Between Us Girls Read online

  Of course she was in dire straits. Liv did not pull in well-adjusted, happy people.

  Sam sighed again. In all honesty, she included herself on that one.

  Four years ago, desperate for an apartment or condo that was located no more than three freeway exits from her new job, she had wandered the streets of Seaside Village, the last possible choice and nowhere near her first. Its laidback, beachy culture felt shallow. Hemmed in by the freeway and ocean, it felt confining.

  She’d sat in a coffee shop, drawing thick lines with a black marker through listings that had sounded hopeful on paper but turned out to be positively putrid, nearly sick to her stomach at the thought of returning to the dingy motel room she had lived in for three months. Why hadn’t she taken that job in Los Angeles rather than the one in San Diego? Was it too late to change her mind?

  Someone nearby had kept clearing her throat until finally Sam turned and saw a stranger, tall and large-boned, with glasses and fluffy silvery-brown hair and a smile.

  “Excuse me, dear. You need a place to live.”

  Right off the bat, Sam sensed comfort and safety. But, Sam being Sam—socially inept—she bristled at the tender vibes.

  Liv had rattled off the pertinent details. Two bedrooms, hardwood floors, charming but updated, crazy unheard-of low rent, and one block from Jitters, the coffee shop where they sat. An hour later, Sam had signed a lease.

  True, she had not been happy or overly well adjusted at the time, but she had presented herself as if she were sane. This newcomer appeared fragile, a waif in imminent danger of a major meltdown. What was Liv thinking?

  Sam continued to watch as Liv introduced the woman to the residents and their families and, good grief, even to Beau, the handyman, who looked like a linebacker but had a Gentle Ben personality.

  Sam referred to herself and these neighbors of hers as the Detainees. Why such a mismatched band of people had come together baffled her, but they were now smiling at the newcomer. Typical.

  Inez and Louis Templeton, Cottage Eight, were great-grandparents and had that role down pat, dousing everyone under the age of seventy with parental adoration. Naturally, Inez greeted the total stranger with a hug.

  There was Piper from Four. Model beautiful, she worked part-time in a department store.

  Chad from Two was model handsome. He and Piper made a good-looking couple, but they were not involved, probably because he was an aimless, perpetual college student whose rich parents paid for his lifestyle.

  Cottage Six neighbors Riley and her daughter, nine-year-old Tasha, were introduced next. The little girl, who had Down syndrome, surpassed Inez when it came to being lovable. She hugged the woman fiercely and told her about the cupcakes she already knew Sam had delivered.

  Noah, aka the Stork from Five, smiled and introduced his teenage daughter, Déja, who did not live full-time with him. He was, as far as Sam could tell, a part-time dad, part-time musician, part-time choir director, and part-time chef.

  Coco Vizzini, from Twelve, grinned and waved from her wheelchair next to a patio table. Her lipstick was smeared. Her mascara was thick on her lashes as well as her cheeks. Not a strand of her blond hair, however, escaped the perfect bob, which was a wig. She wore a rhinestone-studded jacket. She was the epitome of old-fashioned glamour. No one knew her age, but she told story after story of her Hollywood career in the 1940s and 1950s.

  Keagan from Cottage One was missing. He mingled even less than Sam did. She had yet to figure out Mr. Kung Fu Dude. According to Liv, he ran a gym and held some sort of martial arts honor. According to his constant facial expression, he ate a lot of lemons.

  Liv owned the property, all twelve cottages. She had inherited the place from her father. When her husband died about ten years ago, she had moved into Cottage Ten to manage as the resident busybody.

  Busybody probably went too far. Liv did not interfere with Sam in the least. She gave her warm greetings and food. At times Sam still bristled. In fair moments, she admired the woman’s independence and hard work. In unfair moments, she groaned.

  Liv approached her now. “Samantha, this is Jasmyn Albright from Valley Oaks, Illinois.”

  “Hi.” Sam shook her small, cold hand. “I’m Sam from Seven. Have you memorized all our names and numbers yet? Liv’s going to test you.”

