The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (4 page)

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Authors: Elena Aitken

Tags: #women's fiction box set, #family saga, #holiday romance, #romance box set, #coming of age, #sweet romance box set, #contemporary women's fiction, #box set, #breast cancer, #vacation romance, #diabetes

BOOK: The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection)
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Chapter 2

Kind of girl that makes a man go crazy

Kind of woman you just don’t forget

You’re the lady makin’ all the boys heads turn

And in case you haven’t heard it yet

Best thing about you girl is this

You don’t even know you’re doin’ it.

The lyrics popped into Reid’s head as he walked through the parking lot. Before he forgot them, he put down his keyboard in the middle of the parking lot and pulled the ever-present notebook out of his back pocket to scribble them down. He never knew when inspiration would hit, but he did know enough not to ignore it when it did.

When he’d finished, he stuffed the notebook back into his pocket, and humming what could be the chorus to a new song, hurried to the car.
 
He secured his keyboard into the back seat and slammed the door shut before looking back to Blissful Orchards. He’d been leading the sing-a-long once a week for almost six months, but without a doubt, that had been the most interesting session. And not because Hilda had finally convinced George to take a ride on her walker during “You Are My Sunshine.” Whitney Monroe may just be the most interesting woman he’d met in a very long time. Not to mention gorgeous. Even better, she was beautiful in that casual ponytail and t-shirt kind of way that meant she had no idea how stunning she really was.
 

He slid into the front seat and turned the ignition. A guy could get into trouble with a woman like her, he thought. And then just as quickly as the thought came into his head, he laughed it away. He wasn’t going to get in trouble with her, or anything else for that matter; she’d made it clear that she didn’t date musicians and despite the flirting vibes he’d felt from her, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to start anything with Whitney Monroe anyway. Not if they were going to be roommates.
 

He pulled out of the parking lot and shook his head. Obviously Hazel hadn’t mentioned anything to her granddaughter yet, and he couldn’t be sure how Whitney was going to react. If he had to guess though, she didn’t seem the type that would appreciate having such major information dumped on her without warning. But that wasn’t his fault. Hazel told him she would take care of things on her end.

And hopefully she would since he’d already told his landlord he’d be out at the end of the month, and that was tomorrow. Up until a week ago, Reid didn’t know where he was going to go. Meeting Hazel had come at exactly the right time. She was a sweet lady, and she reminded him of his own grandma, which was the entire reason he spent his Thursday afternoons singing the Golden Oldies. And just like Grandma used to say, “Things had a way of working out if you let them.”
 

Grandma had almost always been right, and damn, Reid hoped that would continue to be the case. He couldn’t afford for things not to be okay, not since he’d quit the agency to go solo. Writing commercial jingles freelance wasn’t a bad deal. Especially since he had more time to work on song writing. But things never worked out the way he’d planned them and when Lizzy, his little sister, had called in tears three weeks ago, he knew what he had to do, even if it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Family came first. No matter what.
 

Reid tried to clear his thoughts as he drove the few minutes to his apartment. “What the hell?” he said, as he pulled into his space. Tom, Reid’s landlord, was standing on the sidewalk with a few boxes stacked behind him. Next to him was a suitcase that looked familiar.

He jammed the car into park and flung open the door. “Tom, what the hell? Is that my stuff?”

Tom pushed his glasses up his long, narrow nose and sniffed. “You said you were moving out,” he said. “You gave notice.”

“For the first. It’s the thirtieth. I have one more day.” Reid looked up and down the sidewalk, looking for the rest of his things. “You can’t just haul my shit out to the curb.”

Tom sniffed again and crossed his arms. “I was hoping you’d leave early.”

“Early?”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks.”
 

“To leave early? What are you talking about?”

Tom peered from side to side and leaned in as if he had a big secret to let Reid in on. “I know about your sister,” he said. His breath was foul and Reid had to force himself not to pull back. “You need the money. Take it.”

Reid looked at the fifty dollar bill wadded up in Tom’s sweaty hand.

“I have nowhere to go.”

“I’ll give you another fifty to keep your furniture.”
 

