Jon-Michael tossed his key ring into the abalone shell on the Stickley table. Two days ago he would have sung out at the top of his lungs, "Lucy, I'm hooome," ala Desi Arnez. Then again, two days ago everybody's lives had not been turned inside out. He held his silence and took the stairs to the loft two at a time.
"Petunia?" he said softly, cresting the top stair. "I'm back."
The room was empty.
"Hayley?" Anxiety clutched at the pit of his stomach. It was too quiet; he knew without checking further she wasn’t here.
Swearing softly, he strode to the closet. Ripping the door open, he stood listening to his own breath saw in and out of his lungs as he stared in numb surprise at her clothing. He had expected the rod to be empty, but her stuff was right where it had been this afternoon.
He found her panties and the T-shirt of his she’d worn for the past two days in the bathroom hamper. Her make-up was still scattered across the counter. He sank down onto the closed toilet seat and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. Okay, good. She wasn’t gone forever. She had merely gone out for a while.
He blew out a breath. She’d be back. If not by the time he had to go to work, then surely by the time he got home again.
When Hayley found Kurstin's car in the garage but no Kurstin in the mansion, she walked down to the lake. She saw her friend, still in her upscale work clothes, sitting on the end of the dock.
Hayley stepped onto the boards then stopped, staring uncertainly at her friend's back. Overwhelmed by a barrage of turbulent emotion, she stood for a moment trying to figure out how to deal with them. Nothing helpful sprang to mind and conceding defeat, she pressed two fingers to her throat and softly cleared it.
Kurstin's head snapped around. Seeing Hayley, she scrambled to her feet. "Uh, hi," she said, then hummed a kind of non-word. It made her feel like an ass and self-consciously she tucked her blouse into the waistband of her linen skirt, smoothed out the wrinkles creasing the fabric over her lap. Unable to sustain eye contact, she looked away to gaze blindly out at the lake. She felt disheveled and—for the first time in her life—awkward in Hayley's presence. She bent to pluck her suit jacket off the dock, but after straightening once again she simply folded it over her arm and hugged it to her stomach. She took a deep breath, softly expelled it and stiffened her spine. Then turned back to face her best friend once again.
For a moment they simply looked at each other. Then Hayley gestured awkwardly toward the mansion. "Um, no one was home up there."
"No," Kurstin agreed. "Ruth left for the day and Dad—well, who knows where he is?"
“I am so mad at you," Hayley said in a rush, her voice low and fierce.
She nodded. "I know."
"I don’t have the first idea how to deal with all this fury. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You’re the one person I thought I could count on forever and you...dammit, you—"
"Betrayed you."
"Yes." Hayley held herself so rigidly she looked like a stiff breeze could snap her up and sent her scudding across the lake. "You turned my innermost insecurities into a public spectacle. I’m open game now, Kurstie, vulture bait. I cannot sneeze without someone wanting to report it on the news. God, how could you do that to me?"
"I don't know. I—" Kurstin looked at her friend standing in front of her with her fists clenched and anguish in her eyes. Tears welled in her own but she blinked them back. "It just happened, Hayley—I didn't plan it. If I could take those few minutes back, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I swear I would."
"I think I knew that all along." Hayley blew out an obviously frustrated breath but lost a little of the rigidity keeping her spine rebar-straight. She subjected Kurstin to an intense once-over. "And I truly am sorry about Ty. What he did to you... Well, that just stinks."
Dammit! Kurstin could deal with Hayley's anger. It might break her heart but she could handle it. Her friend's sympathy, however, just did her in. Forcing composure in her voice, she said, "Yes, well, shit happens."
To her dismay her control failed her in the middle of the last word and her voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old boy's. The tears she had been holding back by will alone rose in a rush, cresting her eyelids and overflowing. She whirled away, presenting Hayley with her back.
"Oh, sweetie." Hayley's warm hands turned her back around and pulled her into a hug. "Don't go thinking this means my mad-on at you is over," she warned gruffly. But she hugged Kurstin tightly and stroked her hair with a gentle hand. "Still, the guy is an idiot," she growled. "You deserve so much better."
Kurstin sobs grew audible. "I don't want better," she protested disconsolately. "I w-want Ty." She stiffened. "No! I do not mean that," she protested, pulling out of Hayley's arms. She sniffed inelegantly and knuckled her eyes. Her chin went up, wobbly but proud. "I wouldn't take him back on a bet."
"Uh-huh. Who are you hoping to convince here, Blondie, me or you? If Patsy hadn't gotten Bigmouth Holloway out of town, you’d probably take him back in a heartbeat."
Kurstin's heart clenched in anguish at the knowledge that he was well and truly gone, but she nevertheless protested, "I really wouldn’t. I have more pride than that."
Hayley made a rude noise. She dug a folded tissue out of her jeans pocket and handed it over. "Here. Blow your nose. And face facts, Kurst. Life isn’t a Ranch romance where the spunky heroine gets to do the cool thing that brings the hero to his knees. We are idiots for men. I hate to say it, but it's true. They make our lives a misery, but do we boot their sorry butts to the curb?"
Kurstin was pretty sure the despondency on her face said she couldn’t disagree, but Hayley went on as if she had. "No, we do not. Admit it. We welcome them back with open arms so the misery can live on. I think the best we can hope for is to make 'em pay a little first." She kicked off her sandals, unsnapped her jeans, and slid down the zipper.
"Look at you!" she fussed, kicking off her pants. "You look like Bernice the Bag Lady. Slide out of those nylons, girl. There must be a half dozen runs in them. Hasn’t anyone told you pantyhose are passé?"
“Dad insists I wear them at the office,” she mumbled.
“And since when have you taken Richard’s fashion advice? Rip ‘em off. You have a certain image for elegance in this little backwater burg, which, I gotta tell you, at the moment you’re doing a piss poor job of upholding.”
Hayley sat down on the edge of the dock and dangled her bare legs over the side, lazily swishing her feet back and forth in the cool water of the lake. When a moment passed without activity from her friend, she glanced over her shoulder. "Well, come on, hop to it," she said briskly. "Jeesh. You’d think nobody ever taught you to change out of your good clothes before going outside to play."
Kurstin ripped off her pantyhose, hiked up her skirt, and sat down next to Hayley on the end of the dock. She swiped both cheeks with her hands, wiping away her tears. "Why are you being so nice to me? I thought you were supposed to be furious."
"Yeah, well, I am. I didn’t say all is forgiven, Kurstin Elise, so don't go believing it is. But it occurred to me that if I write you off totally as my very best friend, that leaves me with...Patsy."