Chapter One
“I should have married money,” Ellen Fox said glumly. “That
would have solved all my problems.”
Unity Leandre, her best friend, practically since birth,
raised her eyebrows. “Because that was an option so many times and you kept
saying no?”
“It could have been. Maybe. If I’d ever, you know, met a
rich guy I liked and wanted to marry.”
“Wouldn’t having him want to marry you be an equally
important part of the equation?”
Ellen groaned. “This is not a good time for logic. This is a
good time for sympathy. Or giving me a winning lottery ticket. We’ve been
friends for years and you’ve never once given me a winning lottery ticket.”
Unity picked up her coffee and smiled. “True, but I did give
you my pony rides when we celebrated our eighth birthdays.”
A point she would have to concede, Ellen thought. With their
birthdays so close together, they’d often had shared parties. The summer they’d
turned eight, Unity’s mom had arranged for pony rides at a nearby farm. Unity
had enjoyed herself, but Ellen had fallen in love with scruffy Mr. Peepers, the
crabby old pony who carried them around the paddock. At Ellen’s declaration of
affection for the pony, Unity had handed over the rest of her ride tickets,
content to watch Ellen on Mr. Peepers’s wide back.
“You were wonderful about the pony rides,” Ellen said
earnestly, “And I love that you were so generous. But right now I really need a
small fortune. Nothing overwhelming. Just a tasteful million or so. In return,
I’ll give back the rides on Mr. Peepers.”
Unity reached across the kitchen table and touched Ellen’s
arm. “He really wants to go to UCLA?”
Ellen nodded, afraid if she spoke, she would whimper. After
sucking in a breath, she managed to say, “He does. Even with a partial
scholarship, the price is going to kill me.” She braced herself for the ugly
reality. “Out-of-state costs, including room and board, are about sixty-four
thousand dollars.” Ellen felt her heart skip a beat and not out of excitement.
“A year. A year! I don’t even bring home that much after taxes. Who has that
kind of money? It might as well be a million dollars.”
Unity nodded. “Okay, now marrying money makes sense.”
“I don’t have a lot of options.” Ellen pressed her hand to
her chest and told herself she wasn’t having a heart attack. “You know I’d do
anything for Coop and I’ll figure this out, but those numbers are terrifying. I
have to start buying lottery scratchers and get a second job.” She looked at
Unity. “How much do you think they make at Starbucks? I could work nights.”
Unity, five inches taller, with long straight blond hair,
grabbed her hands. “Last month it was University of Oklahoma and the month
before that, he wanted to go to Notre Dame. Cooper has changed his mind a dozen
times. Wait until you go look at colleges this summer and he figures out what
he really wants, then see who offers the best financial aid before you panic.”
Her mouth curved up in a smile. “No offense, Ellen, but I’ve tasted your
coffee. You shouldn’t be working anywhere near a Starbucks.”
“Very funny.” Ellen squeezed her hands. “You’re right. He’s
barely seventeen. He won’t be a senior until September. I have time. And I’m
saving money every month.”
It was how she’d been raised, she thought. To be practical,
to take responsibility. If only her parents had thought to mention marrying for
money.
“After our road trip, he may decide he wants to go to the
University of Washington after all, and that would solve all my problems.”
Not just the money ones, but the loneliness ones, she
thought wistfully. Because after eighteen years of them being a team, her
nearly grown-up baby boy was going to leave her.
“Stop,” Unity said. “You’re getting sad. I can see it.”
“I hate that you know me so well.”
“No, you don’t.”
Ellen sighed. “No, I don’t, but you’re annoying.”
“You’re more annoying.”
They smiled at each other.
Unity stood, all five feet ten of her, and stretched. “I
have to get going. You have young minds to mold and I have a backed-up kitchen
sink to deal with, followed by a gate repair and something with a vacuum. The
message wasn’t clear.” She looked at Ellen. “You going to be okay?”
Ellen nodded. “I’m fine. You’re right. Coop will change his
mind fifteen more times. I’ll wait until it’s a sure thing, then have my
breakdown.”
“See. You always have a plan.”
They walked to the front door. Ellen’s mind slid back to the
ridiculous cost of college.
“Any of those old people you help have money?” she asked.
“For the right price, I could be a trophy wife.”
Unity shook her head. “You’re thirty-four. The average
resident of Silver Pines is in his seventies.”
“Marrying money would still solve all my problems.”
Unity hugged her, hanging on tight for an extra second.
“You’re a freak.”
“I’m a momma bear with a cub.”
“Your cub is six foot three. It’s time to stop worrying.”
“That will never happen.”
“Which is why I love you. Talk later.”
