Page 52 of Always Almost You

Lauren bit her lower lip, thinking. The evening of caroling had been magical—unexpected and joyful—but the Christmas Day potluck at Helen’s house had moved her in a way she hadn’t expected. She had been nervous when she and Pumpkin climbed Helen’s front steps. Standing on the porch, she’d almost turned around. But the moment the door opened, a swirl of warmth pulled her in, with laughter, music, the smell of Helen’s freshly cut pine tree, and people greeting her as if she’d always belonged there. Within minutes, the roomful of strangers had felt like chosen family.

She pulled herself back to the present. “I’m trying to decide,” she said thoughtfully, “between caroling with the merchants’ association or the Christmas Day potluck I attended.”

The driver chuckled. “You must be the soprano everyone’s been talking about.”

Lauren flushed.

“My wife is good friends with Helen,” he explained. “She said everyone wants to adopt you. They’re hoping you’ll come back to sing again next year.”

Lauren swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “I promised my sister I’d spend Christmas with her family next year,” she replied. “But I’m very flattered.”

“If things change,” the driver said kindly, “keep us in mind. You’ll always be welcome.”

You’ll always be welcome. The words echoed in Lauren’s mind. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. This was what was missing in Los Angeles. She had Kathy. And a thriving business. But, after her husband died, the larger circle of her life had quietly collapsed. The couples she and her husband once socialized with had drifted away. They hadn’t done it intentionally, just inevitably. Lauren had no partner to complete the pair.

She and Kathy had launched K + L Interiors, and Lauren had thrown herself into the business with relentless focus. The company flourished, and she credited that work with helping her survive the grief. What she hadn’t realized was that something essential had disappeared along the way. These last few days had shown her she craved belonging to a community again.

Hadn’t Kathy been telling her that for months? “You need a hobby,” her sister had also said. “Something you love that isn’t work. Or walking Pumpkin.”

The car climbed onto the bridge leaving Newport Harbor as the winter sun glinted off the steel-gray water of Narragansett Bay. Lauren stroked Pumpkin absently, her fingers moving through the dog’s velvety fur. The weather forecast was clear across the country. With luck, she’d be home in Los Angeles before dinner.

She’d be behind at work, of course. There would be emails, deadlines, and clients waiting for ideas. But she wouldn’t fall back into her old habit of working late every night until she caught up. It was time for something different. Start as you mean to carry on. Wasn’t that what her grandmother always said?

She would go to the office in the morning, and she and Pumpkin would leave by five. Every day. Pumpkin sighed and shifted in her lap. Lauren bent and whispered into her ear, “We’re not staying late at the office anymore. I promise.” She buried her nose in Pumpkin’s warm, doggy-smelling coat. “And I’m going to try new things.”

Lauren sat up straight—as an idea hit her—and pulled out her phone. “Case in point,” she muttered, “I’m going to that New Year’s Eve party Kathy’s friend throws every year. The one I always decline.” She found the Evite in her inbox and scrolled down to the RSVP button. She wasn’t too late. Her thumb hovered for only a moment. Then she tapped Yes. “There,” she said.

Pumpkin lifted her head and yawned.

Lauren smiled. Next year is going to be a happier one, she thought. I loved being married, and I’d love to find a partner again someday. She looked out the window at the winter light stretching across the snow-covered trees along the highway. “But in the meantime,” she whispered, “I’m going to be happy on my own.”

CHAPTER 34

“Okay, Buddy,” Mike said, glancing over his shoulder at the big dog sitting squarely in the middle of the back seat. “I think it’s time for our first rest stop. You’ve been an excellent travel companion, but I’m guessing we both need to stretch our legs.”

Buddy thumped his tail against the seat in agreement.

Mike eased the SUV off the highway into a roadside rest area and parked in front of two low cinderblock buildings that housed the restrooms. The parking lot was half full of passenger vehicles. Four long-haul trucks idled in a separate section across the lot, their diesel engines rumbling softly in the cold morning air. He clipped Buddy’s leash to his collar, and they headed toward a grassy strip behind the restroom buildings. Buddy took care of business immediately, then trotted beside Mike as they circled the perimeter of the area three times.

“My turn,” Mike said, leading Buddy into the men’s room. “Ready to hit the road again?” Mike asked when they emerged.

Buddy turned toward the parking lot. But instead of stopping at their SUV, he tugged the leash forward.

“Hey,” Mike laughed. “Where are you going? That’s not our car.”

Buddy had a destination in mind. He pulled Mike between rows of parked vehicles toward a sedan tucked into the first row nearest the highway. The car looked like it had lived a long, respectable life. It was a faded tan color that might once have been metallic, its paint worn soft by decades of sun and weather. The chrome trim still gleamed faintly where someone had polished it with care. The body was straight but carried the small dents and scratches of years of use. A crocheted blanket lay folded neatly across the back seat, visible through the rear window. The left rear tire, however, was completely flat.

An elderly man and woman stood at the open trunk. The man struggled to lift the spare tire while the woman tried to steady it.

Mike and Buddy jogged toward them. “Here,” Mike called. “Let me help you with that.”

The man looked over his shoulder but didn’t release his grip.

“I’ve got it,” Mike said gently.

The woman stepped aside, and Mike lifted the heavy tire easily from the trunk, setting it against the rear bumper. “Thank you, young man,” she said with relief.

Mike stepped around the car to inspect the problem. “That’s a nasty one,” he said.