Page 7 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

I turned and looked around—a fair few people were passing by in the square, but none seemed to be stopping to talk to the elderly woman sitting forlornly behind the stand. I walked up and fished in my pockets for some change. I had a couple of nickles, and the old lady startled as I dropped them into the yellow bucket on the side.

“You…you donated,” she said. I looked into her face, and studied her pale, watery eyes and papery skin.

“Oh my God,” I said. “You’re Lyla Reeve.”

“Why, of course I’m Lyla Reeve,” she said, folding her arms and fixing me with a harsh expression. “Who else would I be? You know anyone else who’s willing to sit out here on a hot day?”

“No, it’s just…” I said. “You taught me chemistry in High School. My name’s Laura. Laura Solomon.”

“Laura?” said the old lady, as though she were savoring my name on her tongue. “Laura. Laura. Why, yes! I remember you? You used to help Erwin with the Collector, didn’t you?”

“When he’d let me,” I laughed, extending a hand. There was a lively glimmer in the old lady’s eyes, and she smiled as she reached out and gripped my hand with hers.

“Good to see you, Laura,” she said. “They told me you went away. San Francisco, someone said? That right?”

“That’s right,” I said. “I’ve not been back in, well. Years.”

“Well, you missed my retirement party,” she said. “And, Laura, I was so sorry to hear about your father. Derek was always coming into school to do things—nature walks, conservation.”

“That was Dad,” I said, and I felt guilt stab at my heart as I said it. My dad was a conservationist. He’d been part of the original team who’d had the nature reserve protected by law way back in the nineties. And he’d been singlehandedly responsible for fundraising and leading community projects to protect the wetlands and the area around the lake.

“Well, I know someone who’ll want to see you,” she said. For a moment, I froze. It couldn’t be, could it? I thought of Conor—handsome, gorgeous Conor, and it was like I couldn’t breathe.

But Lyla turned and barked in a hoarse voice into the gloom of the library’s front entrance. “JEMMA! GET OUT HERE.”

“What is it now, you old coot?” said a familiar, bubbly voice. And before I could even recall the name, I was looking into the face of Jemma June.

Jemma had been my best friend in high school. We’d formed an uneasy alliance in middle school—we were always tall for our age—but had become great friends. I hadn’t seen her since the day before my wedding. A wedding which had never happened.

Jemma put her hand on her hip, and looked at Lyla. Then, she turned her curvy hips in my direction, and tossed her blonde locks over her head. We always used to joke that Jemma was my mom’s ‘favorite daughter’—my mom Tracey doted on her, and Jemma looked a little like Tracey, with her blonde hair and blue eyes.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw me. “LAURA?” she said.

I expected a tirade. I expected coldness. I expected her to tell me that I’d betrayed everyone I knew and everyone who was important to me. But instead, the bouncy blonde girl jogged towards me, and threw her arms around me.

“You’re back,” she said, and for a moment, I believed her. “This is crazy,” said Jemma. “This is the best thing ever. I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“You look great, Jemma.”

“But, are you on vacation or something? I asked about you. David said you were a reporter in San Fran? What was that like?”

“To tell you the truth,” I said, “I’m, uh, between jobs at the moment.”

“What? You left?”

“No,” I said weakly. I didn’t want to go into it now—into any of it. Why I’d left. Why I was here. Seeing Jemma was like looking through a window into the past. A time when I’d been a different person. Not jaded by the years, or heartbroken about Conor, or taking care of Kyle, or thinking about my career. Just a wide-eyed small-town girl, having fun and kidding around with her equally wide-eyed, equally small-town friend.

“How’s your mom?” I said.

“Oh, you know!” she said. “Still fighting crime. Not that there is much of it around here. I guess you know that most people from our class have left.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much just me now at the moment. Most people are away on vacation this time of year, or moved for work. But now you’re back,” she said, beaming as she squeezed my hand, “I’m actually looking forward to summer in Caluga Falls.”

“So,” I said, “you’re helping Lyla with the library fund?”

“I think you mean ‘making sure she doesn’t get heatstroke’,” Jemma sighed. “It’s not like we’ve a hope in heck of raising any money. Only don’t tell Lyla that. Sometimes I think this whole ‘Community Effort’ thing is the only thing keeping her from keeling over.”