and hugging her back. “I heard you’re late.”
Carrie grinned at her, then turned to Andi and hugged her. “I know, I know,” the teen said cheerfully. “I need to get up earlier. See you guys later.”
With that, she was flying toward the front door.
When Andi had moved to the island, she’d bought the large Queen Anne that now housed her practice. She and her contractor, Wade, had fallen in love. Carrie had been a bonus, settling into her new life as a stepdaughter.
The front door slammed. Andi sighed. “I need to have Wade check the hinges. One day she’s going to pull that door out of the frame.”
“I think it’s a little sturdier than that.”
Andi glanced at the clock. “Nearly showtime. Are we still on for Pilates after work?”
“I have my stuff in the car.”
“Great.”
With that they went into the hall. Andi turned toward her office, while Nina went up front to make sure the computers had booted up correctly. Out the window she saw Carrie climbing into the SUV next door. Deanna, Andi’s neighbor, took her girls to school every morning, and Carrie joined them.
Shared responsibilities, Nina thought. Balance. She understood the concept, even if she didn’t get to practice it much. Maybe in her next life she wouldn’t be the one who had to hold it all together.
* * *
“Point your toes, Andi. A little higher, Nina. Now slowly roll back down and breathe.”
Nina collapsed back on the mat. The way her stomach muscles were protesting, a slow roll to the starting position wasn’t an option. She was hot and sweaty and knew she was going to be sore in the morning. Had it really been that long since her last Pilates class?
She placed her hand on her rib cage and told herself that layer between her skin and the bones was necessary padding. Or maybe she should start walking on her lunch hour. The weather was going to get nice in the next few weeks. She could take advantage of that. Become fit over the summer.
She rolled to her side and struggled to her feet. Andi was already up and smiling, as if the class hadn’t been difficult at all. Nina gasped for breath as she finally gained her balance.
The workout room had an entire wall of mirrors. She made the mistake of turning sideways, taking in both her butt and her stomach. It seemed that extra ten pounds she’d been carrying since puberty had morphed into fifteen. She thought of the last of the brownies she’d consumed the previous night and vowed not to replace them. And she would start coming to mat class twice a week for sure.
Too weak and sore to change back into street clothes, she shoved her bare feet into her sensible, white athletic shoes and shuffled to the parking lot. Andi walked with her, practically bouncing with extra energy.
“I’m feeling so much better,” her friend said. “I’m glad that trimester is over. Now I have my energy back, and I’m eating. I love being pregnant.”
“You look great,” Nina murmured, trying not to sound surly. It wasn’t Andi’s fault that she was tall and thin and beautiful. Even with a baby on the way, her stomach was still flatter than Nina’s. Talk about unfair.
“And I’m sorry I guilted you into coming to Pilates with me today.”
“No, you’re not.”
Andi grinned as she paused by her SUV. “No, I’m not. Thursday?”
“I’ll be here.”
Nina got into her car, grateful to have it back from the auto repair shop. One fuel injector doodad later, her wheels were running and her checkbook was lighter. Not her favorite kind of compromise, but stuff happened and Mike had to earn a living, too.
She started the engine and thought longingly of heading home. Only she’d just hired Cindy and she needed to check on her progress.
She drove down to the main road that circled the island, then turned left. As she sped north, she saw a familiar BMW coming in the other direction. Dylan.
She thought of how she looked—hot and sweaty and not in a sexy kind of way. Her workout clothes weren’t the least bit flattering, and she was pretty sure she smelled. But it turned out not to be an issue. Dylan simply gave her a wave and kept on going. The truth was clear. Whether or not he was single, he sure wasn’t interested in her.
Something she could live with, she told herself. It wasn’t that she desperately wanted to spend time with him. She supposed the deep-in-her-heart fantasy was that he would come crawling back, so she could dump him as heartlessly as he’d dumped her. Not mature, but at least somewhat honest.
She turned into the parking lot by Blackberry Preserves. Cindy’s was the only car there. Nina walked over the gravel and went into the store.
The first thing she noticed was the light. There was a lot more of it. Also, the air was fresher, without that heavy stuffiness that seemed to cover everything like mold. Prince’s “Kiss” blasted from an iPod plugged into portable speakers. Cindy was up on a ladder, a microfiber duster in one hand. As Nina watched, she expertly swirled the cloth around the crystals dangling from the chandelier.
Rather than call out and startle her new employee, Nina walked to the speakers and slowly turned down the music. Cindy glanced over and grinned.
“Yes, I love Prince. I admit it.” She scrambled down the ladder. “How’s it going?”
“Good. This is impressive,” Nina said as she looked around. “The store looks great.”
“I took down the drapes,” Cindy admitted. “They were blocking the light and more than a little dusty. There were some very suspicious holes in them. I folded them up into a box, in case you want to keep them, but I think they should be tossed.”
“Not a problem. Toss away.”
Cindy had pulled her dark hair back with a headband, and she wore jeans and a sweater rather than her stylish interview clothes. Still, she managed to look put together and elegant. Nina thought maybe years of wearing scrubs had squashed her fashion gene, assuming she’d ever had one in the first place. Her appearance had never much mattered to her. If she was clean, she was happy. Growing up, she’d never had time to pore over fashion magazines or worry about what was in style. Now she wondered if she’d missed her chance.
Cindy pointed to the chandelier overhead. “I’ve been doing research. From what I can tell, that bad boy is Italian and maybe three hundred years old. If I’m right, it’s worth about ten thousand dollars.”
Nina felt her mouth drop open. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”
Cindy grinned. “Yup. Ten thousand. I could be wrong, of course. I was thinking of making a list of what could be high-end pieces, then talking to you about having a professional come up from Seattle and appraise them.”
Nina stared up at the crystals and shook her head. “I doubt my mom paid more than twenty bucks for that. She’s not a big spender when it comes to inventory.”
“She
