Bridget sets a hand on my shoulder. “What Ripley means istell us every dirty detail.”
“Yes, and leave nothing out,” Chloe adds.
Esmeralda leans in, tips her forehead to the door, and says, “There was a tour group trying to get in before I even opened. Some local guide from the city is offering tours of Darling Springs.A Hollywood hot spot,” she says.
“Oh, wow. Already?” I ask.
“Evidently. With the book having been such a hit, the new game is guessing which local spots represent which places from the book. But that’s not even the big news.” She leans closer. “I heard today the male lead was recast. Now, Chris Carlisle is playing him.”
“The… New Chris?” I ask, a little starstruck. Haven didn’t mention this—and surely she’d have mentioned the sexy superstar who pretty much guarantees box office success. He’s theitguy in Hollywood these days afterBangable, his sleeper rom-com hit, became a global phenom last year thanks to word of mouth and word of abs. Chris’s, of course.
“And if you see me wearing more makeup when he arrives, you’ll know why,” Esmeralda says, then pantomimes fishing and reeling in a big one. When she catches the imaginary fish—it’s gotta be fifty pounds at least—she nods to a group of new customers who just grabbed stools. “I’ll catch you chickies later.”
I turn to my friends. “Chris Carlisle?”
“I’m asking Haven right now!” Chloe taps out a text message, since she was friends with Haven when we were in school too. But Haven doesn’t reply right away, and all they find on the internet are rumors, so we table the hunt, lifting our drinks instead and toasting.
“Here’s to prepping a farmhouse, a farm, and a cottage for a whole damn crew,” Bridget says to me.
Chloe lifts her glass too. “That was an impressive feat, Mrs. Fix It. Even for you.”
I blow on my nails, unpolished. I borrowed Chloe’s polish remover the day after I returned from San Francisco and scrubbed that color right off, going back to me as quickly as I could. As I take a drink, I think of Grandma and her dreams, the ones she set aside when our parents died. I think of my sister and her hopes. The oneI feared she’d never realize during those dark days when she was younger. When I made it my mission to look out for her. Always. To fix whatever I could for her since I could never fix the hole in her heart from losing our mom and dad.
Finally, their dreams are close to coming true.
That night as I crawl into bed next to Hudson, a message blinks up on my phone. Finally, it’s Haven. I click it open instantly.
Haven: I was doing some interviews for Vanity Fair about the new guard in Hollywood. Is this my life?
Ripley: Yes, and you’re the new guard!
Haven: THIS IS SO WEIRD! And Yes, New Chris is on the movie, and I’m trying not to freak out. The producers want to make some last-minute changes.
My stomach sinks. Are they recasting her? I don’t even want to touch that, but I have to.
Ripley: Like what? Everything OK with you?
Haven: I’m great! And they’re just adding a few more people. I’ll call you tomorrow. But don’t worry.
That sounds ominous, but I tell myself not to let it bother me. I’m not sure I listen though.
7
A STANDARD RAISER
BANKS
With my jaw ticking tightly like the clock as it moves closer to the inevitable, I thumb through a shelf in the etiquette section at An Open Book in San Francisco on a Thursday morning. My notorious nerves of steel feel like they’re made of spaghetti as I think about seeing her again. There’s got to be a book here to help me. I scan for something,anything, to guide me through this terrible mess I haven’t figured out how to undo for the last twenty-six days. As I’m searching futilely, a woman with red hair and red glasses comes over to me. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
A do-over? A time machine? A better plan than leaving a fucking letter for a woman I wanted to spend the whole damn night with?
“I’m all good, thanks,” I say, then think the better of it. “Actually, I need a new book for my sister. She likes, um…” I hesitate, thinking about what Emily calls her favorite romances. “A standard raiser?”
The woman smiles. “Haven’t heard that one before. But it’s a good term. Now let’s see.” She rattles off options: “Rom-com? Dark romance? Mafia romance? Romantasy? Billionaire?”
I snap my fingers. “The last one.”
She finds me a book with a black and gold cover, and I grab it, then pick up a celebrity memoir for Mom, and a new Stephen King for me. After I buy them, I take off, heading over the bridge to Sausalito. I’m meeting my mom and sister for a quick lunch before the drive to Darling Springs today where I’ll have to face Haven again. I still have no clue how to handle it. I could ask the ladies in my life, but once we settle in at an outdoor table at a café overlooking Richardson Bay, they’re updating me on the latest in their worlds, so I keep my focus on them. As it should be. Just like my focus was on them when our lives capsized back when I was in high school, thanks to my dad. I don’t want to be like him.Ever.
