Shadow Lily
by G.J. Walker-Smith
© 2016 G.J. Walker-Smith
Other Books by G.J. Walker-Smith
Saving Wishes (Book One, The Wishes Series)
Second Hearts (Book Two, The Wishes Series)
Sand Jewels (Book 2.5, The Wishes Series)
Storm Shells (Book Three, The Wishes Series)
Secret North (Book Four, The Wishes Series)
Silver Dawn (Book 4.5, The Wishes Series)
Star Promise (Book Five, The Wishes Series)
Shiloh (Book Six, The Wishes Series)
Stone Roses (Book Seven, The Wishes Series)
Contact the author:
https://www.facebook.com/gjwalkersmith
mailto:
[email protected] http://www.gjwalkersmith.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied or reproduced without the written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places or people, living or dead, is coincidental.
Shadow Lily
By G.J. Walker-Smith
Dedication
For everyone who believes
Table Of Contents
1. Vitriol
2. New York Minute
3. The Magic Wagon
4. A Shot In The Dark
5. Rookie Mistake
6. Cool Kids
7. Gaelic Blood
8. Lovely And Thrilled
9. All Bark And No Bite
10. Sushi Level Beautiful
11. Falling Short
12. Empire Of Dirt
13. Constructive Editing
14. Fanfare
1.VITRIOL
Lily
The Best Salon in The Cove is loud, even when there’s no one there. When my sister decided to tone down the lime green décor in favour of something more chic, her husband spent an entire weekend painting the walls a frightful shade of yellow called Disco Lemon.
Predictably, Jasmine was thrilled with the result. “Oh, Wade,” she beamed. “It’s as if a million sunsets have exploded in here!”
That one statement summed up my sister to a T. She was excessive, over the top and out of touch – and it had taken me far too long to figure it out.
My formative years were spent idolising her. I’d grown up thinking she was cutting edge and fashion forward, but over time I came to realise she was just as backward as a small town girl could be.
Years of my life were wasted following Jasmine’s airhead ways, and I used to dress like a glitzed-up hooker because of it. Dyeing my blonde hair brown and ditching the callgirl outfits took care of my fashion crimes, but growing a backbone and completely breaking free of her was taking much longer.
Smartening myself up was also a part of operation anti-airhead. I started with my vocabulary, making it my mission to learn a new word every day.
Today’s word was vitriol. According to the app on my phone, it means abusive or venomous language used to express bitter, deep-seated ill will.
It wasn’t a word I was likely to forget in a hurry, mainly because it came with a visual demonstration. Like a trapped rat, I was caught in Jasmine’s salon on the receiving end of one of the nastiest tantrums I could remember.
And I’d brought it all on myself.
“You can’t quit working here!” she screamed. “You need this job!”
She was wrong. What I needed to do was stick to my guns and make her accept that I was done being her salon lackey.
“I’m sure you’ll manage without me,” I muttered. “All I do is sweep hair and make coffee anyway.”
“Well, I’m not doing it!” she screeched. “That’s always been your job.”
“Not anymore.” I shrugged. “Maybe Wade could help you.”
With a look of pure acid on her face, she looked me up and down. “Who’s going to hire you, Lily?” she asked. “You’re not qualified to do anything else.”
“I’m not looking for another job,” I told her, standing tall. “I’m going to concentrate on my own business.”
“What business?” she barked. “Being an idiot isn’t a business.”
Jasmine might not have been cutting edge, but she was still cutting. When things didn’t go her way she resorted to nasty insults, and I was hopeless at fighting back. Perhaps that’s why I reduced my lifelong dream to dirt by explaining it badly. “I’m going to make clothes for dogs.”
Jasmine let out a humourless, condescending laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re an idiot.”
“I have it all worked out,” I said, ignoring her. “Pawesome Designs will be a huge success.”
Jasmine grabbed a dustpan and broom off the counter and thrust it at me. “Sewing outfits for Nancy doesn’t suddenly make you a designer, Lil.” She pointed at the pile of hair clippings on the floor. “Stick with what you do best.”
Designing clothes for pets is what I did best. Nancy, our Pomeranian pooch, had been cursed with a bad case of eczema since puppyhood. Her incessant itching left ugly bald spots that no ointment or pill could cure. Crafting a few cute outfits was designed to pretty her up and give her a confidence boost, but over time, I realised the boost in confidence was all mine.
Nancy had an outfit for every occasion – and I designed and handmade all of them. I wasn’t Lily Tate, salon lackey. I was a pet couturier, and I was damned good at it.
“It’s a sound business idea, Jasmine.” I thumped the dustpan down on the counter. “I have more than enough clients to keep me going.”
That was a lie. To date, Nancy was my only customer, and she wasn’t great when it came to paying for my services.
Jasmine flicked her hair off her shoulder, looking as superior as ever. “So you think you’re some kind of bigshot now?”
“No,” I muttered.
I was a small shot, but I was on my way.
“If you’re going to be an entrepreneur, Lil, you should at least know how to spell it.”
