The Friends We Keep. Susan Mallery

Hayley.

      “I can’t wait,” the other woman said. “Have fun meeting Jairus.”

      Tyler grinned so broadly, Nicole knew his face had to hurt. “It’s only five more days.”

      “Do you know how long that is in minutes?” Hayley asked, then slapped her hand over her mouth as Tyler turned to Nicole.

      “Mommy?”

      “I’m sorry,” Hayley whispered. “I just made it worse, huh?”

      “We’ll survive.”

      Tyler rushed over and danced in front of her. “We can know how many minutes?”

      “Sure. We can do the math when we get home. We’ll need a calculator.”

      Hayley winced. “Now I’m making you do math.”

      Nicole hugged her friend. “I love you, even when you make me do math. But when I regrout my bathroom tile, you’ll be the first person I call.”

      “It’s a deal.”

      Nicole straightened. For a second she studied Hayley. As always, her skin was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked as if she were in the middle of fighting some awful illness. Nicole knew the truth was slightly less desperate, but still painful. Hayley was recovering from yet another miscarriage.

      Nicole took Tyler’s hand and led him out of the store. As she helped him into his booster seat, he chattered on about B the D and the upcoming visit by the prolific author.

      Maybe it wasn’t Jairus’s fault, she told herself as she closed the rear passenger door. Maybe he was really a very nice man who loved children. She doubted it, but hoped she was wrong. Because she would hate for Tyler’s heart to be broken by meeting a flawed hero.

      On the bright side, she’d volunteered to be there for the visit. So if Jairus turned out to be a complete ass, she would do everything she could to protect Tyler and the other kids. At the very least, she could accidentally trip the man. And call him names. Possibly beat him with a stuffed B the D doll.

      That image made her smile. Perspective, she reminded herself. So much of life was all about perspective.

      * * *

      “‘And we’re learning how to trust. And we’re finally starting to live.’”

      Hayley Batchelor tapped her fingers against her steering wheel as she sang along with the radio. The new Destiny Mills song had her swaying in her seat. When the light turned green, she drove through the intersection, and made a right.

      At six-thirty on a Thursday night there was plenty of traffic—neighbors pulled into driveways, kids were out playing in front yards. The speed limit was only twenty-five, but no one went faster than that. It wasn’t that kind of neighborhood.

      Hayley saw that the house on the corner now had a second story. For months it had been in disarray. It had been interesting to watch the demolition followed by the reconstruction. Once finished, the house would be stunning. Most of the neighborhood was going through a similar process—updating, sprucing. Hayley knew there was a term for it—gentrification, maybe.

      She turned at the next corner and drove down her street. Here there were more signs of the revitalization. She liked the fresh paint, the new front doors. But when she pulled into her driveway, she wrinkled her nose. Talk about shabby, she thought as she stared at the overgrown yard and peeling paint around the windows. The pale gray stucco was still in good shape, but the house looked like what it was—a place that had been neglected for a while.

      She knew all the reasons why and they made sense, but things had changed. It was time for their house to reflect those changes.

      She collected her Supper’s in the Bag totes and made her way to the front door and went inside.

      The house was small—just fifteen hundred square feet. When it was first built, the home had been only twelve hundred square feet, but the previous owners had added a master suite, complete with a small bathroom and walk-in closet. That brought them up to three bedrooms and two baths. The lot was a decent size and the location—just four blocks to the ocean—was prime.

      The hardwood floors in the living room were original, as was the fireplace. Not that they ever used it much. Los Angeles wasn’t known for cold winters. But it was pretty and every now and then the temperature dipped enough to warrant burning a log or two.

      Hayley stepped into the kitchen and put away the dinners. Two went into the refrigerator while the rest were stacked in the freezer. When she was done, she turned on the oven and pulled out what she would need to make a salad. She folded the bags and stored them in the small laundry room, then turned back to look at the kitchen with what she hoped was a critical eye.

      The layout was good. The counters—fifties tile done in two-tone green—weren’t exactly contemporary, but they kind of suited the house. There was a lot of natural light and plenty of storage space. The cabinets were solid wood and beautiful, though they could use a good refinishing, along with updated hardware. She ran her hands across one and wondered what it would take to redo them. Was it something she and Rob could handle on their own?

      The floor was a sad linoleum, but replacing it would be too expensive. The sink was on the newer side and when their old stove had died, they’d replaced it with a nicer model.

      If they left the tile and focused on the cabinets... That would make a difference. Some fresh paint would make a big impact, too.

      She wandered down the short hallway that led to the main bath and two bedrooms. She and Rob argued about the bathroom a lot. It, too, was original to the house, with two-toned blue tile and a huge tub. He wanted to gut it and put in something modern. She liked the character of what they had.

      The secondary bedrooms were easy. Paint would improve them a lot and maybe some inexpensive window treatments. The back bedroom, the smaller of the two, was a home office. The other one, well, she didn’t go into that room. She knew what it looked like. Pale yellow walls and gleaming hardwood floors. A rocking chair sat in the corner. Otherwise the space was empty.

      The master addition was on the other side of the house. Again, paint and maybe new bedding would make it look just fine. The house had good bones, was in a great neighborhood. They just needed to give it a little more TLC.

      She heard the front door open and footsteps in the living room.

      “I’m home,” Rob called.

      Hayley went out to greet him. “Hi. I just got in myself. We’re having enchilada casserole for dinner.”

      Rob was about five-ten, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He wore glasses and had an easy smile. He was the kind of guy people instinctively trusted and Hayley had liked him from the first moment they’d met.

      Now she stepped into his embrace and hugged him. He kissed her cheek.

      “How was your day?” he asked.

      “Good. Busy. I went to Supper’s in the Bag.”

      “I figured. You know I love those enchiladas.”

      “I do.”

      His gaze settled on her face. “You feeling okay?”

      “I feel great. Strong.”

      His expression was doubtful, but he smiled. “Good. It’s a nice evening. We could eat outside.”

      Because while the rest of Los Angeles sweltered in the mid-July heat, Mischief Bay had the natural air-conditioning brought on by an onshore breeze.

      “Great idea.”

      They walked into the kitchen together. While Rob washed his hands, she put the casserole in the oven before setting the small timer in the corner. He got two beers from the refrigerator and two tall glasses from one of the cupboards. He poured and handed her a glass. They went outside to the shade of their east-facing backyard. Chairs dotted the brick