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“Turned me down? Are you kidding me? No one. My goal was twenty participants and I already have triple that. Word is spreading like wildfire, and I have people lining up. Just this morning thirty people registered. But, I want you.”
“Why?” Stephanie and Misty had always gotten along, they’d been friends, but not close friends. Just like everyone in Stephanie’s life who’d all been kept at a safe distance. “Why me?”
“Because if anyone deserves a happily-ever-after, it’s you.” Sincerity shimmered in Misty’s vivid green eyes. “And that’s not a pitch, that’s the truth.”
“Everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.” Stephanie dismissed her friend’s statement because she knew that she wasn’t special. Life had taught her that cold, hard fact at a very early age.
Misty shook her head and her shoulder length hair swayed back and forth as she let out a forced laugh. “No. Everyone does not. But you do. I want you to do this because I’ve seen how hard you’ve had to fight, since you were a kid, for every ounce of happiness.” Taking a deep breath, her friend who’d talked about sex like she was discussing the weather now lowered her voice. “You have always amazed me. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve had so much responsibility and never complained about any of it. You basically raised your brother and sister when you were still growing up yourself, and yet I’ve never heard you complain and you always have a smile on your face.”
Shock washed over her. She was stunned that Misty had noticed any of that. It wasn’t that Stephanie thought she and her family were invisible, it was more like she simply felt like everyone was so busy and involved with their own lives that why would they give hers a second thought?
Her dad left a year after the twins were born when it was obvious that Scott had developmental issues, not to mention general health problems. Once her father ghosted on them, her mother checked out. She concentrated on dating and drinking, leaving Stephanie to do the heavy lifting when it came to caring for Scott and Simone. She’d done the best she could, but it’d been a thankless job. Hearing Misty lay it out so plainly left Stephanie blinking back tears.
Misty continued, “I remember one day in Ms. Paxton’s eighth grade homeroom, a bunch of us didn’t have the book report that was due and everyone else made excuses, I remember Sophie Hunter, er…now Sloan, said that her dog ate it and everyone laughed because she didn’t have a dog. I said that it must’ve fallen out of my backpack on the way to school! Everyone had an excuse but you. You just sat quietly. She knew we were all full of it when she started asking us questions about the book and we didn’t know the answers.
“When class was over you walked up to the teacher’s desk and asked if there was anything you could do to make up the credits. You didn’t whine, you didn’t try to defend yourself or ask if you could turn the paper in late. Ms. Paxton asked why you didn’t have the paper and you explained that your brother had drawn on it and decided that it was his and you didn’t want to upset him by taking it back. Ms. Paxton then asked you about the book and you answered every single question. You actually had read the book and done the report.”
A vague memory of that happening flitted through Stephanie’s mind. Scott had gone through a stage where anything he drew on he became very possessive of and would get extremely agitated, sometimes violent, if it was taken away from him. It had been a lot to navigate at twelve and she hadn’t always handled those situations the best. But they’d both made it through.
The trip down memory lane brought with it more feelings welling up in her chest and, just like the tears, she fought them down. Emotions were oil to Stephanie’s water; they didn’t mix. After taking a few college courses in psychology it became clear to her that she’d avoided them as a coping mechanism. Numb on the inside, happy on the outside was her default. Suddenly she was finding it difficult to remain on emotional autopilot.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, Stephanie teased, “So you want me to do your project because you know I’ll do the homework?”
“See!” Misty’s arms flew up. “You’re funny, too. Looks, brains, and wit…you’re the total package. You have to do this! Please say yes.”
Still not convinced that this was something she should do and becoming increasingly uncomfortable with all of the compliments that Misty was showering on her, Stephanie did what anyone would…she took a bite of her sandwich to stall.
“Oh good. Just the people I was looking for.” Chelle Sloan bounced on her heels after stopping at their table. “You guys are coming to the reopening tomorrow night, right?”
Chelle’s husband Riley Sloan owned a successful bar in New Orleans with a few of the guys he’d served with in the Marines. When the owner of The Plate, which was a staple in Harper’s Crossing, put it up for sale last month Stephanie heard that he and a few guys he worked with had scooped it up. Everyone in town was talking about it.
Growing up she’d always loved going to The Plate. It was a rare splurge in her family since money was always tight, a consequence of depending solely on the check her dad sent every month since her mother never actually worked herself. The restaurant sat on the Riverwalk and the side that faced the water was floor to ceiling windows. It had two levels, the lower held a restaurant and the upper boasted a bar. They’d closed it for the last few weeks for remodeling and Stephanie couldn’t wait to see what they’d done with the place.
Since her mouth was still filled with her BLT, Stephanie nodded and gave a thumbs up.
“I’ll be there.” Misty responded.
“Great!” Chelle clapped. “I’m so excited for you guys to see it. It looks so amazing. There’s a full stage and Chase is performing a new song with a surprise special guest.”
Chase Malone was a bona fide rock star who’d grown up in Harper’s Crossing, but left when he was a teenager. Now he was back and married to Riley’s cousin Krista, who also happened to work with Misty in the physical therapy department at the hospital. He was currently producing his third solo album and word was that he’d been collaborating with some pretty amazing artists.
Misty clapped her hands excitedly. “I know who it is. Krista accidently slipped up when we were at happy hour the other night.”
“Can you believe she’s actually going to be here?!” Chelle exclaimed as she glanced back and forth between them.
“I don’t know who she is,” Stephanie shrugged her shoulders.
Chelle and Misty both leaned forward and whisper-mouthed simultaneously, “Virginia Valentine.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened. She’d always loved country music. It told stories of heartbreak, survival and overcoming difficult odds. And Virginia Valentine was Nashville’s reigning sweetheart. Her voice was clear, full and soulful. Her talent didn’t stop there; she also wrote all of her own music and although her songs were popular on the pop charts they were true blue country. “Crossing Hearts” and “Head Over Heels” were two of her favorite songs of all time.
“Seriously? Virginia Valentine is going to come to Harper’s Crossing?”
“Yes!” Chelle beamed. “And they’ll be debuting their brand new single at the party.”
A vibrating buzz sounded and all three women checked the devices attached to their waist.
“It’s me,” Chelle sighed with a wave. “Gotta go, I’m so glad you’re both coming.”
