A Change in Perspective (EBOOK)

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Prologue

Is it possible to have a nervous breakdown at twenty-seven?

There’s a roaring in my ears, as if I’m trapped in a tunnel underneath the ocean with water pouring in through a gaping trench, and it’s barreling toward me like a freight train.

My jaw aches from clenching my teeth together, or it’s because I constantly grind my teeth. I still haven’t followed my dentist’s advice to wear a mouth guard at night or to alleviate the stress in my life.

It could ache from the screaming fit I just had at the office. My throat is certainly raw.

You would think a partner in a law firm would have enough sense not to pat the ass of one of their female lawyers. Did he really believe I would welcome the attention? Did he think I would smile politely and let him grope me?

My chest feels like there’s a vacuum attached to my lungs and it’s sucking all the air out.

I quit my job!

I suppose the proper thing to do would’ve been to quietly report him to the human resources department—which I did, belatedly. Throwing his stupid golf award into his computer screen and threatening to sue him into oblivion if he ever touched me again might have been over the top.

And now the two cars blocking my entrance into my garage haven’t magically disappeared. I drum my fingers on the top of my steering wheel. Why didn’t Mark drive his car, or the white convertible sitting next to it, into the garage?

No, they left both cars out in the driveway for all the neighbors to see.

I guess I can’t keep pretending I don’t know he’s cheating on me.

Three days of telling myself I was paranoid.

Three days of denial.

Whoever she is, she left lipstick on the neckline of one of my dresses. It hung by itself with the clothes on either side pushed aside. The dress was hard to miss in my orderly closet. The glossy, red shade of lipstick stood out like a beacon on the white dress. I’d never wear that shade of red. It would clash with my coloring.

She wanted me to see. It’s the only explanation.

I climb out of my car and stroll up the brick pathway we had installed two months ago. Had he been screwing her then?

They left the front door unlocked. Giggling drifts down the stairs.

There’s an iceberg floating in my stomach, and it’s spreading a frozen chill throughout my body. My fingers twitch at my sides. I flick the tips of my lavender nails, making them click.

Modern furniture fills the open floor plan. Mark’s mother gifted us her design skills as a housewarming gift. The cement dining room table probably weighs as much as my car. The animal print rug lies in the center of the living room like a ritualistic sacrifice. The gray couch is so uncomfortable no one sits on it for more than a few minutes. I hate every inch of this place.

I stride over to the mantel and snatch the glass sculpture I purchased on our honeymoon in Venice. It’s solid and heavy. I clutch it to my chest and climb the stairs.

The bed creaking and the slap of skin sliding together grows louder. They left the door open. I wrinkle my nose over the smell of sex and sweat filling the room.

She’s skinnier than me—a lot skinnier. She barely has any curves. Her hair is dark brown to my blonde. She’s older too. She has to be at least thirty-five. What does he see in her? What didn’t I provide?

I clutch the sculpture tighter between my breasts.

They’re too enraptured with each other to even see me standing in the open doorway.

I bet I could walk right up to the bed. My bed.

My bedroom.

My house.

My husband.

I stroke a finger down the smooth side of the glass. It’s heavy enough to do considerable damage. One well-aimed hit would cause tremendous pain and probably a concussion.

Two or three hits in quick succession could incapacitate both of them. Perhaps it would do much worse.

Am I capable of that?

Isn’t anyone under the right circumstances? When they’ve been pushed too far and can’t stand a minute more?

I could plea temporary insanity. I’m sure there are precedents to site.

I might even get away with it. At worst, a plea bargain and a few years of good behavior might have me out on parole before I’m too old to start over.

The blue and green threads twist and entwine inside the glass. Red would clash with the sensual beauty of the sculpture. Mark and his whores aren’t worth another ounce of my life.

“Is this the one who’s been trying on my clothes and leaving lipstick on them, or is this another one?” I stride across the room to my closet. “I suggest you hire a divorce lawyer.”

The woman shrieks as Mark shoves her to the floor and scrambles out of the bed.

I grab my suitcases and stuff the sculpture into one.
Handfuls of clothes follow as I snatch them off hangers and shelves.

Mark ushers the woman out of the bedroom with her clothes hanging in her arms despite her vociferous protests.

I fill a second suitcase and open a third.

He appears in the open doorway while yanking on a pair of pants. “Baby, I know you’re upset. Let’s talk about this.”

“You can have the house. Buy me out.”

He grabs my arm. “Baby—”

I yank my arm free and stalk into the bathroom. One by one, I rip out the drawers and upend the contents into my bag.

“It won’t happen again. It’s just sex. It means nothing.”

“That’s what you said last time.”
 





Chapter One

Franny slaps Olivia on the arm. “Tell me that is some horrible illusion, and your brother did not just walk by with Vanessa hanging on his arm.”

Olivia rubs her arm and cranes her neck to peer out the window of the bakery. “I hate to disappoint you, but she’s Ollie’s realtor. As far as I know that’s all it is, but with my brother, you never know.”