  Jasmyn’s smile slipped. She tried another with the same result.

  “Oh, Samantha.” Liv’s smile never slipped. “Don’t make her feel worse. Her car was stolen right out in front of the Casa.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way, with all her belongings. Isn’t that odd? These things don’t happen here.”

  Indeed, they did not happen around there. Seaside Village had its share of malcontents and crime. The Casa property, though, along with its street and the alley out back, was never involved. Even litter was a rare thing. Sam had always felt physically safe.

  Liv touched her arm and grinned. “No worries, dear. I’m sure it was a one-time incident. And now we’ve met Jasmyn.”

  Sam knew from experience that she should simply accept the leap between two unrelated events. If she tried to decipher what car theft had to do with happily meeting someone new, she would be there all night.

  Liv’s expression turned somber. “She’s lost her clothes, phone, and purse. Isn’t that awful? We notified the police, but that’s not going to take care of tonight or the foreseeable future, is it?”

  “N-no, it’s not.” Sam hesitated. Jumping onboard with Liv carried with it the possibility of being pushed out of her comfort zone.

  Sam had numerous examples. One time when a mouse had been spotted inside Riley’s cottage, Liv talked Sam into letting Riley and Tasha spend the night with her. It turned into three nights before the creature and its friends were dealt with. Because her spare bedroom served as an office without a bed, she let them stay in her bedroom while she slept on the couch.

  Liv said, “Eleven is vacant, you know, so Jasmyn can stay there.”

  Sam felt relief and then guilt. “But it’s empty.”

  “Which is why I’m lining up a few necessities. Jasmyn insists a television is not a necessity, but I was wondering about that little one you have in your kitchen that you said you don’t use all that much.”

  Only for news programs. Mornings and evenings. Every day. “I’ll get it for you. What about a chair? I have a fold-up rocker.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Towels?”

  “Yes, we’ll need those. And pillows, sheets, and blankets. Inez has a rollaway but is short on linens because two of her grandkids are coming this week. Do you have a TV tray or two? Chad has a card table, but you know Chad. It’s buried treasure and he doesn’t have a map.”

  Sam nodded, noticing Jasmyn shift her weight from one foot to the other and crumple the water bottle. Her face reddened and her eyebrows were all but lost up into her hairline.

  Sam sensed the meltdown was approaching while Liv went on and on about linens and TV trays. “Okay, so you’ve talked to the police. What about credit card companies and your phone service provider?”

  Jasmyn shook her head.

  Liv said, “We’ll get to that. I thought some friendly faces and food might be comforting before all that other business.”

  At last the woman spoke. “Really, I’m not very hungry.” The voice fulfilled Sam’s expectation. It was tenuous and soft, like a little girl’s.

  Fully aware that it was not the woman’s fault that she spoke in syrupy sweet tones, Sam found it off-putting anyway. But it called for help, and Liv was dropping the ball.

  Sam tilted her chin and crossed her arms. “Liv.”

  “Oh.” Liv caught on to her disapproval. “You think business first?”

  “Yes. She’ll be hungry later.”

  “You’re right. Right as rain, like always. Why don’t you take her into my office and show her around?” Liv looked at Jasmyn. “I told you Sam was the bright one.”

  Sam nearly laughed out l
oud. Bright one. Yeah, right. Liv had just finagled her into donating several items to the cause and helping Jasmyn wade through headache-producing details.

  At least she would not be sleeping on her couch tonight.

  Eight

  Alone in the Casa’s office, Jasmyn sat at a desk, on the phone with Quinn. As she had imagined, her friend assumed Jasmyn had stumbled upon the sort of group that made national freaky headlines.

  “You should come home right now. Tomorrow.”

  “When I said everything was stolen, that meant my purse and my wallet and my driver’s license. You can’t get on a plane without ID. I’ll call in the morning about getting it replaced.”

  “Oh, no. What are we going to do?”

  “Quinn, I’m fine. Really and truly.”

  “Would you know if you weren’t? Nope. Cult wackos are always super nice at first. That’s how they get you to trust them. Tell me again about the scary guy.”