Little did she know, her nastiness was extremely helpful. It made standing my ground a whole lot easier. I slung my handbag over my shoulder and headed for the door. “You’re a bitch, Jasmine,” I told her. “B-I-T-C-H.”
***
My sister can hold a grudge forever, and when Wade turned up at my door a few days after our run-in, I knew I’d been banished long term.
“I’m here to discuss the custody arrangements of Nancy.” He gave the lead in his hand a tug, making the poor old dog stumble forward. “I’m the mediator.”
The only things more ridiculous than the Lycra bike pants he was wearing were the words he spoke. My sister and I had been successfully sharing Nancy for the past ten years without incident.
I unhooked the lead from her collar and scooped Nancy off the floor. “Nothing has changed,” I insisted. “I’ll drop her off at your place on Sunday.”
“You’ve changed,” he accused.
I playfully slapped his beefy arm. “Aw, thanks, Wade.”
“It’s not a good thing, Lil.” He slowly shook his head. “Family is supposed to stick together – one for one and all for all.”
Jasmine’s decision to marry a man with a single digit IQ was immensely helpful when it came to bolstering my self-esteem. After spending a lifetime wearing an invisible dunce hat, Wade Davis waltzed in and took the crown from me.
To most, the attraction wasn’t obvious. He was easily confused, often got his words mixed up, and had biceps like tree trunks. But I knew exactly what my sister saw in him; Wade loved her unconditionally, which was far more than she deserved most of the time. He’d also do anything for her, wh
ich is why he’d turned up on my doorstep to do her bidding.
“I think you should go down to the salon and ask Jas for your job back,” he suggested. “Just tell her you’re sorry and move on.”
“If I live to be a hundred, that will never happen,” I said, inching the door closed. “And you can tell her that.”
Wade stepped forward, wedging his foot in the way. “You need a real job, Lil,” he insisted. “Selling dog clothes isn’t a real job.”
I couldn’t take offense. Wade was little more than Jasmine’s parrot. If anything, I should’ve been praising him for remembering his lines.
“Look, I don’t need to defend myself to you.” I pushed him in the chest sending him stumbling back onto the porch. “Go home and tell your wife that you have nothing to report.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d slammed a door in his face, but it was definitely the most rewarding – right up until he delivered a parting shot that made me second guess everything.
“You’re on your own, Lil,” he called. “Jasmine is done with you. I hope you’re happy.”
There was nothing to be happy about. Walking out on my job at the salon was an act of mutiny, and my sister was likely to destroy me because of it.
Nancy wasn’t the only thing we shared. Trailing in Jasmine’s wake meant that we also had the same friends, and on her word alone they’d drop me in a flash. Truthfully, it would be no great loss. They were carbon copies of her; catty and judgemental, which was everything I was trying to turn my back on.
The bigger worry was the influence she had over my parents. In their eyes, my brother Mitchell was an unambitious beach bum, and I was a dim scatter-brain. We were no-hopers, but Jasmine could do no wrong. She was special and acted accordingly.
Our dad did his best to stay impartial, but Mum didn’t even try to hide the obvious favouritism. I shuddered to think what she’d say when she heard about our falling out. I knew she’d take my sister’s side, which meant I’d left myself open for attack, and my mother wasn’t one to hold back.
I couldn’t dwell. If saving my soul meant cutting my mum loose too, I was prepared to do it. I deserved better, and always had done.
***
Every few months, Floss Davis hosts strange events called crystal parties. They usually involved longwinded lectures about the healing powers of gems, an overload of vegan snacks and the obligatory purchase of semi-precious trinkets that no one really wants. Attendance is mandatory, which meant my plan of laying low didn’t last long.
I knew my mum and sister would be there, and as I stepped onto Floss’ front porch, my heart was thumping because of it.
Before I had a chance to knock, the front door swung open. “Lily, lovie,” crowed Floss, throwing her arms wide. “Welcome.”
Keen to see what I was up against, I tried to look past her, but Floss is a big woman. I couldn’t see anything beyond her flowy green kaftan.
I dutifully followed her through the cluttered front room and into the kitchen, incessantly nodding as she explained the order of proceedings.
“It’s such a lovely day, I thought we’d all sit outside.” Floss thrust a paper plate at me. “Get yourself some food and find a chair. I’ll start the presentation soon.”
I looked at the massive spread laid out on the kitchen table and couldn’t see a single dish that I was willing to try. “Did you cook all of this?” I asked.
“I’ve been cooking for days.” Her warm voice was laced with pride. “Only the best for my crystal ladies.”
The smile I forced was almost painful. I had no intention of being one of her crystal ladies, but judging by the sounds of shrill giggles and high-pitched conversation coming from the back patio, I was the minority.
After ordering me to load up my plate, Floss shuffled out the door to tend to her guests. I was happy to stay put and hide in the kitchen, but the peace was short-lived. Charli walked into the room, looking just as uncomfortable as I felt. “Floss told me to get some more food.” She waved a paper plate at me. “I hate this vegan crap.”
I looked down at the table. “That makes two of us.”
