Shadow Lily

  I wrestled the computer away from him. “My big mouth caused her drama today, Adam.”

  He followed me to the dining room. “It can't be the same as it was before,” he warned. “If being friends means dealing with the same juvenile crap that you put up with ten years ago, there's no point to it.”

  I thumped the computer down on the table much harder than I should've. “I'm not putting up with anything,” I snapped. “I'm just going to try and right a wrong.”

  “And then?”

  I studied his concerned face, pondering his question. “And then I'll leave it alone.”

  He reached, placing his hand on my stomach. “We have better things to be concerned about, Charli.”

  I completely agreed, but saying it out loud would've felt like giving in so I said nothing. The new friendship that was blossoming between Lily and me was easy, uncomplicated and fresh. If the resurgence of the Beautifuls changed that, I had to be prepared to call it quits. I was finally in a good place, and if Lily could find her way clear of Jasmine and Lisa, she could be too.

  In the time it took my computer to fire up, I hatched a quick plan. Putting an end to the fashion week debacle would level Lily's playing field. From there, she could either run with the ball or lay down and let her sister trample her.

  The choice was hers, and hers alone.

  ***

  I had taken a phenomenal amount of photos that day, and getting them uploaded to the Pawesome Designs website took forever. My favourites were the shots of Lily; dolled up in the Valentino gown with a regal-looking Nancy on her lap.

  I emailed them to her straight way, keen to show her that my Photoshopping skills weren't required. I then followed up with a quick text reiterating the fact that every bit of stress we'd endured that day was worth it.

  – Sushi level beautiful.

  Her reply was simple but Lily to a T; a long run of happy face emojis that ended with a love heart.

  ***

  After spending the afternoon squeezing dogs into tuxedos, ball gowns and hoodies, Adam took a long shower before heading out to pick Bridget up. When he called an hour later to let me know they were on their way home, I was still uploading photos.

  Knowing I only had minutes before Cyclone Bridget hit, I made an early morning phone call to Manhattan.

  Bente answered straight away, giving me hope that I hadn't woken her. “I'm on my way to work,” she told me. “And it's freaking freezing this morning.”

  “I'll make it quick,” I promised. “I have a favour to ask.”

  It was a relief to know she was pressed for time. Bente was a stickler for details, but being in a hurry meant she had no time to hear them.

  “My friend has just started a new business. She’s a dog couturier.”

  “A doggie designer?” I could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s a new one.”

  “She’s really talented,” I pitched. “The problem is that she’s having trouble getting her brand out there. I was hoping you could run a story about her in the Tribune.”

  It was the longest of longshots, but I figured anything was worth a try. An article in the Manhattan Tribune and a glowing endorsement from my influential mother-in-law could potentially give Pawesome Designs a huge kick start.

  But Bente wasn’t exactly sold. All I could hear was the sound of background traffic, which meant she’d either dropped her phone or was too outraged to speak.

  “Say something,” I urged.

  “I’m not sure, Charli,” she said finally. “I’ve only been there a few months. I don’t get a say when it comes to the stories they run.”

  “Please, just try,” I begged.

  Her trademark husky laugh filtered through the phone. “No pressure, right?”

  “None,” I assured her. “You live with Ryan. You deal with enough pressure.”

  Her laugh got louder. “I have to go,” she replied. “Leave it with me and I’ll get back to you.”

  I ended the call feeling marginally optimistic that Bente would come through for me, but I wasn’t prepared to jump the gun and let Lily in on the plan. Until her name was in print, it was little more than a hopeful case of nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  11. FALLING SHORT

  Lily

  The downward slide can be unceremoniously fast. Despite the fact that my website now looked as professional as any top level retailer, the sales were abysmal. After a month, I'd sold three outfits, and that included Patty’s highlander coat.

  To make matters worse, a costly but necessary repair to my wreck of an Audi had chewed through the last of my savings. Professionally, I was in absolute dire straits, and holding my personal life together was no picnic either.

  Charli’s prediction that Lisa would set her sights on Noah came to fruition after less than a week, and it was a relentless campaign that extended as far as buying a kitten just so she’d have reason to see him.

  As expected, the city vet wasn't coping well with the unwanted attention. At first, he was nice to her, and when that didn't work he resorted to being curt and short, but nothing worked. Lisa Reynolds was abnormally resilient – and all she had to show for her efforts was a hypochondriac kitten and mounting vet bills.

  In Noah’s mind, I was the key to putting an end to the nonsense. All I had to do was lay claim and let her know that he was off limits. “It'll kill two birds with one stone,” he reasoned. “Lisa will leave me alone, and her cat will make a miraculous recovery.”

  He made a joke of it, but there was nothing remotely funny about the situation. For three months I’d been trying to convince myself that I was worthy of him. Given the latest set of circumstances, I was more certain than ever that I wasn’t. And if I didn’t believe it, no one else was going to buy it either.

  “I can’t, Noah,” I weakly mumbled. “The less I have to deal with Lisa and Jasmine at the moment, the better.”