  “I said he was kind of intimidating, not scary.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Jasmyn wondered how to describe the energy she’d felt when Keagan said with such certainty that Liv was the real deal. “He’s like Sheriff Cal. You wouldn’t want to cross him, but he makes you feel safe.”

  “This guy sounds bizarre. Who names their kid Keagan? It’s probably his special cult name.”

  Jasmyn stifled a sigh and looked through the office window. Everyone milled about the pretty courtyard and seemed to be having a good time. Liv was easy to spot, tall and laughing.

  “Liv is one big heart walking around on two legs.”

  “Every cult needs a mother figure and an enforcer. You’ve met them both. What are the others like?”

  “Quinn, honestly, they’re just regular people. Sam is a little uptight. She’s the one who got me online. She has short, coal-black hair. You’d call her chic. I thought she was the manager, but she told me Liv manages and owns the place.”

  “You should check out the office. See if you can find any incriminating evidence.”

  “What in the world would that look like?”

  “I have no idea, but you’d recognize it.”

  “Right.” Jasmyn swiveled in the chair and took in again the pretty room that, according to uptight Sam, was originally one of the cottages. It had been divided in half to create an office and a laundry room. “I don’t see any. The room looks like a big heart must have decorated it.”

  Quinn moaned. “Okay, fine. I’m just concerned.”

  “No need. I’m looking at pretty pink floral curtains and wallpaper. Comfy chairs. A rose in a crystal vase. Old photos on the walls. A kitchenette with a super cute teapot on the counter. Only a lovely person has an office like this. I will be fine, Quinn. How’s the picnic going?”

  “It’s going.”

  Jasmyn pictured her friend right now at the Valley Oaks Labor Day picnic, out at the park by the baseball fields with half the town. Her natural curls would be wound extra tight because of the humidity and sticking to her head like a blond swim cap, but she wouldn’t give a hoot.

  “Jasmyn, don’t change the subject. You can’t go through loss like this again, especially not with a bunch of strangers, no matter how regular they seem. We have to get you home.”

  Home. Home…

  Funny thing. San Diego felt like home. Two weeks ago, she landed, drove straight from the airport to the beach, and dipped her toes into the ocean—the Pacific Ocean!—and an indescribable sense of coming home, of homecoming, washed over her. It was as real as the wave that immediately knocked her flat.

  Amazing, awesome, and really, really weird.

  Then things got even weirder.

  The feeling didn’t go away. For days on end she swam in salt water that drenched her over and over again with a deep, bone-melting, laugh-out-loud happiness. She had come home.

  Liv slipped naturally into the home scene. She was the fairy godmother, the heart on two legs, the mother figure. A version of mom that Jasmyn wished she had experienced.

  How on earth was she going to explain such things to Quinn?

  In the end, Jasmyn did not try to explain such things to Quinn. She gave her friend Casa de Vida’s address and phone number and made a bunch of silly promises, such as she would lock the door, lock the windows, and not give out any PIN numbers or passwords.

  Beyond exhausted now, Jasmyn followed Liv through the rooms of Cottage Eleven, blinked, and tried not to cry at the gift being handed to her. Was she awake or asleep? She wasn’t sure.

  The tour ended back in the living room.

  Liv turned to her. “Jasmyn, dear, what’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “It’s so…so…” She shrugged again.

  Liv leaned in until she was eye-level with her. “Good or bad?”

  Jasmyn whispered, “It’s so good it’s almost bad.”

  Liv clapped her hands once and laughed. “I know just what you mean.”

  Jasmyn wasn’t sure she did, but how else could she say it? Not two hours ago she had the clothes on her back, a pair of sweats, and a stack of magazines inside a beach bag, and nothing else. Now she had a roof over her head and a home that was filled with necessities and then some. Was it too good to be true?

  Of course it was too good to be true. Everything was borrowed. The home was temporary.

  “Just remember that you are welcome to stay for as long as you need. Or want.” Liv smiled. “I’m right next door in Ten if you need me. Coco is on your other side in Twelve, but she couldn’t hear fireworks set off in her kitchen. Now get some rest. We’ll tackle the details tomorrow.”