I peek around Franny. Oliver’s tall form is easy to spot, and so is the dark-headed woman strolling next to him in a short black skirt and three-inch heels. Her legs must be freezing. The damp April weather hovers around forty degrees. I shiver in my sweater and leggings just thinking about strolling down the sidewalk with my thighs exposed.

“Luce, didn’t you once say you wanted Oliver to be your rebound guy? You should go say hello and save him from her before he makes a horrible mistake. He might end up like one of those doomed characters in one of Luke’s novels.” Franny waves her finger between Olivia and me. “You know the one I’m talking about. The wife kept her husband chained in her attic for years when he threatened to leave her. She told everyone he was dead.”
Olivia’s mouth drops open and she stares out the window. “I love my husband’s books, but I don’t want my brother dating anyone who resembles one of his characters—especially not that one.”

I pat my sister’s hand. “Franny, I say this with love. You’re sounding a little crazy. Vanessa isn’t the spawn of Satan.”

It’s been two years since I left Mark. Oliver is a very handsome man. I’ve jokingly mentioned I wouldn’t mind him being my first foray back into dating. But that was before he decided to move back to town. He seemed like a safer choice then. I wouldn’t have to see him if our date went horribly wrong. Now, I’d probably run into him too often.

Franny’s twisted her apron strings around her fingers like a tourniquet. “You better let go of the apron before you cut off the circulation in your fingers. You won’t be able to bake for the rest of the day, and didn’t you say you had a specialty cake you needed to finish?”
She frees her fingers and pushes the apron across the table. “She may not be the devil’s spawn, but she’s definitely on his invite list.”

“Well shoot, now I feel like I should go save my brother from her evil clutches. Lucinda, are you sure you’re no longer interested?”

I smile at Olivia and take a sip of my tea. A hint of lemon bursts over my tongue. “I didn’t say that…”

“I’ll call Mitch. We’ll have a little get-together at our house.” Franny points to Olivia. “You and Luke.” She nods at me. “And you and Oliver.”

“Real subtle, Franny. I think I’d prefer something a little less blatant. That sounds as bad as a blind date.” I tap my fingers against the black iron table. The heavenly smell of baked goods wafts through the small dining space. I glance over my shoulder. Sally drops two everything bagels into the bakery’s black bag with pink writing and hands it to a customer.

Franny waves her hand dismissively. “It’s not a blind date. You’ve already met a couple of times.”

Olivia laughs. “I think you’re missing the point, Franny. Lucinda is right. Oliver has never been one to let me set him up with anyone, and he would see that as a total set up. He’d probably bail on the whole thing. I’d also have to tell him there’s no longer a ban on him dating any of my friends.”

“There’s a ban?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh yes. I had to start the ban in high school. He dated one of my best friends, and after they were through, she barely ever spoke to me again.”

“Ouch.” I frown. “He broke her heart?”

Olivia winces. “I told you he’s a player. He never gets serious. Women always think he will, though. You’d have to be sure you’re only looking for a short fling with him and nothing long-term or monogamous.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m ready for even that. I haven’t been with anyone since the divorce, not even a date. It’s been two years. Is it weird I don’t know if I’m ready to date yet? It’s not like I have any residual feelings for Mark or anything. Those died a long time ago, even before the divorce.” I shrug. “I guess I just don’t have the interest in all the drama of dating, or even a fling with no strings attached.”

Franny squeezes my hand. “Luce, don’t let my emotional outburst push you into doing anything you’re not absolutely ready for. Obviously, I still have unresolved issues where Vanessa is concerned. It’s hard to forget all the years she bullied me. You’ll date when you’re ready.”

“As a divorcee myself, I don’t think there’s a set time limit after a divorce for when you should start dating. Everyone is different. It took quite a while for me, too.” Olivia sends me a comforting smile from across the table.

I bump Franny’s shoulder with mine. “Look on the bright side, Oliver might break Vanessa’s heart. She deserves a heck of a lot of bad karma.”

Franny chuckles. “I didn’t think of it that way. You’re right.”

“I’m not sure I like the image of my brother as a karmic weapon, but if anyone could do it, it would probably be Ollie.”

Franny stands and pushes the long sleeves of her green top up. “On that note, I better get back to work. The cake isn’t going to decorate itself.”

“Break time is over.” Olivia stands too. “I’ve got to get those new pictures uploaded to the bakery website.”

“I’m going to finish my tea before I head upstairs to my apartment.” I lift it slightly in the air as they scoot past me. I have a lengthy list of calls to make today and a meeting with a potential client this afternoon. There’s a momentary pang as Franny and Olivia disappear behind the bakery counter. I miss helping out in the bakery and chatting with them on a regular basis. We’ll have to make these breaktime visits a weekly occurrence.

Thanks to Franny and Mitch’s wedding and, more recently Kelly and Holden’s, my wedding planning business has a decent number of clients. Celebrity weddings can’t be beat for advertising, but people quickly forget too. I need to build a solid local base, which means I need to stop working out of my apartment and find a professional workspace.

It's a bit of a catch twenty-two. I need the space to keep the clients coming, but I need the clients to pay for the space. Renting a storefront in the village isn’t exactly cheap. Granite Cove’s prime real estate is the village because of the lakefront and the charming historical buildings lining Main Street. I’ll have to find an office on the newer side of town, and I won’t be asking Vanessa to be my real estate agent.

