Starting Over On Blackberry Lane. Sheila Roberts

spent Friday morning working with Beth on another photo shoot—rhubarb-strawberry crisp—and then spent much of the afternoon editing. Come five o’clock, she tossed together cut-up sandwich meat and spinach and called it good (no one would ever take pictures of her cooking). Then she settled down on the couch to eat dinner.

      All by herself. On a Friday night.

      She’d complained to Steve about their life being boring, but at least they’d had one. Often on Friday nights they’d gone over to Brad and Stef’s to play Mexican Train or watch a movie together or, when she insisted they had to get out, to Zelda’s. She didn’t want to go to Zelda’s alone, and somehow it didn’t feel right to go over to Stef’s when it was only her. Friday night was couples’ night. She wasn’t part of a couple anymore. Now she was a third wheel.

      Maybe she’d see if Cass wanted company.

      She put in a call and got Cass’s voice mail. “If it’s after eight, sorry, I’m in bed. If you’re calling on a Friday, sorry, I’m pooped. Leave a message, though, and tell me what I missed.”

      “You didn’t miss anything,” Griffin said at the sound of the beep. And how pathetic was that? Oh, never mind, she had a new Susan Wiggs book to read. She’d spend her evening with that. Then tomorrow it would be paint day. Oh, yeah. Look at the exciting new life she had now that she’d broken up with Steve.

      It was going to be exciting, she promised herself. And it was going to be good to get her house fixed up. Who knew—maybe once it was all painted and pretty, she wouldn’t want to move.

      The next morning she donned her grubby jeans and an old sweatshirt and got busy. She decided to start with the living room, the first thing people would see when they walked in. She laid out her drop cloth and opened her paint can. Then she went to the shed in the backyard and hauled in the ladder, a rickety old thing that had probably been around since the fifties. Just as well she didn’t weigh a lot, otherwise it might not have held her.

      She poured paint into her tray, set it on the ladder and went to work with her trusty new roller, starting from the top of the wall and working her way down. After she’d done a section, she stepped down to admire her work. Oh, yes. This place was going to look good enough for an HGTV show by the time she was done.

      Back to the ladder, up to the top step. Paint, paint, paint, reach out just a little farther...lose balance, let out a screech, grab for the ladder and miss, tipping the roller tray and sending it—and her—flying. Land on right hand, right hip in roller tray. Experience pain. Big pain, super pain. Sit on the floor and wail. Yes, home improvement was such fun.

      * * *

      Her baking was finished for the day, and the kitchen was cleaned. Cass was ready to sneak away and leave Gingerbread Haus in the capable hands of Misty and Jet, her Saturday crew, and go home to shower and take a nap. Then, for the evening she had big plans—watch all her favorite TV shows that she’d recorded during the week. And make some popcorn. Popcorn and TV, real exciting. As Charley had said, she wasn’t that old. Why was she living like it? Why did her life suck?

      Your life doesn’t totally suck, she reminded herself. She had three great kids, whom she’d raised single-handedly, thanks to her ex. He was finally back in the picture, along with his trophy wife and her ridiculous little dog and their trophy toddler. Ever since Dani’s wedding, they’d made a habit of coming up and staying with her at Christmas, along with the kids, giving family holiday gatherings the feel of a cringe-humor movie. But, in spite of that, life in the family department was good. Her business was thriving and she was well respected by everyone in town and had great friends. Okay, her life didn’t totally suck. It only semi-sucked.

      But...she’d like to have sex again. Yes, sex would be nice. So would going out to dinner once in a while with someone who had a voice lower than hers.

      Remember Mason.

      Reminding herself how miserable and frustrated she’d been with her former husband was usually enough to convince her that she didn’t want a man. Men were, for the most part, a selfish and inconsiderate breed. Yes, Charley’s husband was great, and her other best friend, Samantha Sterling-Preston, had done okay. So had both of Sam’s sisters. But Cass was still convinced that those were the exceptions, not the rule. At this point in her life, she didn’t want to sort through the losers to find a winner. That would be like looking for a diamond in a gumball machine.

      She’d just removed her apron when Misty raced into the kitchen. “OMG! You’ve got to come see who’s here.”

      No, she didn’t. She hadn’t slept well the night before and she wasn’t wearing any makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was still in a hairnet and she was in her grubbies.

      “I’ll pass,” she said.

      “No, really!” Misty started towing her out of the kitchen, babbling as they went. “I don’t know what he’s doing in Icicle Falls. Maybe he has family here? Maybe he’s hiding from the paparazzi.”

      “Hiding from the paparazzi in Icicle Falls?” Cass repeated with a snort. “Who are you talking about?”

      They stepped out into the shop and she didn’t have to ask. For a moment her heart forgot to beat.

      “Hi, Cass,” called Dan Masters. “You remember my dad, right?”

      She’d have to have been brain-dead to have forgotten.

      “I’m taking him around town to meet people. Thought we’d stop in for a cookie.”

      Why was she wearing this stupid hairnet? And why didn’t she ever bother with makeup? Why hadn’t she stuck to her diet? Why, why, why?

      “How about it?” Dan prompted.

      “Hmm?”

      “Cookie?”

      “Oh, yeah. A cookie, of course! I do owe you cookies for life.” She’d give his daddy cookies for life, too. She’d give his daddy anything. “Jet, how about a couple of cookies for the gentlemen?” she said to her other gape-mouthed employee.

      Jet nodded and produced the requested treats.

      “No more leaks?” Dan asked Cass.

      “So far, so good.”

      “Okay. But don’t push your luck. You need to get that roof fixed.”

      Cass gave him a salute. “Yes, sir. Will do!” He chuckled.

      “We’re off to Zelda’s for lunch. Wanna join us?” he offered.

      Like she wanted to sit at a table with Dan and his gorgeous father for an hour so she could leave the man with an indelible impression of herself looking like this. “I’ll pass, but thanks.”

      “Okay. We’ll catch up with you later, then,” Dan said and started for the door.

      “Nice seeing you again,” said his dad.

      “Same here,” Cass lied. Nice was hardly the word for it. Torture would be more appropriate.

      “I thought for sure he was that actor,” Misty said after they left. “He looks so much like him.”

      Yes, he did. Dan’s father was the male equivalent of chocolate, cream puffs and key lime pie all rolled into one. He definitely made a lasting impression.

      She didn’t even want to try to imagine what he might have thought of her. Not that she was butt-ugly, but she wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. A man like that wouldn’t look twice at a woman like her. He probably hadn’t even remembered her.

      But since she wasn’t in the market for a man, who cared, right? She took out the chocolate cake she had in the display case and cut off a large piece to take home. There. Who needed a man when you had popcorn, TV shows and chocolate cake?