Ellen smiled. “Have a good one. Avoid spiders.”
“Always.”
When Unity had driven away, Ellen returned to the kitchen
where she quickly loaded the dishwasher, then packed her lunch. Cooper had left
before six. He was doing some end-of-school-year fitness challenge. Something
about running and Ellen wasn’t sure what. To be honest, when he went on about
his workouts, it was really hard not to tune him out. Especially when she had
things like tuition to worry about.
“Not anymore today,” she said out loud. She would worry
again in the morning. Unity was right—Cooper was going to keep changing his
mind. Their road trip to look at colleges was only a few weeks away. After that
they would narrow the list and he would start to apply. Only then would she
know the final number and have to figure out how to pay for it.
Until then she had plenty to keep her busy. She was giving
pop quizzes in both fourth and sixth periods and she wanted to update her
year-end tests for her two algebra classes. She needed to buy groceries and put
gas in the car and go by the library to get all her summer reading on the
reserve list.
As she finished her morning routine and drove to the high
school where she taught, Ellen thought about Cooper and the college issue.
While she was afraid she couldn’t afford the tuition, she had to admit it was a
great problem to have. Seventeen years ago, she’d been a terrified teenager,
about to be a single mom, with nothing between her and living on the streets
except incredibly disappointed and angry parents who had been determined to
make her see the error of her ways.
Through hard work and determination, she’d managed to pull
herself together—raise Cooper, go to college, get a good job, buy a duplex and
save money for her kid’s education. Yay her.
But it sure would have been a lot easier if she’d simply
married someone with money.
*
“How is it possible to get a C- in Spanish?” Coach Keith
Kinne asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Half the population in town
speaks Spanish. Hell, your sister’s husband is Hispanic.” He glared at the
strapping football player standing in front of him. “Luka, you’re an idiot.”
Luka hung his head. “Yes, Coach.”
“Don’t ‘yes, Coach’ me. You knew this was happening—you’ve
known for weeks. And did you ask for help? Did you tell me?”
“No, Coach.”
Keith thought about strangling the kid but he wasn’t sure he
could physically wrap his hands around the teen’s thick neck. He swore
silently, knowing they were where they were and now he had to fix things—like
he always did with his students.
“You know the rules,” he pointed out. “To play on any
varsity team you have to get a C+ or better in every class. Did you think the
rules didn’t apply to you?”
Luka, nearly six-five and two hundred and fifty pounds,
slumped even more. “I thought I was doing okay.”
“Really? So you’d been getting better grades on your tests?”
“Not exactly.” He raised his head, his expression miserable.
“I thought I could pull up my grade at the last minute.”
“How did that plan work out?”
“No bueno.”
Keith glared at him. “You think this is funny?”
“No, Coach.”
Keith shook his head. “You know there’s not a Spanish summer
school class. That means we’re going to have to find an alternative.”
Despite his dark skin, Luka went pale. “Coach, don’t send me
away.”
“No one gets sent away.” Sometimes athletes went to other
districts that had a different summer curriculum. They stayed with families and
focused on their studies.
“I need to stay with my family. My mom understands me.”
“It would be better for all of us if she understood
Spanish.” Keith glared at the kid. “I’ll arrange for an online class. You’ll
get a tutor. You will report to me twice a week, bringing me updates until you
pass the class.” He sharpened his gaze. “With an A.”
Luka took a step back. “Coach, no! An A? I can’t.”
“Not with that attitude.”
“But, Coach.”
“You knew the rules and you broke them. You could have come
to me for help early on. You know I’m always here for any of my students, but
did you think about that or did you decide you were fine on your own?”
“I decided I was fine on my own,” Luka mumbled.
“Exactly. And deciding on your own is not how teams work.
You go it alone and you fail.”
Tears filled Luka’s eyes. “Yes, Coach.”
Keith pointed to the door. Luka shuffled out. Keith sank
into his chair. He’d been hard on the kid, but he needed to get the message
across. Grades mattered. He was willing to help whenever he could, but he had
to be told what was going on. He had a feeling Luka thought because he was a
star athlete he was going to get special treatment. Maybe somewhere else, but
not here. Forcing Luka to get an A sent a message to everyone who wanted to
play varsity sports.
He’d barely turned to his computer when one of the freshman
boys stuck his head in the office. “Coach Kinne! Coach Kinne! There’s a girl
crying in the weight room.”
Keith silently groaned as he got up and jogged to the weight
room, hoping he was about to deal with something simple like a broken arm or a
concussion. He knew what to do for those kinds of things. Anything that was
more emotional, honest to God, terrified him.