“Fifty? For all my furniture?” He tried to sound outraged, but even Reid knew his old thrift store stuff wasn’t worth a whole lot more than fifty dollars on a good day.

Tom didn’t respond, only added another few bills to his hand and thrust it toward Reid again.
 

One hundred dollars wouldn’t normally be a lot of money for him. Even as recently as a month ago, Reid would have laughed in the weaselly man’s face and rejected his offer for what it was, an insult. His underarms felt damp and his t-shirt stuck to him, even in the cool September air. He felt his gorge rise and hated himself when he reached out to grab the money.

Instead of releasing the bills, Tom held tight, met Reid’s eyes and said, “I knew we’d have a deal.”

Reid tugged the money free and pushed it into his pocket.
 

“Sucks about your sister,” Tom added.
 

Reid clenched his hands into fists, stared him in the eye and took a deep breath before getting into his car and squealing out of the parking lot. He wasn’t worth it.

***

“What do you need to talk to me about, Grams?” I flopped down on her bed and grabbed one of her many throw pillows to fidget with. “Did you hear from the doctor already?”

After the sing-a-long, and the subsequent coffee and chat time with all of Grams’ new friends, I’d finally managed to get her alone and back in her room. She settled into her easy chair, grabbed her knitting bag and immediately started clicking the needles together. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. And I knew it wasn’t because she had to concentrate on her knitting. She could do that in her sleep. It had to be bad.
 

“You did, didn’t you?” Fear rippled through me and I sat up, bracing myself for the worst. “Did the test results—”

“Oh stop.” Her needles paused. “You worry too much for a young person. My appointment is later this week. You know that. You did say you’d take me.”

“And I will.” Tension flowed from my body. I flipped over and settled onto my stomach so I could watch her. “But you said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Can’t I talk about anything besides my health?” She gave me a pointed stare but I could she was trying to look stern. “There’s more to life besides dying, you know?” she added.

“I know, I know.” I picked at the fringe on the pillow. “Well then what did you want to talk to me about?”
 

Satisfied, Grams turned back to her project. “I thought we should talk about the house. It’s an awfully big place for you alone now that I’m here.”

I clutched the pillow tightly. “You can’t sell the house.” It was my home; I grew up there. And besides that, I could barely afford to live there. I’d never afford anything else.
 

“I wasn’t going to suggest we sell it. But that big old place is too expensive to keep on your own. Especially since we have the added cost of my rent here.”

The mortgage payments were hefty, especially since she’d refinanced a few years back to help me with my tuition payments. But there was something in her voice that had my attention. I waited and after a few moments of silence, she said, “I think you should get a roommate. I don’t want you to worry.”

“I’m not worried.” I sat up and shoved the pillow behind me because I was worried, but not about making the monthly mortgage payments. I didn’t like the tone in her voice. She was up to something. “I’ve been subbing pretty regularly,” I said. “And I applied to be considered for a contract position at Glenmore Academy. If I get it, I won’t have to worry at all.”

She gave me the look that told me without any doubt that she didn’t believe me. We both knew I could barely make the payments. What she didn’t know was I’d dipped into my line of credit a few times too. Some things Grams didn’t need to know.

“Well, I am worried,” Grams said. “It’s too much stress for a young woman to bear on her own and besides that, it’s not good for you to spend so much time alone.”

Something was definitely up. I tipped my head and watched her, but she didn’t take her eyes off her knitting. “Okay, what’s going on?”
 

“I told you,” she said, “you need a roommate.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “And that will make you happy?” Sometimes it was just easier to give in.

“It would.”

“Fine. I’ll get a roommate,” I said. It probably wasn’t such a bad idea really. I glanced at my watch and pushed up from the bed. “I have to get going, but I’ll put up an ad at the grocery store tomorrow.”

Grams stopped mid-knit and looked at me in horror. “Not the grocery store. You can’t live with a perfect stranger.”

I looked down so she wouldn’t see my smile. She’d see what a terrible idea a roommate was in no time. “Then what would you suggest, Grams? I don’t have any friends who need a place to live, so—”

“I do.”

My head jerked up, my mouth open. “You do?”
 

“Yes,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Reid.”

I swallowed hard to keep from laughing. “The keyboard player?”

