“Who am I kidding?” she muttered, thinking she hadn’t just messed up in San Francisco, she’d screwed up royally. And it’d all been because of a man.
Against her better judgment, she’d hooked up with a guy from work. Before she knew it, he had a set of her keys and she had a carat on her finger. But then the job had gotten in the way. She’d been the acting interim vice president, and when a prized client came their way, she’d let her fiancé talk her into letting him take the account. She’d wanted it, but he claimed to have wanted it more.
Then promotion time came and he was the one given the permanent VP position, not her. She’d thought she was a shoo-in for the job and still wondered if it’d been their CEO’s way of punishing her for having a work relationship. Not that Patrick had gotten in trouble for it. Rather, it was almost like he’d been rewarded instead.
But her fiancé had tried to make it okay for her, kind of. He’d said he needed money to take her on the honeymoon of her dreams. But then the economy busted, and layoffs came, and guess whose name was on the list? Hers.
She got fired, and her fiancé didn’t go to bat for her. That was when she’d begun to doubt whether he’d ever really respected her at all. Professionally, at least. It also marked the end of their engagement.
“No more men. ” She stretched an arm across her chest, tugging at her triceps. “No more screw ups. No do-overs. ” In managing the lodge and tavern, she had a second chance to earn people’s respect, and she was going to get it right. “No third chances. ”
“Don’t tell me the zombie hordes have finally arrived. ” It was Sorrow, heading from the lodge to her shift at the tavern. At Laura’s perplexed look, she clarified, “You’re bathed in sweat, looking like you just outran an angry mob, that’s all. ”
“I went for a run. ”
“Uh-oh. ” Sorrow stopped at the door, peering hard at her. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. ”
“Something happened. Look at you. You’re wearing one of my scrunchies in your hair. If you’re preoccupied enough to wear a scrunchie, the apocalypse truly is nigh. ”
She put a hand to the back of her head. “Am I that predictable?”
“It’s only because I love you. ” Sorrow stepped closer, giving her a bolstering smile. “Now tell old Doc Sorrow what’s up. ”
“I guess I am a little out of it. ”
“A little? I haven’t seen you this sweaty since Chip Merriweather asked that Sandra girl to the prom instead of you. ”
“That Sandra girl was a—”
Sorrow put up a hand, cutting her off. “That Sandra girl had her own problems—and there but for the grace of God go I, as the Kidd ladies would say. ” She added mischievously, “You know you were always cuter, anyway. ”
She smirked—her sister was good medicine.
Sorrow took her arm and steered her toward the door. “Now you need to take a breather. Come in, hang out with me a while. I’ll make you a coffee. ”
“A real one?”
“The coffee we brew is real, dummy. But yes, I’ll make you one of your fancy-shmancy French press coffees. ”
“Okay, okay,” Laura said, sounding more resigned than she felt. A coffee would be good, and some talk, too. This thing with Eddie and the hotel was feeling big, and it was time to confide in her family about it. “We need to talk, anyway. I’ve got news. ”
She’d been putting off telling them about the construction project, hoping she could deal with it herself. Though they’d probably already gotten wind of it—after all, their tavern was ground zero for Sierra Falls gossip. But she was sure they had yet to understand the full extent.
She sat on the kitchen counter, sipping her French press coffee, watching her kid sister work. She’d just finished telling Sorrow the full story, and the girl looked thoughtful as she was systematically chopping veggies and sweeping them into a big soup pot…chopping and sweeping, chopping and sweeping.
“You look so Zen,” Laura told her, “doing what you do. I’m jealous. ”
“You mean because I’m good at chopping onions? Believe me, more than once I’ve regretted how my therapy is cooking and eating. ” She put down her knife. “You want jealous? If I could’ve gotten your genes instead, using running to get my mind off things”—she patted at her waist—“then maybe I wouldn’t have these. ”
Laura had always envied how content her sister seemed with her body. To hear this now was a surprise. “What do you mean…these?”
“You know, love handles. ”
“Doesn’t seem like your sheriff has a single problem with your love handles. ”
Sorrow blushed as a knowing and secret pleasure flashed in her eyes. “I guess you’re right. ”