Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance by Jean Oram Page B

had promised her a nonspeaking role—she
had to stand tall even though she knew her night was not going to
end in Oz's arms like his mother had promised.
    She squared her shoulders and turned to the
group. "He's not home. Let's go."
    "His truck is in the driveway," Oz's father
pointed out.
    "Maybe he's taken your bike," Cynthia
offered with a smirk.
    "That's quite enough," reprimanded Oz's
mom.
    Beth's cheeks burned.
    "Try again," Angelica commanded.
    Beth turned to the scarred wood door and
thumped on it, waiting for it to swing open. She traced her finger
over the small 'B' Oz had carved into the door the night they'd
signed the mortgage papers. He was going to carve their initials,
but she'd stopped him, feeling self-conscious. It was a door, not a
tree.
    She pulled in a long, calming breath. Maybe
if she was the one he saw first when he opened the door she could
make sure it turned out all right and she could act like this was
simply a social call to see how he was doing and she could somehow
shield him while redirecting everyone away. Away. Away. Away. Yes,
she could do it.
    She could feel it.
    Okay, she couldn't quite feel it, but she
was hoping a lack of good feelings wasn't a bad omen. She bit her
lower lip. Maybe he was trying a new career or hobby right now.
What if they were interrupting some sort of 'find yourself'
epiphany?
    She turned to the group. "Hey, has anyone
heard of Oz trying any new hobbies lately?"
    Basically, if nobody saw him exploring new
hobbies... and he hadn't made any changes... and he hadn't asked
her back... then maybe things really were as bad as his mom
thought.
    They group looked at each other in question,
everyone shaking their heads. "Nope. Why?" asked Cynthia.
    "Just asking," she said with a sigh. She
rubbed her throbbing hand, wishing they'd installed a doorbell like
Katie had frequently suggested. She'd give anything to have Oz's
strong, warm arms pull her in right now. To have him kiss her
deep—in that way that made her feel like she'd finally come home.
Like she belonged somewhere special. How he'd look her deep in the
eyes, his face's lines relaxing as he told her he loved her.
    She tried the doorknob. Locked.
    It figured. He thought to lock it now that
he lived alone and not back when they were getting friendly all
over the living room and risked people popping in at inopportune
moments. She selected the correct key on her keychain, slightly
bothered she still had it even though it signified the hope she
kept secreted away. She released the lock and let out a breath.
    He hadn't changed the locks.
    Hope swelled along with relief and she swung
the door open.
    She could do this.
    She stepped over the threshold and just
about melted as the trailer's heat pummeled her. She faced the
group and tried to ignore the way everyone stared at her with
raised eyebrows, acting as though she had the right to play
welcoming hostess rather than unwelcome intruder.
    Harvey gave her a nudge. "Lead the way."
    Peeved, she stepped inside the small entry
and cast a cautious look around. The place was a disaster.
Apparently he was also discovering whether he missed having a clean
place to live.
    "That boy needs to grow up and clean up or
else hire a housekeeper," Harvey grumbled from behind her.
    Beth cleared her throat and
called, "Oz? Are you home?" Her voice caught on the word home .
    The blinds were drawn in the living room to
her right and the room's heat and darkness created a suffocating
sensation. She pushed her way between the couch and coffee table
which was littered with take-out bags. She opened the blinds and
cranked open a few windows, letting a cool evening breeze enter the
room. She turned to the group who was crowded into the entry acting
similar to a herd of deer caught in a big rig's headlights. "For
crying out loud you guys, come in," she chirped.
    People trickled in, quietly seating
themselves on her favorite velvet couch and standing at the edges
of the room. Framed photos of her