“It’s nice outside. Let’s go out back.” Where the audio feeds weren’t as clear as Neil liked.
Once outside and seated with their wine, Eliza started in. “OK, Gwen…what’s up?”
“Having…him around isn’t a hardship. It’s a constant reminder that I’ve not had one lover since I moved here. My love life may not have been ideal at home. In fact, it was downright boring after a while, choreographed affairs that usually ended a week after they should have.”
Eliza sipped her wine. “Where did you meet the men you’ve dated?”
“Friends of the family, sons of men my father worked with when he was alive. Boring, predictable. Not once did I have the urge to carry on with any of them.”
“You make it sound like there were a lot.”
“Not that many. These past months I realize how sheltered I’ve been. Living here, although it couldn’t be more different from Albany, is still an extension of that shelter. Eyes are always on me. I’ve even taken to looking over my shoulder lately.”
“That might be your subconscious talking. You’re used to the security of people being around…of cameras and alarms.”
Gwen played with the stem of her glass, chasing the condensation with her manicured nail. “That isn’t real life though, is it?”
“It’s been your life.”
“A sheltered life I don’t need and don’t want.”
Eliza sat forward and lowered her voice. “No one knows more than me what it feels like to have unwanted security guards watching your every move. But you can’t ignore the fact that your brother is titled and very rich. You have a trust fund worth more money than I’ll ever see and there are people out there that wouldn’t think twice about getting to you to get to that money. You want independence. I get that. Lord knows you’re more street-smart now than when you first moved here. But in order to shake off all this security, you’re going to have to prove you can take care of yourself. And not just to your brother and Neil…but to yourself.”
Gwen knew her friend was right. Looking over her shoulder was part insecurity and part paranoia. Both of which made her seek the refuge of her home or even the privacy of her car. If she were ever going to get her own life, and stop riding on that of her brother’s, she’d have to start making some changes.
“You’re right.”
Eliza smiled, satisfied with herself. “So, we have an island wedding to plan.”
“And you’re in charge of the dresses,” Gwen said with a laugh. She’d picked out the yellow bridesmaid gowns they’d worn last year for Blake and Sam’s Texas wedding. Eliza hated them and offered to pick out the dresses for Aruba. Eventually Gwen would get an opportunity to redeem herself. Blake and Samantha repeated their vows every year.
“It’s an island…I’m thinking simple. Beach ceremony. Island food…flowers.”
Gwen thought of the sea gently lapping on the shore and being carried off in the sunset. “Sounds lovely.”
“Good. I’ll pick out the dresses and everything to go with them here and we’ll travel to the island a few days early to finish any details needed. This ceremony is going to be smaller. Samantha wanted only family and close friends.”
“They can’t all be grand.”
“Not when you get married every year.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’d settle for once, thank you very much.”
Eliza finished her wine and stepped inside to get the bottle. “You want to get married?”
“I don’t want to live my life as a spinster.” Being Auntie Gwen…the woman who never married. Never had a family of her own. No. She didn’t want that as her legacy.
“It wouldn’t be hard for you to find a husband, Gwen. You just need to put yourself out there. Waiting for you know who to make a move that might not ever come is a waste of your time.” Eliza topped off Gwen’s glass and refilled her own.
“I’m not waiting for anyone.”
“I see right though you. If you’re serious about taking charge of your life, you might try starting with a date.”
Gwen hated that her friend was right. Hated it even more that a coward lurked inside her head and kept her from finding the nearest pub and picking up a man…even for one night.
Chapter Six
Moisture gathered on the palms of Karen’s hands. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.
“Miss Jones?”
Karen forced her attention to the study group at her table. There were four girls and three boys with open math books and paper sitting in front of them. Two of the boys were busy texting on their phones while one flirted with the oldest girl at the table.
“I’m sorry, Amy, what did you ask?”
“Is this right?”
Karen glanced at the paper and noticed Amy’s mistake instantly. “Add the fraction again.”
Helping the kids after school with their math, or English, or whatever schoolwork they had was something she could do to help these kids stay in school. They were good kids…kids from broken families, or parents who had to work second jobs to make ends meet and couldn’t be around to help their kids with their homework. Kids who needed a safe haven from the streets on which they lived.
Karen always spotted those kids. The ones who didn’t have enough food, who kept the world from knowing that they lived in a car, or on the street…or a lean-to structure beside someone’s yard. Homeless kids…kids ready to give up on a normal life and reduce themselves to drugs…to dropping out of school.