He walked into the weight room and found a group of guys
huddled together. A petite, dark-haired girl he didn’t know sat on a bench at
the far end, her hands covering her face, her sobs audible in the uneasy
silence.
He looked at the guys. “She hurt?”
They shifted their weight and shook their heads. Damn. So it
wasn’t physical. Why didn’t things ever go his way?
“Any of you responsible for whatever it is?” he asked.
More shaken heads with a couple of guys ducking out.
Keith pointed to the door so the rest of them left, then
returned his attention to the crying girl. She was small and looked young.
Maybe fifteen. Not one of his daughter’s friends or a school athlete—he knew
all of them.
He approached the teen, trying to look friendly rather than
menacing, then sat on a nearby bench.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m Coach Kinne.”
She sniffed. Her eyes were red, her skin pale. “I know who
you are.”
“What’s going on?” Don’t be pregnant, don’t be pregnant, he
chanted silently.
More tears spilled over. “I’m pregnant. The father is Dylan,
only he says he’s not, and I can’t tell my m-mom because she’ll be so mad and
he said he l-loved me.”
And just like that Keith watched his Monday fall directly
into the crapper.
*
Keith left work exactly at three fifteen. He would be
returning to his office to finish up paperwork, supervise a couple of workouts
and review final grades for athletes hovering on the edge of academic problems.
But first, he had pressing personal business.
He drove the two short miles to his house, walked inside and
headed directly for his seventeen-year-old daughter’s room.
Lissa looked up from her laptop when he entered, her smile
fading as she figured out he was in a mood. Despite the attitude, she was a
beauty. Long dark hair, big brown eyes. Dammit all to hell—why couldn’t he have
an ugly daughter who no guy would look at twice?
“Hi, Dad,” she said, sounding wary. “What’s up?”
“Spot check.”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? There is something wrong
with you. I heard what happened at school today. I’m not dumb enough to date a
guy like Dylan who would tell a tree stump he loved it if it would have sex
with him. I’m not sleeping with anyone and I’m not pregnant. I told you—I’m not
ready to have sex, as in I’m still a virgin. You’re obsessed. Would you feel
better if I wore a chastity belt?”
“Yes, but you won’t. I’ve asked.”
“Da-ad. Why are you like this? Pregnancy isn’t the worst
thing that could happen. I could be sick and dying. Wouldn’t that be terrible?”
“You can’t win this argument with logic. I’m irrational. I
accept that. But I’m also the parent, so you have to deal with me being
irrational.”
He pointed to her bathroom. She sighed the long-suffering
sigh of those cursed with impossible fathers and got up. He followed her to the
doorway and watched as she pulled the small plastic container out of the
bathroom drawer and opened it.
Relief eased the tension in his body. Pills were missing.
The right number of pills.
“You are a nightmare father,” his daughter said, shoving the
pills back in the drawer. “I can’t wait until I’m eighteen and I can get the
shot instead of having to take birth control pills. Then you’ll only bug me
every few months.”
“I can’t wait, either.”
“It’s not like I even have a boyfriend.”
“You could be talking to someone online.”
Her annoyance faded as she smiled at him. “Dad, only one of
us in this house does the online dating thing and it’s not me.”
“I don’t online date.”
“Fine. You pick up women online, then go off and have sex
with them for the weekend. It’s gross. You should fall in love with someone
you’re not embarrassed to bring home to meet me.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want complications.”
“But you do want to have sex. It’s yucky.”
“Then why are we talking about it?” He pulled her close and
hugged her, then kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Lissa. I can’t help
worrying about you.”
She looked up at him. “Dad, I’m taking my pills every day,
not that it matters because I’m not having sex. I’m not. I’ve barely kissed a
guy. Having you as my father makes it really difficult to date. Guys don’t want
to mess with you and risk being beat up.”
“Good.”
She smiled even as she hit him in the arm. “You’re
repressing my emotional growth.”
“Just don’t get pregnant.”
“You need to find a more positive message. How about ‘be
your best self?’”
“That, too. Gotta go.”
“I’m having dinner with Jessie tonight. Remember?”
“No problem. Be home by ten.”
He got back in his truck but before starting the engine, he
quickly texted Ellen. I need a couple of beers and a friendly ear. You around
tonight?
The response came quickly. Only if you bring fried chicken.
I have beer and ice cream.
You’re on. See you at six.
Excerpted from The Friendship List by Susan
Mallery, Copyright © 2020 by Susan Mallery, Inc.. Published by HQN.
SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of
novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship and
romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally
believable characters in realistic situations," and readers seem to
agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm,
humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.
Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with
her husband. She's passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the two
Ragdoll cats and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.
