Kelly’s phone rang. “Oh, that’s Plumber.” She stepped away. “Hey, brother. What’s up?”
She listened for a moment while Gabby got Lys and Sara coffee, then Kelly said, “We’re at the cottage with Gabby right now.”
Hearing Kelly speak Gabby’s name caught her ear.
“Hang on a second. I’ll get her for you.” Kelly walked over and offered the phone. “Plumber wants to say hi.”
Gabby clasped it from Kelly. Her throat tightened. “Hello.”
“You okay or has the triple threat driven you up the wall already?”
Shadow Watcher. She’d know his voice anywhere. He was Plumber. “I was—”
“Freaking out that they might not be who they said they were. I can imagine you were. And Kelly comes on like gangbusters. Not a subtle gene in her. Sara’s more tranquil. Lys is tough, blunt but fair. I figured you’d have another day before she descended on you with the group of them, but then I remembered this was Kelly. So, I thought I’d better call and put your mind at ease.”
“I appreciate that, and you have.” The man was incredibly thoughtful and kind and so much more. She now had two names for him—Shadow Watcher and Plumber—and she still didn’t know his real name but made a mental note to only refer to him as Plumber to Kelly, Sara and Lys.
“Did you get the package today?”
“Yes. Kelly intercepted the Fed Ex driver and brought it in with her.”
He sighed. “Guess I should be glad she didn’t open it. She didn’t, did she?”
Gabby smiled. “It’s not opened.”
“Wait until they’ve gone. It’s a second phone for just us and some additional paper we dropped so your paper trail didn’t seem sparse when compared to other average people.”
“I will. Thanks for . . . everything.” Smart move, adding to the trail. Nothing stuck out in research so much as the absence of stuff. Every life had stuff.
“Soon.”
See you soon? Talk to you soon? He had to mean they would talk soon. “Soon.”
The line went dead and she passed the phone back to Kelly. “Thank you.”
Lys snagged a mug of coffee and inhaled deeply. “I love the idea for Gabby’s Treasures.”
Kelly had told them. And they were excited. Gabby wasn’t sure what to do with that. “It’s just a dream at this point.”
“Every dream is just a dream at the beginning,” Sara said. “I love special teas, but I’m not crazy about driving into St. Louis to get them. Having them in Christmas Cove would be fabulous. Your shop will fit right in.”
“I hate that drive, too,” Lys chimed in. “Besides, Gabby, every dream is an adventure. What’s not to love about an adventure?” Lys shrugged. “Do you love peppermint soap? I hope you do because I love it. The good kind—real peppermint oil.” She scrunched her mouth into a grimace. “The fake stuff just doesn’t hack it.”
“I’ll make some especially for you, using only the best,” Gabby said, feeling excitement well inside her. Not just about the shop, though there was plenty of that, too. But even more, she was a stranger to dreams and adventures. And to these women. Yet here they sat offering her encouragement and support.
This is what friends did. This is what having friends was like.
It was an alien feeling. A magnificent feeling.
Deeply moved at getting to experience it, Gabby’s eyes blurred.
“Hey, are you okay, Gabby?” Sara looked at her, concern in her expression and her voice.
Gabby nodded, debated on how honest to be, and decided to jump in all the way. “I’m moved. You are all so kind and good and supportive. I’ve never known that.”
Kelly frowned. “Abusers often see to that. They love isolating their victims.”
“I’ve heard that.” Sara sipped at her coffee.
Lys looked hard at Gabby. “So, he isolated you from other people? Friends and everything?”
“I’ve never had friends,” Gabby admitted, choosing her words carefully. “Or, to be honest, everything.”
“Ever?” Lys raised her voice. “Not even when you were a kid?”
“Ever.” Gabby cringed, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but she forced herself to push on. “Sometimes you self-isolate because you don’t want anyone else to know your family secrets.”
Sara started to say something, but Kelly raised a hand, silencing her. “Why not, Gabby?”
Her mouth went dry. This “all in” business was harder than giving up the Mustang. She tried but failed to meet Kelly’s eyes, focused just beyond her shoulder to the wall behind her, but seeing far beyond it and into her past. “Because you’re ashamed.”
“Of what?” Lys asked, claiming Gabby’s gaze. “Glare at me all you want, Kelly. I want to know.”
Gabby took a drink of coffee and set her cup firmly on the bar. “Being unlovable.” Even to her, her voice sounded reed thin and weak.
“That’s crazy, Gabby,” Lys belted out. “You’re beautiful and smart and you make good coffee. I know people who have built friendships on a lot less than that.”
“True.” Sara grunted. “Shoot, I know someone who married on less than that.”
“You don’t,” Kelly said. When Sara nodded, insisting she did, Kelly gasped. “Who?”
“My mother.” Sara bobbed her head. “She said my dad had a nice smile. She married him for his smile.”
“Humph.” Kelly grunted. “You know, I can see that. Your mom has a serious nature. A good smile would be important to her.” Kelly swerved her gaze back to Gabby. “You’re lovable, Gabby, and don’t you believe anyone who tells you different. Ever. It’s a straight up lie.”
“That’s right.” Lys said with an emphatic nod.
“Absolutely.” Sara sniffed, clearly affronted at the notion.
Gabby didn’t know what to say. They barely knew her yet defended her. “Thank you. Seriously.” Her throat went tight. “I’ll, um, try to remember that.”
“No problem.” Lys drained her cup. “If you forget, we’ll remind you.” She made her way to the coffeepot for a refill. “Friends do that.”
Sara grunted. “Friends have to do that, or those old tapes that run in our heads would drive us nuts.”
“True.” Kelly nodded her agreement. “Remember when I went through that phase?”
“Which one?” Lys asked.
“Ugly. I was totally and irredeemably ugly, inside and out.”
“Ugh! Do I ever,” Sara said. “She was a hot mess, Gabby, and clearly there wasn’t a drop of truth in it. But her dad said it, and so she believed it.”
“Dads don’t lie, and they love you,” Kelly said. “Of course, I believed it.”
Sara dipped her chin, slid Kelly a knowing look. “Dads also disapprove of their daughter’s dying their hair green for St. Patrick’s Day and overreact.”
“I think the henna tattoo of a four-leaf clover on your face bothered him more than the green hair,” Lys chimed in. “Honestly, he hated them both. The combination overwhelmed him, and he popped his cork.” She shrugged. “It happens.”