week. Then let’s book that hotel on the hill with a view of the Golden Gate. I want to order room service and wake up every morning with your head on my pillow. I promise I’ll make it happen this time.”
This was the third time they’d tried, but Grace didn’t bring that up. Third time was the charm, right? “Clear the date and I’ll arrange everything, just as long as Jilly is doing okay,” she finished.
“She’s damned tough. Your only problem will be keeping her out of the kitchen long enough to get a diagnosis.”
Both of them knew it was no joke. Cooking was the one dream that had kept Jilly afloat during a troubled girlhood and a lonely adulthood.
“We’ll think of something. Maybe Caro, Olivia and I should stage a kitchen intervention,” Grace mused.
“Hey—that’s not a bad idea. Is Olivia finally back from Europe?”
“She got back two days ago.”
“Jilly’s luckier than she knows. Not many people have friends like you three. And I vote for the intervention,” he said gravely. “Life’s too short.” His voice turned hard. “I know how short, honey. So pin her down and make her do the right thing. Meanwhile, we’ll work this out with my job. Just give me a little more time—”
Sirens split the quiet air and Grace heard the swell of urgent voices. “Noah, what did you say?”
“Sorry, honey. Gotta go. The Homeland team just arrived.”
“Okay.” Grace’s heart twisted in her chest, but she kept her voice level. “Be safe.”
She heard shouts and more sirens. She bit down all her questions. “I love you, Noah,” she said hoarsely. “Remember that. Call me when you can.”
But it was too late. He had already gone.
Life was too short, Grace thought. She wasn’t going to let Jilly ruin hers. Suddenly an intervention made perfect sense.
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU LIKE THIS IDEA of Grace’s? You don’t think it’s too drastic?” Caro took a breath and stared up at her friend. “Be honest, Olivia.”
“I’m always honest with you.” Olivia Sullivan paced the room, frowning. Like her two other friends, she was plotting a way to help Jilly redesign her hectic life.
When Grace had first called with a wild intervention plan, the idea had seemed very extreme. But clearly something had to be done.
Caro studied the border of the baby blanket she was knitting. In the crib nearby, her daughter slept, pink-cheeked and contented.
Could her world have been more blessed and filled with magic?
Sure. You could have your husband safe, home beside you, a voice answered coldly.
“Caro, are you listening to me?” Olivia Sullivan sat in a bar of morning sunlight, tan and very elegant in a linen dress and Italian silk scarf. Her hand-knit linen shrug matched her dress perfectly.
“Of course I am.” Caro managed a smile. Clearly this trip had been a good thing. It had been years since Olivia had looked this relaxed. Her months working and studying architecture in Europe had left her glowing. “You always look so elegant, Livie. I swear if you weren’t my oldest friend, I’d have to hate you.”
“Hardly.” Olivia ran a hand over Caro’s unfinished blanket. “You’re the radiant one. When you pick up the baby, you actually glow. Someday … well, I want to look like that, too.”
“You will.” Caro squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “But you should see me at 3:00 a.m. when I have spit-up on my robe. Not a pretty sight.”
“If anyone could carry it off, it’s you. And you and Gage are so great together. At the wedding it was almost as if you could read each other’s thoughts. I loved watching you two.” Olivia frowned. “I know it must be hard without him. I’ll babysit or shop or do laundry. You name it.”
“I may take you up on that. But now I want to hear about Europe. You went everywhere you planned? Florence. Paris. Tuscany, too?”
“I did. It was amazing.” Olivia gave a rueful smile. “Great food, but I gained ten pounds.”
“You could stand to gain ten more,” Caro said, feeling just a little envious. “So what’s in your bag? You keep looking at something.”
Olivia dug in her purse and set a plastic container on the table. It was a model Caro had used herself. “Well, well. You’ve been busy over there in Europe.”
Olivia flushed.
“Is there something I’m missing here?”
“Probably.”
“So is that a used diaphragm?”
Olivia turned the plastic container slowly. “Almost. Very, very close.”
“Anyone I know?”
Olivia shook her head. “He was nice and smart and gorgeous. A painter from Paris.”
“So what happened?”
“That happened.” Olivia glared at the plastic. “Everything was gorgeous—a quiet country inn. Linen sheets and moonlight spilling through the windows. He didn’t push me, Caro. I wanted to sleep with him. I told him to wait a few minutes and then—then I couldn’t get that devil’s tool inserted. I finally gave up. We had a fight and ended up driving home in total silence. Not a word the whole trip. It was beyond horrible.”
Caro frowned. She could see Olivia was still hurting from the encounter. “I’m sorry to hear it, Livie. They can be tricky.”
“I felt like such a fool.” Olivia glared down at her teacup. “I refuse to feel so humiliated ever again.”
Caro had a sudden memory of Olivia at fifteen, putting on panty hose and trying not to be flustered for her first date. Her father, Summer Island’s mayor and most powerful public figure, had been very strict, criticizing every move his daughter made. Over the years Olivia had never been smart enough or thin enough or popular enough for her father. He never hid the fact that he had wanted a son to groom for his real estate investment business.
In his eyes women were meant to stay at home and keep the house clean, anticipating their husband’s whims. Women were not meant to be CEOs or senators or physicists.
Caro almost never cursed, but she thought a bad word loud and clear. She had said quite a few of them when Olivia’s parents had separated and her father blazed off to become a high-profile mover and shaker in Seattle with a different nubile model on his arm every night.
Good riddance, Caro thought. He wouldn’t be around to dig away at his daughter’s confidence anymore. Olivia could finally find her feet. The time in Italy and France appeared to have done her a world of good. She looked calm and collected.
Caro wondered if the appearance was only skin-deep.
“Pour
