Cooper Haynes. Vicky was right. He was downright handsome. Looked even better than in high school. Broad shoulders. Fit. His dark hair, tossed a bit by the breeze, was a little longer than the clipped cut she remembered. He wore jeans and a white shirt and a black windbreaker. His eyes were blue, she knew from memory, and his long strides ate up the ground between them as he approached Marissa, who was waving madly.
“That’s your dad?” Harley asked.
“Well, my stepdad, but I call him my dad. I took his name.”
“You can do that?” asked Harley.
“I just use it. It’s not in my permanent record.”
Jamie was only half-listening as she watched Cooper approach. She looked at him, and looked away, and looked at him again, feeling like she was the one in high school.
“Hi,” Cooper said as he neared.
“Hi,” Jamie said as recognition slipped across his expression.
“Jessie . . . ?” he asked.
“Jamie. Whelan.”
“Sorry, yes. Emma’s sister, right?” He held out his hand.
She offered hers and felt him squeeze her fingers. A surf roared in her ears.
Jesus Christ, Jamie. Get a grip!
“I’m Cooper Haynes. Don’t know if you remember me.” He smiled, and laugh lines formed at the corners of his eyes.
“You know each other?” Marissa asked, delighted.
“We went to school together,” Jamie said. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
“You know Aunt Emma?” Harley asked him curiously.
“We were classmates.” The smile slowly disappeared.
“I’m Harley Woodward,” she said, thrusting out her hand. Cooper shook her hand, too.
“My daughter,” said Jamie, desperately trying to act nonchalant. “Emma’s niece.”
“Harley and I are going to the mixer together tonight, right?” Marissa turned to Harley, who nodded and shrugged, like, why not?
“Want us to pick you up?” Marissa asked, and then the conversation went on around Jamie, plans being discussed, decisions made, a flurry of information that ended with Harley looking at Jamie for their address. Jamie gave it woodenly. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.
Fifteen minutes later, they were pulling into the drive and Harley was suddenly bright-eyed and eager about the evening ahead. She chattered on about her day without being prompted. Clearly, Marissa had eased her fears about being the new girl by inviting her into their group of friends, who appeared to be welcoming. Harley mentioned a girl named Lena and another called Katie. “I don’t think it’s the most popular group,” Harley revealed. “For the seniors I think that’s Tyler and some other guys, and a girl named Dara and another, Michaela, and a few more.”
“Oh, good.”
“Marissa’s great.”
“I’m glad. I hear Dara’s dating Tyler,” Jamie said.
She got the reaction she’d expected when Harley whipped around in the passenger seat to gaze at her in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“Oh, it’s all over the school.”
“But how do you know that?”
“I’m clairvoyant?”
“Mom! Oh. Tyler’s mom told you.”
“Alas, my powers of detection have been found out,” Jamie said on an exaggerated sigh as they pulled into the driveway.
Harley shook her head, as if she didn’t know what to do with Jamie. They climbed out of their respective doors and Harley glanced back at the garage door. “Are you ever going to park in the garage?”
“Mom’s car’s in there. We’ll have to figure that out, too, I suppose. Her Outback might be newer than the Camry.”
“When I turn sixteen, I’ll take the Camry, you take the Outback.”
“We’ll jump off that bridge when we come to it,” Jamie said as she bent down and grabbed the key from under the gnome where it still was kept, opened the door, then put the key back. “I’ve gotta get some keys made and find a better hiding place.” She’d left the key beneath the gnome because it was where Emma could find it.
Baby steps, she reminded herself.
Harley asked as they pushed inside, “So, what’s our plan? I mean . . . am I going to be at this school for a while, or are we going back to LA?”
“I don’t have any idea. Emma needs care . . . she’s really not independent . . .”
“You don’t want to take care of her, do you?”
Jamie gave Harley a hard look as her daughter dumped her backpack on the kitchen table and automatically opened the refrigerator. Harley didn’t notice as she gazed over the meager offerings—Jamie had stopped at the store for basics: milk, cereal, bananas, and coffee—finally choosing a yogurt. “It’s past the pull date,” she said, pulling out the small carton and eyeing it suspiciously.
“How far?”
“Two days.”
“Up to you,” Jamie said.
“Can we go to the store and get something else? Something good?”
“Yes . . .”
“Well, let’s go, then. Marissa’s going to call you, and I want to be ready. And I need a phone. I know, they’re too expensive, but now that we’re at Grandma’s, isn’t that cheaper? Like we don’t have to pay rent?”
“For now, we use my phone.”
“Jesus, I’m the only one without a phone!”
“Oh, you are not. I’d venture to say there’s somebody else at the school without a phone.”
“They all have phones.”
“No, they don’t.”
Harley was heading through the back door again. “I haven’t met anyone without a phone yet.”
“Well, look harder. And don’t swear.”
Chapter Six
Cooper dropped Marissa off at her mother’s house, the house he’d once shared with Laura before their split, the house less than a mile from his parents’, now his own.
He watched as she walked up to the garage, hitching up her backpack as she pressed the numbers on the pin pad to open the door. She lifted a hand to him without turning around. He watched the door lumber upward with a few squeaks and groans—gonna have to check those springs, Haynes, make sure it’s still functioning right—then back down again before he reversed out of the drive.
He and Laura had determined to keep their split as amicable as possible for Marissa’s sake, even though there had been huge fights between them toward the end of their three-year marriage. He’d married Laura for all the wrong reasons, chief among them that it was the time when all the guys he knew were taking that trip down the aisle and Laura was eager to take the same steps. There were other reasons, too . . . chief among them being he’d liked her looks. Then a buddy of his at work, a guy about ten years older than Cooper who’d also graduated from River Glen High, Howie Eversgard, had pointed out to him, “She kinda looks like that girl from the Thrift Shop.” This observation had come about a year into Cooper’s marriage. Howie’s father haunted Theo’s Thrift Shop, as many grandparents did, buying up the gently used discards from some of River Glen’s wealthier families, who gave away