“He’s a nice young man.”

“He’s a stranger,” I said. “And didn’t you just finish saying I couldn’t live with a perfect stranger?” There was no way I was going to be roommates with a man. Particularly a very good-looking, totally cocky, probably flaky, and full of himself and completely unreliable musician-type of man. No way.
 

Grams stuck her needles together and put them in her lap. “He is not a stranger. He’s Reid.”

“Reid. The stranger.” I dropped my purse and plopped down on the bed again. It was clear I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

“Whitney,” Grams said in her “you’re being ridiculous” voice. “I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Reid every Thursday for the last five months and he’s been singing here long before I came along. Besides that, he’s a perfectly respectable young man who happens to need a place to live. And I happen to have a place for him to live.”

“Yeah, my house,” I muttered under my breath.
 

“You mean, my house,” Grams said. Damn her crazy good hearing. “It’s still my house, Whitney. I know right now you’re paying the bills, but I think it’s a good thing for you to have a roommate.”

I looked her in the eyes and that’s when I knew. “You already told him he could move in, didn’t you?”

Grams smiled and nodded. “He’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” My mouth fell open and I couldn’t help but look at my sweet, elderly grandmother who most certainly was losing her mind on top of everything else. I’d have to make a note to talk to her doctor about her mental faculties. “Grams. This isn’t okay.”

She nodded and I’m sure if I’d been sitting any closer, she would have patted my head like a puppy. “Of course it’s going to be okay, dear.”

If there was one thing I knew about Grams, it was that once she’d agreed to something, she wasn’t going to change her mind. She hated wishy-washy people. I lay down and stared at the ceiling, trying in vain to think of any way to get out of what was obviously not an ideal situation.
 

“Whitney, don’t pout,” Grams said from her chair. “Reid’s a nice boy. It’ll be fun.”

Fun? She didn’t really just say that? Living with a strange man would be anything but
fun
. I’d never shared my space with a man before, not even William.

William.
 

Crap.
 

I pushed up to a sitting position again and narrowed my eyes at Grams, who was the picture of grandmotherly sweetness with her perfectly permed white hair and a lap full of yarn. She couldn’t fool me.

“Grams?” I spoke slowly and watched for her reaction. “Does Reid moving in have anything to do with the fact that you don’t like William?”

“William?” She tipped her head and met my gaze. “Remind me again—”

“My boyfriend, Grams. You’ve met him a dozen times. We had dinner a few weeks ago. He brought you flowers.”
 

She raised her eyebrows and brought her hand to her chest. “Oh. Yes. William. He brought me daisies. I really prefer carnations,” Grams mused. “He teaches at that school you work at, doesn’t he?”
 

I had to give it to her. Her acting skills weren’t rusty at all.
 

“Right. William. My boyfriend,” I said. “Did you think at all about what he’s going to say when he finds out I’m going to be living with another man?”

“Do you think he’ll mind?”
 

Almost for sure, I thought.

***

I was saved from any further discussion about the whole roommate issue because Grams wanted to attend afternoon tea. So far, from what I could figure, Blissful Orchards had an ongoing schedule that revolved almost completely around eating. And since I had no desire to drink weak tea and eat digestive cookies, I begged off. Besides, I needed to figure out exactly what I was going to do about having a strange man move into my house. An incredibly attractive man, I couldn’t help the thought. I mean, I might be in a relationship, but I wasn’t blind. And he probably wasn’t all that strange, I reasoned. After all, if Grams liked him, he must be a pretty solid guy. Grams wasn’t known for straying too far from the straight and narrow. She never used to be, anyway. She’d definitely come out of her reserved and proper shell since moving into Blissful Orchards. Maybe it was something they put in the tea.

There was no point dwelling on it, anyway. I needed to hit the grocery store on the way home. William and I had dinner plans and while I was pretty sure he intended to take me to the same Italian restaurant he always took me to, I wanted something different. A girl could only eat so much pasta. Besides maybe a home-cooked meal would soften the blow when I told him about my changing living arrangements. Despite my earlier plans, I’d already decided not to tell him the truth about my mom. Too many shocks in one night probably wasn’t a good idea.

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