Red Lily

of course, she thought as she paused outside of the room Gavin and Luke shared with its bunk beds and shelves loaded with comic books and trucks. It was a home created with children in mind, lots of light and color, the big yard that bumped right up to kiss the woods. Even with the elegance of gardens—and how could the landscaping be anything but beautiful here—it was a yard where kids and a dog could romp around.
    She picked up Parker—the dog had been her only company through the day—and nuzzled him as she walked back downstairs.
    Would she be as clever as Stella with a home and family? As loving and smart and sane?
    She’d never planned it this way. Stella was the one for plans. She’d just cruised along, happy enough with her job at the bookstore, helping her father tend the little housethey shared. Now and again she’d thought about taking a few extra classes in business—to prepare for the vague dream of opening her own bookstore. One day.
    She’d thought about falling in love—one day. Most girls did, she imagined. But she hadn’t been in any hurry for it, for the big love, and what followed. Permanency, home, kids. The whole minivan, soccer-mom routine had been distant as the moon in her head. Years off. Light-years off.
    But things had happened that had pushed her in directions she’d never expected to go. So here she was, not yet twenty-six, pregnant with her second child, working in a field she’d known next to nothing about two years before.
    And so stupidly in love she was all but breathing valentines.
    Just to ice that cake, a cryptic and certainly psychopathic spirit had decided to borrow her body from time to time.
    When Parker wiggled, she set him down, then followed him into the kitchen where he parked himself by the back door and stared holes through it.
    “Okay, okay, out you go. Guess I’m not the most sparkling company today.”
    She let him out, and he pranced across the yard, into the woods as if he had an appointment to keep.
    She wandered out herself. It was a pretty day. The rain had freshened things, cooled the air a little. She could take a walk, do some weeding. Or she could stretch out on the patio chaise and see if being outdoors was more conducive to napping.
    Without much hope, she cocked the chair back, thought about going back in for a book. And was asleep in minutes.
    S HE WOKE A little fuzzy in the brain to the sound of snoring. Baffled, she pressed a hand to her mouth, but thesound continued. There was a light cotton throw tossed over her, and the table umbrella had been cocked to shade her.
    The snoring came from Parker who was flopped on his back beside her chaise, his feet straight up in the air so he looked like a toy dog that had been knocked off its perch.
    Her life might’ve been strange at the moment, but she didn’t think a dog could have moved the umbrella or brought her a blanket.
    Even as she cleared sleep from her throat and pushed herself up, Stella came out the back door bearing two glasses of iced tea.
    “Nice nap?” she asked.
    “I don’t know. I slept through it. Thanks,” she added as she took a glass of tea. “What time . . . Wow.” She blinked at her own watch. “I was out for almost two hours.”
    “Glad to hear it. You look better.”
    “I hope to God. Where are the kids?”
    “Logan picked them up after school. They like going to jobs with him. Gorgeous out, isn’t it? The perfect day for drinking tea on the patio.”
    “Everything okay at the nursery? This kind of weather brings people in.”
    “And it did. We were busy. Look at those crepe myrtles. I love this yard,” she said with a sigh.
    “You and Logan have done an amazing job. I was thinking that before. What a good team you are.”
    “Turns out. Who’d have thought a cranky disorganized know-it-all and an anal-retentive overachiever could find true love and happiness?”
    “I did. Right from the start.”
    “I suppose you did. Smartie. Have you eaten?”
    “I wasn’t really hungry.”
    Stella wagged a finger. “Somebody in there might be. I’m going to fix you a sandwich.”

    “Don’t fuss, Stella.”
    “PB and J?”
    With a shake of her head, Hayley gave in. “No fair. You know my weaknesses.”
    “Sit right there. The fresh air’s good for you. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    True to her word, Stella was back not only with the sandwich, but a sprig of purple grapes, bite-size wedges of cheese. And a half a dozen Milano cookies.
    Hayley looked