Red Carpet Arrangement. Vicki Essex

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СКАЧАТЬ nothing. I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

      “Are you warm enough at night? Or too hot? I can get you more pillows, or different ones—”

      “I’m fine. Really. It’s just the baby.” And being in a new, unfamiliar place. She was grateful for the plush guesthouse she’d been installed in, but nothing about her situation made her feel at home. “I just need—” space. To be alone. To do something on my own without being criticized or questioned “—to rest.”

      “You know it’s absolutely no trouble at all for me to drive you around,” Winnie reiterated. “I only work part-time at the bank these days, and I can get time off. Or Kaylee can drive you, if you need.”

      She caught Kaylee’s scowl, but didn’t react to it. “Thank you.”

      She’d only ask either of them if it were absolutely necessary to go out. The truth was, as restless and bored as she was alone in the guesthouse, it was almost preferable to spending all her time with Winnie. Riley’s mother was sweet, but her hovering was getting on Kat’s nerves.

      Not to mention that she got the feeling Kaylee was jealous of all the attention that her mother lavished on Kat and her unborn grandchild. It would explain her attitude.

      But, more than her own space or anything else, Kat wanted some of her independence back. The guesthouse gave her some privacy, but it wasn’t enough. Being around the Jacobsens all the time was beginning to stifle her. She felt trapped by kindness—asking Winnie to borrow her car would only get her chauffeured around, while asking to arrange a rental car felt greedy, somehow, even ungrateful.

      Maybe she was. Maybe she had to be, for the baby’s sake if no one else’s. If she didn’t get out on her own soon, she’d go stir-crazy.

      Back at the guesthouse, she opened her laptop and discovered yet another email from Jamie. It was the eighth one in four days, asking where she was, how she was doing, whether she could take pictures of where she was to reassure her she wasn’t in a rat-infested gulag. Her requests for photos were getting progressively more demanding. The latest message had been telling.

      At least let me know you’re not dead. I’m your friend—can’t you even spare me a minute to say hi?

      Jamie was not happy with her. But her demands smacked of something more than curiosity, as if she knew something.

      As much as it pained her to turn away from her friend, she deleted the email without replying.

      The guesthouse landline phone rang. She picked it up swiftly, hoping it was her mother.

      “It’s me.” Riley’s voice was stiff, and tired, too. A thrill went through her, followed by a tumbling in her belly. She hadn’t thought she’d missed him, but she had. “I wanted to call and check up on you.”

      He could’ve phoned four days ago when she’d first moved in, but he hadn’t. Of course, he was busy. She calmed down and told herself it was a courtesy call, nothing more. “Things are fine. The guesthouse is lovely and your family’s been very kind. I haven’t met your brother yet, though.”

      “Has Kaylee been...cooking?”

      She stifled a rueful laugh. “She has.”

      Riley muttered an oath. “I’m okay with her fruity hippie-dippy crap most of the time, but she doesn’t have a lot of sense when it comes to other people’s nutritional needs. One time she put a pile of wilted spinach topped with raw almonds in front of each of us and told us it was ‘a paleo dinner.’” She could almost picture his shudder. “Tell me honestly, is she feeding you okay?”

      “She cooks a lot of fish for me. For the baby. I mean, it’s not the shrimp feast we had in Hawaii—”

      Riley groaned. “Oh, man. Wish you hadn’t mentioned those—I haven’t eaten yet today. Those kebabs were the best I’ve ever had. I haven’t found their equal, like, anywhere.”

      She smiled as warmth flowed through her. The night they’d met she’d taken him to a roadside stand because nothing on the tiki bar’s menu had struck her as particularly good or authentically Hawaiian. “You’re lucky I knew the owner of that food truck. Those kebabs aren’t on his regular menu. He made them especially for us.”

      The brief trip down memory lane was followed by stilted silence. The ease with which they’d slid back to that night was almost unsettling.

      “Kaylee’s cooking is fine, really,” Kat continued, clearing her throat. She needed to veer away from those happy memories—they felt dangerous. And she also didn’t want to be the cause of strife in the family. She wouldn’t gripe to him about free food and shelter. Riley, however, seemed to pick up on her underlying discontent.

      “I’ll talk to Mom. She only lets Kaylee cook so she feels relevant.”

      Ouch. Was that how siblings usually talked about each other?

      She said carefully, “You don’t have to. I’m really easy to please.”

      God, that sounded wishy-washy. But she’d rather choke down more lemony fish than have someone tell the already querulous Kaylee that Kat didn’t like her cooking.

      “This isn’t about you,” Riley said. “It’s about the baby.”

      Right. The baby. Never mind the woman carrying her. She stuffed down her resentment and asked him pleasantly, “How are things on your end? You sound stressed.”

      “Busy. I’ve barely had a moment to breathe.”

      “Not a good busy?”

      “Hrmmph.”

      He’d made that exact sound the first time they met and she’d asked him if everything was all right. The sound somehow conveyed the cheerlessness of gritty sand blowing across a gravel beach on an overcast day. She supposed it matched the glower he so often sported on movie posters.

      “There’s something you need to know,” he admitted reluctantly.

      He told her about the press junket and the questions surrounding her identity. Then he told her about the reporter, Charlie Durst. “Sam’s doing her best to turn people away from the story, but you need to watch out for Durst. He’s sneaky. He’s been known to go around in disguise and crash celebrity weddings and parties.”

      “I’ll keep an eye out for guys in trench coats with big fake mustaches and rubber noses.”

      He chuckled. She was glad she could still make him laugh.

      “You sound like you need a Shirley Temple.” She couldn’t seem to keep away from the memories, no matter how dangerous.

      Riley’s soft laughter eased the tension strung over the phone line. “You might’ve made me a fan for life if you hadn’t told me what it was.”

      “What’s in a name? A mocktail by any other name would be just as fruity.”

      “You could’ve lied.”

      “It was a pink drink with a cherry and an umbrella in it. Your ego didn’t dent СКАЧАТЬ