  I made it sound like an inconvenience that I didn’t have time for, which pissed him off. I could see the tension in his jaw, but he remained calm. We were in his office, and with a crowd of furry patients waiting in the next room, the tough conversation could go no further.

  He stabbed a syringe into a vial of clear liquid and drew back the plunger. “I left high school a decade ago, Lil,” he told me. “I have no interest in revisiting that petty drama either.”

  “I’m sorry.” My voice was pathetically weak. “Sooner or later they’ll move on and leave you alone.”

  “It’d be sooner if you just speak up.” He carefully delivered the shot to the scruff of Nancy’s neck. “I was under the impression we have something special going on.”

  “We do,” I insisted.

  “So why does it feel so one sided?” he asked, handing Nancy a chewy treat.

  He had every right to question it. All he was asking me to do was set the record straight, and by not speaking up, I was giving him the impression that our romance was casual and disposable.

  “I’m doing the best I can, Noah.”

  Frustratingly, the despair I was feeling was absent from my tone. I sounded arrogant and uncaring, and the glint of hurt in his eyes showed the damage it had caused.

  He clipped Nancy’s leash on her collar. “Your best is falling short, Lily,” he replied. “Maybe you should work on that.”

  The level of hurt in my heart was rising to my brain. I couldn't think straight. Was he dumping me? I didn't know, and it was excruciating.

  I scooped Nancy off the bench and held her close. “I need to work on a lot of things.” I frantically blinked, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “Grab a number and get in line.”

  ***

  Despite a strong start, my friendship with Charli had cooled over the past few weeks. We had compatibility issues. While my life was falling to pieces, her world was overflowing with sunshine and roses. The Décaries’ were busier than ever. Bridget had just started school and the news that a new baby was on the way was all over town.

  I had
no interest in playing the role of wet blanket, but after my confusing exchange with Noah, I was desperate to share my woes with Charli.

  After delivering Nancy to Jasmine’s I called in on the way home.

  Adam was loading a set of golf clubs into the back of his ute. I got out of the car and wandered toward him, but my eyes were firmly on Bridget, who was standing on the lawn waving a putter around like a sword.

  “I see you got the Audi back on the road,” he noted. “What was the problem with it?”

  “Something to do with the transmission,” I vaguely replied. “All I know is that it cost me a bomb to fix it.”

  “Ouch.” He smiled then, which was unusual for Adam. He usually grimaced when talking about the once pristine car he used to own.

  “I’ll get over it.” I shrugged. “What are you up to?”

  Bridget rushed over, coming to a grinding halt by her dad’s side. “We’re going to play golf!” she excitedly squealed.

  “No school today?”

  “No, Lily.” She giggled as if it was a stupid question. “No school for girls on Friday. Today is Friday.”

  “So it is,” I replied, grinning at her. “Aren’t you too small for golf?”

  “No, I’m lovely at it,” she boasted. “I can kick that ball’s big butt.”

  She tried to follow up with a swing of her club, but Adam snatched it from her. The apology he gave was directed at me, but the harsh frown was reserved solely for his errant daughter.

  I vaguely pointed in the direction of the house. “I just stopped by to see Charli,” I explained. “Is she in?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Golf isn't her thing.”

  “Golf is my thing,” said Bridget, tugging on his shirt. “Please, Daddy. Let's go now.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, grateful for the escape. “Don’t let me hold you up.”

  A freak hurricane wouldn’t have held them up. Adam bundled Bridget and her smart mouth into the car, and was backing out of the driveway before I even made it to the house.

  I stepped up onto the porch and quietly knocked. Charli appeared a few seconds later, but spoke to me through the screen door. I couldn't blame her for the cool reception. I'd been rudely avoiding her for days.

  “I've left you a hundred messages lately,” she said. “You never return my calls. What's the deal, Lil?”

  “I'm sorry,” I said sincerely. “I've had a lot on my plate, but if you're still up for it, I could really use a friend right now.”

  The younger, hot-headed version of Charli probably would've slammed the door in my face, but the new and improved Charli was much more forgiving. She opened the door, invited me inside and offered to make me tea.

  The conversation took a while to get going, mainly because I had no idea where to start but by our third cup, there was no shutting me up. I started with the epic failure of Pawesome Designs.

  Clearly, it blindsided her. “I had no idea things were that bad.” Her brown eyes were wide, and her frown was strong. “Every time I ask you about it, you tell me it's going well.”

  I stared down at my mug of tea, unable to look at her. “I lied. I've sold nothing.”

  Charli reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “I'm so sorry, Lily,” she said. “I know how hard you worked on it.”

  She'd given it her all too, perhaps that's why she looked so crushed.

  “I'm out of money so it's pretty much the end of the line. Fixing my car chewed through the last of my savings.” I spoke as if it was no big deal, but inside I was dying. “I'm going to have to admit defeat and get a real job.”

  She straightened up in her seat. “Can't you hold out a little bit longer?”

  When I asked why her explanation came at warp speed. In the coolest marketing ploy ever, she'd approached her journalist sister-in-law about running an article in the New York newspaper she worked for.

  “Not only would it be great for business, but it would shut your bitch sister and her sidekick down in a second.”

