Still The One - Carrie Elks Page 0,14

sounded pained.

“Yes. Has Craig been in touch? Offered to send you any money?”

“Nope.” Kim’s lip wobbled. “Too busy in bed with his new woman, I’m guessing. The asshole.”

At least they could agree on one thing. Van placed the bills into her laptop bag and slid it over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know how much it hurts.”

Her mom gave her an interested look. “You’ve been hurt?”

“A long time ago,” Van said softly.

“But you don’t have anybody now, right? Not since that Damon guy a couple of years ago?”

“Nope.” Van smiled. “I’m single and happy about it. And maybe you can be, too.”

“Maybe.” Her mom didn’t sound too certain. To be honest, Van wasn’t certain either. Her mom had always based her self-worth on the way she was viewed by men. For as long as Van could remember, her mom had either been in a relationship or had some sort of arrangement with a man. These past two weeks since Craig had left was probably her driest spell in decades.

Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t leaving the house right now. Because where Van’s mom was concerned, men were almost always trouble.

The early afternoon sun was hazy as Van pushed the door to Murphy’s Diner open, the smell of bacon and coffee assaulting her senses as she grabbed a table next to the window, overlooking the town square.

She wasn’t going to try her favorite booth. Not after yesterday. Better to sit in the open and be able to see anybody who approached. That way she wouldn’t be blindsided.

“Savannah Butler? Is that you?”

Van looked up from the table, her eyeline filled with a swollen, pregnant stomach. She lifted her gaze to see its owner, a petite dark haired woman who she didn’t recognize at all.

Van immediately plastered a smile on her face. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, still trying to work out who this was. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Regan Laverty. Used to be Regan Nash. We went to high school together, you remember?”

“Oh. Hi.” Van took another look at her. Maybe she did look familiar. She stood and shook Regan’s hand. “And congratulations,” she said, glancing down at Regan’s stomach.

Regan laughed. “Thanks. This is our fourth so I don’t get a lot of that.” She lowered her voice. “It’s more commiserations than anything. Yesterday, my boss’s wife took me aside for a talk and asked if I needed her help with birth control.”

Van swallowed down a laugh. “Sounds like folks around here.”

“Mrs. Fairfax means well,” Regan said, shrugging. “But I like having babies. It’s kind of who I am.”

“You work for Johnny Fairfax?” Van asked.

“Yeah, next door at Fairfax Realty. I’m on my break right now.” Regan glanced at her watch. “I only have ten minutes until I have to get back to the office. Can I join you?”

“Sure.” Van watched as Regan wedged herself into the bench seat, her stomach pressed up against the table. “You want a coffee?”

“Better make it decaf. Otherwise people will talk.” She lowered her voice as though it was a secret.

Five minutes later, Van was all up to date with Hartson’s Creek gossip. She knew that Tanner’s brother, Gray, had built a huge mansion on the edge of town and somehow ended up living with his ex-girlfriend’s sister, which according to Regan had caused a hell of a hullabaloo in town. She also knew that Reverend Maitland had broken his leg, but was still running Sunday services on crutches, and that Della Thorsen’s dog had bitten her arm so bad it had bled for hours, yet she was still refusing to have him put to sleep.

Van took a sip of her coffee, amused at how fast Regan could talk. “Poor Mrs. Thorsen.”

“Ah, she had it coming. She’s awful. She made my mom cry at Chairs last week.”

Another mention of Chairs. Van was pretty sure her own mom had been the main topic of conversation these past two weeks at the weekly gathering.

“Have you worked at Fairfax Realty long?” Van asked her when she finally got a word in.

“Five years. I started working right before I got pregnant with my second.” Regan shrugged. “Mr. Fairfax nearly blew a gasket when I told him.”

Van bet he did. “So you must know who owns my mom’s house. One seven five Second Street?”

Regan pulled her lip between her teeth. “One seven five?” she mused. “The one with the oak in the front?”

“That’s the one. Used to be owned by Simon Klein.”

Regan’s face