
Us.Old habits die hard. I still think of the charity as ours, even though I’m essentially a silent partner now.
He starts walking again. “No fucking clue. I don’t think she’s really tuned in to what a youth mentorship charity needs. Money is good. Donate money, please and fucking thank you. Does she think underprivileged youth want shitty clay pots? What’s she smoking?” He drops his voice to a discreet mumble, lifting his brows. “Probably something she keeps in a shitty clay pot, is all I’m saying.”
I suppress a laugh. “She sounds… unique.”
He dead-eyes the camera. “Well, she’s gonna be there Saturday.”
“Oh.” I give Adrian a cautious look. “Delightful.”
“And she wants to discuss it with you, bestie.” He drags a hand through his short brown hair, scanning the street.
“What? Why?”
“I dunno. Says you’ll understand her vision or some shit.Woman to woman.”
“Hoo boy,” I sigh.
“So, anyway, I need you to turn on that thousand-watt smile and work your magic, or this hippie granola lady is gonna send me to an early grave.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I slouch back onto my pillow, propping the laptop on my raised knees. “But you’re lucky I love you. And lucky I have to be there for my dad, too, or I’d ditch out on you and this hippie granola ladyso fast.”
“Nothing like crushing obligation, right?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Despite the truth in his words, Adrian’s gallows humor cheers me up a little. “You bringing a date?”
“Babe, I’d beyourdate if you didn’t have to play happy couple with that lying asswipe.”
“Wish you could.”
As it stands, it appears I’ll have to lean harder into this ridiculous scheme with Fletcher—dig deep so I can tolerate at least a few chaste public displays of affection Saturday night. Anything to make sure we’re caught on camera looking like a couple.
“What happened to Casey, though?” I ask, reaching for my tea. “Thought things were heating up between you two.” I take a cautious sip.
He scoffs. “Casey is an overgrown toddler. He’s fun, like a big, sexy puppy, but… not the black-tie fundraiser type. Even if he would look cute as fuck in a tux.”