  Weeks had passed since Charli’s fashion week blunder, but I was still paying the price. Lisa and Jasmine never missed the opportunity to rib me about it, and the further Pawesome Designs slipped into the red, the harder it was to keep the lie going.

  “I keep telling them a deal is in the works.” It was an admission that made me cringe. “I'm going to have to come clean eventually – probably while I'm begging Jasmine for my job back.”

  Charli let out a pained groan. “Just hold out a bit longer, Lil,” she desperately urged. “I'll talk to Bente again. If that article goes ahead, business will boom. You won't have to come clean about anything.”

  I slowly shook my head. “I'm broke, Charli. It's done.”

  “I can lend you some money.”

  My reply got caught in a humourless laugh. “I'm not taking money from you. I'm not a charity case.”

  Her posture crumpled as her shoulders dropped. “Of course not,” she replied. “I didn't mean to imply otherwise.”

  We were quiet for a while, but I was okay with that. Endings are usually subdued.

  I used the time to work out how to broach Noah – the next subject of doom. But Charli's mind was still on figuring out how to drag me back from financial ruin.

  “What about a bank loan?” she blurted. “That might buy you some breathing space.”

  Until then, I'd never even considered it, and I wasn't too arrogant to admit that I had no clue how to go about applying for one.

  Charli shrugged. “I don't know either, but we could go down to the bank and find out.”

  Never one to hold back, she rose to her feet and grabbed her car keys, and before I could really think things through, we were walking out the door.

  12. EMPIRE OF DIRT

  Charli

  The Pipers Cove branch of the Bank of Hobart was located on the main street. Unlike the original bank building that Adam renovated, it was modern, generic and charmless.

  While Lily approached the teller, I hung back by the plastic pot plants near the door, trying hard not to look like I was casing the joint. After a minute of hushed chatter, the woman directed Lily to a row of chairs near the front windows.

  “She wants me to talk to a loan officer.”

  Her inconvenienced tone made me laugh.

  “Did you think they were just going to hand over a wad of cash, Lil?”

  She let out a quiet chuckle of her own and sat down. “I was hoping so.”

  The beauty of living in a small town is that you're never kept waiting long. We’d only been seated for a few minutes when one of the nearby office doors opened.

  I didn’t know the man who walked out to greet us, but Lily seemed to, and judging by her ashen face, she wasn’t pleased to see him. “Don’t leave my side,” she whispered from the corner of my mouth. “Not even for a second.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her.

  As soon as she was within reach, he extended his hand to Lily. “Garret Carmichael.”

  She reluctantly met his handshake but pulled away quickly. “Lily Tate.”

  I didn’t bother introducing myself. I was merely there for moral support, and from what I could tell, she needed it. I just wasn’t sure why.

  Garret showed us through to his office; another generic room with flat pack furniture and uncomfortable chairs. He sat down opposite us and pushed a stack of brochures toward Lily. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”

  I wasn’t exactly well versed on bank protocol, but his question seemed better suited to a Friday night at the pub rather than a loan interview.

  Lily looked down at the brochures, nervously thumbing through them as she tried her best to explain her Pawesome Designs venture. “I’m just looking at a small loan to –”

  Garret cut her off with a click of his fingers that made us both jump. “I know where I know you from.” He leaned back in his chair and flicked his tie. “The Castle Flats Footy Club, right?”

  Lily emphati
cally shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Not even I bought her weak answer, and Garret continued as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

  “You were one of the A-girls.” He turned his attention to me. “We never even came close to winning a premiership, but the A-girls made up for any skills we were lacking.” He followed up with a wink that made my stomach lurch.

  Even with the limited information he’d given me, I knew Garett was revisiting a place Lily didn’t want to go. Her face was as white as a sheet and her hands were trembling.

  “Can we just get back to the business at hand, please?” I asked.

  “Sure, sure,” he replied, flashing Lily a sordid grin. “The floor is yours – just like old times, eh?”

  I would’ve stood up and stormed out at that point, but Lily stayed put. She cleared her throat and determinedly continued her pitch as if she had something to prove.

  The douche wasn’t even listening. “Do you still go to the club, Lily?” He didn’t pause long enough to hear her answer. “I still live in Sorell, but I haven’t been in years.” He patted his paunch and flicked his tie again. “Too old and fat now for those kinds of shenanigans, eh?”

  Garret Carmichael could only have been a few years older than us, and he wasn’t particularly fat. He was, however, an arsehole.

  Finally at the end of her rope, Lily shoved the brochures across the desk. “I think we’re done.”

  “Wait,” he said desperately. “Before you go, take my card.” He opened his desk drawer and slid a business card across the desk. “It’s got my mobile number on the back… just in case you feel like catching up over a drink or something.”

  Lily turned to me and hissed out a desperate question. “Can we go?”

  “Not yet,” I replied, staring at Captain Dickhead. “I want to close my accounts,” I announced. “I’m extremely dissatisfied with the service at this bank.” Garett had the nerve to look insulted, and he didn’t exactly rush to accommodate my request. “Can you do it from here or do I need to speak to a teller?” I asked, pushing him along.