  She was out the door before Jasmyn could thank her properly. But what was properly for such an enormous gift?

  She roamed back through the cottage. It was small, quaint, and almost as pretty as Liv’s office. The walls were a soft yellow. The hardwood floors gleamed. The bathroom and galley kitchen were spotless.

  While she had been on the phone, Liv and the others had created a haven. The living room invited her to sit and relax with a padded rocker, floor lamp, and small television. A fragrant bouquet of flowers graced the wide, built-in seat in front of the bay window.

  The kitchen was empty except for a few dishes and cups in the glass-front cupboards, a coffeemaker on the counter, and food from the picnic inside the fridge.

  Even sparsely furnished, the bedroom surpassed her motel room when it came to cozy. A multicolored quilt covered the rollaway. On top of it sat a stack of fluffy sea-green towels. Soft light shone from a single reading lamp on a TV tray.

  Clothes hung in the closet and toiletries were spread across the vanity in the bathroom. Piper, the beautiful young woman from Four who worked at a department store, had provided all of those things. Apparently clothes and cosmetics were her life, so she had plenty to spare and loved equipping others with them, but still…

  It was so good it was almost bad.

  Jasmyn giggled. Then she cried. Then she took a shower, slipped into a lavender cotton nightshirt that still had the tags on it, and crawled into bed.

  Nine

  Before any of her tenants had opened the blinds on their bay windows, Liv was out and about, making her morning rounds in the courtyard.

  She smiled. Syd, her late husband, had coined the term making her rounds. He said she was doctor and security guard rolled into one. Through the years, other people had called her Mama Liv, angel, prayer warrior, crazy coot, and odd duck. And those were only the ones she knew about.

  But, as young people said nowadays, whatever. She was fine with the labels because they suited her. Believing that those who lived at the Casa had been placed there for her to watch over was the axiom she lived by. She began each day with a stroll around the courtyard, a pause before each cottage, and a prayer for the occupant.

  Facing the courtyard that still lay in shadows, Liv sat now near her front door on an Adirondack chair, a teapot and cup beside her on a table. All the cottages had similar chairs, their color
s chosen to match each front door. Hers was holly red, Syd’s favorite color on her.

  Tobi, her RagaMuffin cat, purred on her lap. She was a beauty with her mouth and nose centered inside a triangle of white fur. Her right eye and ear were surrounded by dark fur, the left ones by orange.

  Birds chirped their predawn song while Liv jotted notes on a pad. She needed to get to the market and the library and tend to those sad mums under the sycamore. The burned-out lightbulbs in the laundry room and the Templetons’ drippy faucet were chores for Beau, her maintenance man.

  She heard Eleven’s door open and close, a swishing sound nearly lost in the swelling birdsong. That would be the new girl now, trying not to disturb anyone. She seemed a bit on the mousy side with her soft, small voice. It was a wonder Liv had convinced her to spend the night at the Casa.

  Liv leaned forward, eager for Jasmyn to appear. The cottages were not lined up in a straight row, but in a staggered circle around the courtyard. Each front door was set back in an alcove. The lovely design created corners and privacy, an excellent feature for such a compact area. But for an odd duck who moonlighted as a mama, it fostered impatience.

  Liv waited her limit of three seconds and called out, “Jasmyn, dear?”

  The girl peered around the corner of her cottage. “Liv?”

  “Good morning!”

  Jasmyn emerged, a mug in her hand and wearing a pale yellow robe that fit her to a tee. “Good morning.”

  Liv patted the arm of the chair next to hers. “You look bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

  “Do I?” Jasmyn sat and smiled. Even in the grayish light of dawn her almost-violet-colored eyes shone. Dimples appeared in her rounded cheeks. “I do, don’t I?”

  “You must have slept well.”

  “Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how well I slept. Did you know with the window open you can hear the surf from here?” She paused as she heard her own question. “Of course you know that.”

  “It is lovely when the wind blows just right.”