I really need to come up with fresh ideas for wedding venues to offer my clients, too. Unique destinations, as well as a wide range of suggestions, should entice prospective brides. The wedding venues in the area aren’t extensive. White Birch Inn hosts small weddings, and I’ve left them my card, but they usually handle their events in-house. The country club has the largest space, and thanks to my parents being longtime members, they’ve agreed to send interested parties my way.
Rebecca’s intimate beach wedding was beautiful, but on a private beach. I should make a list of public beaches and see if we need a permit. Franny’s wedding was on their private estate. The inn is the closest offering for a lakeside wedding. There might be private owners willing to rent space for events.

I finish my tea, chuck the cup into the trash receptacle, and slip behind the counter. Olivia has come back up front and helps Sally with the customers. I didn’t even notice the sudden surge of customers while I was finishing my tea. I try to catch her eye to wave goodbye, but she’s smiling and chatting with Bobby Calvert.

His blond hair curls over his ears. He’s already sporting a bit of a tan even though it’s only early spring. He grins at something Olivia says. So he is capable of being friendly. Every time I’ve waited on him when I’ve filled in at the bakery, he’s barely said two words.

Although, he usually comes in earlier in the morning. Not everyone is a morning person. I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

I walk over and stand next to Olivia and face Bobby. “Hi Bobby. Picking up some raspberry turnovers?” I remember they’re his favorite.

His smile vanishes. “Thanks, Olivia.” Bobby turns and walks out of the bakery without acknowledging me at all.
Okay, not the time of day. It must be me he doesn’t like.
Olivia leans close. “Is there some history there I’m not aware of?”

I glance at her and force a smile. “If there is, I’m in the dark. I mean, we went to high school together.”

“Maybe it was just my imagination, but he seemed to get a little frosty toward you.”

“Not your imagination. He’s always that way with me, and I don’t understand why.”

“Strange. You never dated him or anything? Did he ask you out and you turned him down?”

“No. He dated one of my closest friends for a while.” I shrug. “I’m going to head through the kitchen and say goodbye to Franny. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

Franny stands in front of a several-tier high white cake with pink flowers cascading down the side. She adds a ribbon of pale pink along the top edge of the bottom tier. The sweet scent of frosting tickles my nose as I walk past.

“I won’t disturb you. I’m on my way up to my apartment.” I point to the stairs outside her back door.

“Okay.” She raises her head. “Hey, did you read this month’s book for book club yet?”

I stop at the long marble counter in the center of the room. “Not yet, why?”

“My copy is in my tote.” She tilts her head toward the hooks on the wall. Her black canvas tote with The Sweet Spot logo hangs on one of the hooks. “You can read mine. I already finished it.”

“Thanks.” I pluck the book out of her tote. The cover has a dragon on the front. “Is it any good?”

She nods. “I stayed up way past my bedtime the other night. Gets pretty steamy too.”

“I could use some steamy.” My lady parts seemed to have gone into hibernation. I open the door. “Bye. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I close the door and gaze at the lake spread out before me. Franny’s bakery has a prime spot. Even though the sky is overcast and gray, a few boats are in the cove and farther out. I glance over at the marina on the other side of the parking lot behind the stores lining Main Street. Boats already fill half the marina. Over the next few weeks, it will fill to capacity as people put their boats in the water for the season. A chilly breeze whips my hair over my face and sends an icy tingle down my back. I should’ve grabbed my coat instead of dashing down the stairs in nothing but a sweater. I push my hair off my face.

Bobby stands next to his truck with Calvert Landscaping on the door. He’s chatting with an older gentleman I don’t recognize.

Why doesn’t he like me?

He and Jackie dated for most of our junior year. We never really went on a double date or anything, but I don’t remember her saying he had a problem with me. Although, I don’t remember him being at a lot of the school functions either.

The man he was talking to walks away with a wave. Bobby waves back and stares out at the lake.

I’ll never learn why if I don’t ask.

I stride across the alleyway between the bakery and Skis ‘n’ Things into the parking lot. He opens his door.
“Bobby!”

His blond head turns and his gaze finds me. He frowns and folds his arms over his chest.

At least he didn’t ignore me and drive away.

I stop next to him and flash him my sunniest smile. His frown doesn’t ease.

“Have I done something to offend you? I get the impression you don’t like me much.”

“What, you can’t stand the thought that not everyone is a member of your fan club?”

I rear my head back. His animosity is definitely not my imagination.

“Of course not, but I want to know if I’ve offended you in some way. If you just don’t like me, then fine.”

“I just don’t like you.” He climbs into his truck and drives away while I stand there trying not to let my mouth hang open.

I clear my suddenly dry throat and glance around to see if anyone witnessed my humiliation. Thankfully, no one in the area appears to be paying me any attention. Of course, they could be avoiding eye contact.

It’s my own fault. I just had to know what the problem was. Is he right? Can I not stand it if someone doesn’t like me?

I shuffle back to the steps of my apartment. Is it wrong to want people to like me? Who doesn’t want people to like them?