California Girls. Susan Mallery

This totally came out of the blue. Besides, even if it hadn’t, after the way he’s acted, I don’t want him back. I could never trust him.”

      Ali had spoken from the heart and even she was surprised by those last words. Was it true? Did she really not want Glen back? And if so, when had she made that decision?

      “It’s just he was such a nice man and an engineer. He would always have a good job.”

      “Mo-om!”

      “Fine. You’re well rid of him.” Mary Jo pressed her lips together. “I’d so been hoping for grandchildren. I’m not getting any younger.”

      “You’re barely in your fifties.”

      “All my friends have grandchildren.”

      It was a familiar refrain and one Ali didn’t want to hear today. “I’m sorry if the consequences of my broken engagement are getting in the way of your wants and needs.”

      “There’s no need to say it like that.”

      “Mom, I’m suffering here and you’re making it about you.”

      “I’m not. I’m sharing how I feel. Is that a crime, now? I’m sorry about the engagement. I really am. I had high hopes for you and Glen. If you’re looking for a distraction, you can help me go through the house. There’s plenty here that needs doing.”

      “While that sounds amazing, I still have the wedding to unwind. It’s a lot of work and I can’t count on Glen.” Daniel was helping, but this didn’t seem to be the time to mention that. Her mother would assume he was the reason for the breakup, which was so ridiculous as to be laughable. Ali had seen a couple of Daniel’s girlfriends and they all had Victoria’s Secret model potential. As if.

      “Well, you can help me after you’re done canceling the wedding,” her mother said. “What are you going to do about your apartment? Isn’t your lease up?”

      Ali felt the room dip and sway. Not an earthquake, she thought grimly. Nothing that simple and predictable. Nope, her reaction was pure shock because until her mother had asked, she hadn’t once even thought about her apartment.

      “No,” she breathed. “No, no, no.”

      “Ali, you simply have to be more responsible,” her mother began.

      “Not now,” she said firmly, even as her mind struggled to figure out a plan and fast.

      Foolishly, she’d assumed she would be moving in with Glen after they were married. He had a nice little condo in Pasadena, and while her commute would be longer, hey, she was getting married, so of course they would live together. To that end, she’d given notice on her apartment and had to be out a couple of weeks before what would have been her wedding date.

      She and Glen had worked it all out—what furniture they would keep, what they would get rid of. Most of hers was to go, which had been fine because his was nicer and she didn’t feel a deep sense of commitment to her secondhand dresser or coffee table.

      “I’m going to have to talk to the building manager,” she said.

      “Hopefully they haven’t rented the place out from under you,” her mother said. “If they have, you’re going to have to find somewhere else. Rents are going up.”

      “Mom, this isn’t helping.”

      “I’m simply pointing out the reality of your situation.”

      “I’m clear on the reality of my situation.”

      “You don’t seem to be.” Her mother studied her for a second, then sighed. “I suppose you could move back here, with me. You could stay in your old room and help me pack up the house.”

      Or not, Ali thought, hoping the wave of horror washing through her didn’t show on her face. Move back here? Um, no way, nohow. She might not be moving forward in her life, but that was no excuse for moving backward. Not to mention the hell of having to deal with her mother 24/7.

      “That’s very generous of you,” she said evenly. “Thanks, Mom. Let me figure a few things out before I commit.” Which was a very polite version of what she wanted to be saying. “I don’t think they’ve rented out my place yet so I’ll just keep that.”

      “If you say so.”

      Ali glanced at the rooster clock on the wall. “I should, ah, be going. I want to talk to my building manager before she leaves.”

      Her mother stood and hugged her. “I am sorry about Glen. You’ll find someone else eventually, Ali. Goodness knows you work with men all day long. Aren’t any of them dateable?”

      “It’s complicated, Mom.” Mostly because dating someone at work would be dumb and for reasons she couldn’t understand, she was more best friend than babe. No one ever asked her out or hit on her or even made lewd remarks. Not that she would encourage the latter, but was just once too much to ask?

      On the way to the front door, Ali paused by the big grandfather clock in the living room. It was old and ornate and definitely not in style right now, but she had always loved it. Her bedroom had been the one closest to the living room, so she heard the chimes all night. When she’d been younger, she’d thought the clock chimed only for her.

      “Mom, are you taking the clock with you when you move?”

      “That monstrosity? No. It’s old and ugly. Besides, the salt air would destroy it. Why?”

      “I’d like it.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t even have a place to live. What would you do with a grandfather clock?”

      Ali ignored the sense of always being the afterthought kid. “Zennie isn’t going to want anything to do with it and Finola doesn’t care about it. Why can’t I have it?”

      “Do you really need to take this on right now? We’ll talk later. Now go save your apartment.”

      Her mother hugged her and shooed her out the door. Ali told herself not to take any of it personally—it was just her mother’s way. Only it was difficult not to feel slighted and dismissed—feelings she’d grown up with.

      Finola was clearly her mother’s favorite. Mary Jo had married young and then had tragically lost her husband in a car accident. Finola had been the result of their undying love. When Mary Jo had married Bill, everyone had known she was settling. It had taken her a good twenty-plus years to figure it out for herself.

      Zennie was their firstborn and Bill could not have been more smitten with his daughter. Ali wasn’t sure why they’d bothered having another kid. Maybe Bill had secretly hoped for a boy or maybe she’d been an accident. Either way, she was no one’s special child. Everyone knew parents weren’t supposed to show preference for one child over another, but in her house, the lines had been clearly drawn.

      “Apartment first, mope later,” she told herself as she got in her car and headed home.

      She got to her apartment in North Hollywood a good thirty minutes before the offices closed. Elema, the building manager, was in her office when Ali knocked on the open door.

      The fiftysomething woman smiled at her. “How are the wedding plans going? You’re already getting packages delivered here. It’s very exciting. Oh, Sally said someone dropped off an envelope for you earlier.” Elema pulled it out of her desk and handed it over.

      Ali glanced at the plain white envelope. She recognized Glen’s handwriting and hoped a big fat check was inside. Or at least one for enough to cover half the expenses. She tucked it in her back pocket and took a bracing breath.

      “Yes, well, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” she said, settling in the chair by the desk. “Glen and I have gone our separate ways.”

      Elema’s smile faded. “Ali, no. What happened? He seemed like such a nice man. Oh, this makes me so sad. Are