“Here.” She picked up a spoon, loaded it up with something that vaguely resembled potato salad and dumped it on my plate. “Try this.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She grinned. “Any time.”
I welcomed the light-hearted banter but knew it wouldn’t last long. Charli and I weren’t friends. She tolerated me, and it had been that way for as long as I could remember.
“Are you here by choice or obligation?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I have no interest in rocks.”
“Well, I love rocks.” Charli handed me a plastic fork. “Floss’ gemmology lessons drive me nuts, though.”
“But you always buy things at the end of it.”
“That’s why we’re here, Lil,” she replied. “Don’t let the vegan spread and bottles of cheap wine fool you. This is Floss’ hard sell. She’s a shrewd business woman.”
For the briefest of moments, I wondered if I should’ve been taking notes. I was supposed to be a business woman too, but I didn’t have a shrewd bone in my body.
“I could probably learn a thing or two from her.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “I heard you quit your job at the salon to branch out on your own. Doggie fashion design, right?”
“Sort of,” I reluctantly confirmed. “Is that really what you heard?”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “No. I heard that you had a knock-down drag-out fight with your sister. Apparently, there was glitter and sparkles flying everywhere.”
Charli wasn’t renowned for gossip. If the story had reached as far as her, it was fair to assume that the whole town knew about it.
“I’m not sure if I can face this today.” I shoved a bowl of salad aside and set my plate down on the table. “I might just leave.”
“That’s what you do best, Lilian,” interrupted a voice from behind. “Your sister can attest to that.”
I didn’t have to turn around to know that the jibe had come from my mother. I would’ve recognised her caustic tone anywhere.
“Hi, Mum.” As weak as it was, the pleasantry was wasted on her. I could tell by the look on her face that she was already in attack mode.
“I suggest you get outside and apologise to Jasmine,” she demanded, pointing to the door. “Do you have any idea of the stress you’ve caused her this week?”
In a strange show of unity that I wasn’t expecting, Charli moved closer to my side. “Perhaps this is a conversation for another day.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “Let’s not ruin Floss’ party.”
My mother’s harsh glare shifted to Charli. “Quite right,” she falsely agreed. “It’s nothing to do with you anyway. It’s a family matter.”
Satisfied that she now had control of the room, Mum refilled her wine glass and walked out the door, leaving nothing but embarrassment behind.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled. “She’s pissed.”
“Grand actions cause grand reactions, Lily,” Charli replied, handing me my plate. “You just have to be brave enough to stick to your guns and see it through.”
I knew she was speaking from experience. Charli Décarie was a calm and reasonable adult, but Charli Blake had been a defiant brat who constantly bucked the system and raised hell. Perhaps that’s why I allowed my resolve to slip in front of her.
“I’m not feeling very brave,” I admitted. “They want me sweeping up hair in the salon, and the longer I hold out, the uglier it’s going to get.”
“Is sweeping up hair your bliss, Lil?”
“No.” The word came out in a whispered growl. “I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, Charli, but I’m not brain dead. I have to believe there’s more out there for me than that.”
Charli put her hands on my shoulders, turned me around and pushed me toward the door. “Then go outside, put on a brave face and show everyone that you mean business.”
&nbs
p; ***
Jasmine’s circle of friends hadn’t altered much since high school, and seeing them huddled in the corner as we stepped out onto the patio reminded me of recess in the schoolyard quadrangle. Most of them still had the same hairstyle, and all of them were still hanging on Jasmine’s every word.
I made a beeline for the first empty chair I saw, refusing to pay any of them more than a sideward glance. Charli took a more relaxed approach, slowly wandering past as if she was holding out for an invitation to join them.
Predictably, Jasmine stopped her. “Adam’s mum hasn’t been to the salon for a few days,” she said. “Where is she?”
“Back in New York, I expect,” replied Charli. “They left on Wednesday.”
Even from a distance, Jasmine looked gutted. Fiona Décarie had singlehandedly doubled the salon’s revenue over the past few weeks, and the loss of her daily visits was surely going to sting.
“Well, that’s rude.”
“Totally rude,” Charli shot back. “I’ll be sure to call her and tell her that you think she lacks manners and class.”
Horrified by the notion, Jasmine gasped. Fiona Décarie was the most glamourous woman imaginable, and my sister worshipped the ground she walked on.
“I never said that!” She held up both hands. “Don’t tell her that!”
Ignoring her, Charli picked up a plastic chair and headed my way. “Touchy, isn’t she?” she asked, setting it down beside me.
“We all have goals,” I replied. “Jasmine wants to be Fiona when she grows up.”
Charli dropped her head and let out a quiet laugh, but there was no need to be discreet. Everyone’s attention was on Floss, who’d taken centre stage on the step near the back door.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” She clapped her hands together. “We have a lot to get through.”
I managed not to groan out loud, but plenty of others weren’t as polite.
If Floss was bothered by the lack of enthusiasm, it certainly didn’t show. She called Charli forward and asked her to help her. “Take this, lovie,” she instructed, passing her a black velvet bag. “Pick any piece you like.”