I roll my eyes.
“What happened to Paris?”
Tia’s a professional photographer. She travels all around the world to the most visually pleasing places. It’s her dream job, combining what she loves doing the most: photography and traveling. It’s why we never really see much of each other.
Tia went to New York for college while I stayed close to home at the University of Illinois. After college, she stayed in New York while I moved to LA. She visits home whenever she can, though, and I’m guessing now is one of those times.
When I talked to her a few weeks ago, she was in Paris.
“I left about a week ago. I would have been here sooner but I was still recovering from the jet lag. I heard about everything from your mom,” she informs me as I lead her to one of the chairs.
We take a seat and I signal for one of our part-timers to serve us some juice.
“My mom talked to you?” I ask with a frown.
Tia’s like my parents’ second daughter. Her parents got divorced when we were in our teens, and even before then, Tia would come over to my house whenever her parents were fighting. They weren’t bad people, but they were certainly not the best parents. Her father moved away and practically cut off contact after the divorce. Her mom still lives beside my parents, though. She’s a quiet woman, content with the knowledge that her only daughter is safe and happy.
“Yeah, she called me when I landed and told me everything. I figured I would come here and offer some support,” she tells me, her blue eyes sympathetic.
“Speaking of support,” she says rolling her eyes when our high school nemesis Rashida walks in.
“Christine Lawson and Tia Baily, the town’s sellouts right here before my very eyes. I heard you ladies were in town and I just had to come see for myself. I mean, big-city girls like you in our small town of Arcola—to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Rashida, I see you’re still the same old you,” I say, trying my best to force a smile across my face.
“Oh, I hear your husband is running for mayor,” Tia says. “Good luck.”
“Well, we don’t really need luck now, do we? He’s the best man for the job,” she says confidently.
Rashida is a gorgeous, busty brunette. I’m not sure if it’s her intention to be a die-hard bitch or if she’s just been programmed that way because her mother is the same way—the one who must outdo everyone at the bake sale, dress the best at every event, and throw the fanciest parties
“I love what you’ve done with the place in the short time you’ve been here, Christine. What do you plan to do when my brother-in-law tears it all down?” she asks.
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? Well, I guess I’ve said too much, then. I’m sure his people will be in touch. Just came by to get a latte and a few treats for my book club meeting later. I admit, I will miss this place and hope you find somewhere else in Arcola to put it,” she says, walking to the cashier to place her order.
They’re tearing down the building?
My parents had been trying to buy it for years since we’ve been operating our coffee shop here but the owner wasn’t willing to sell. Now they just want to tear it down. What the hell am I going to do? Tia tries to comfort me, but I barely have my thoughts in order so there isn’t much she can say to help right now.
“I don’t really want to talk about all that. Let’s talk about your Paris boyfriend instead,” I say in a bid to change the subject.
Tia raises an eyebrow but she rolls with it.
“We broke up, Chrissy. I left Paris, ergo, end of relationship.”
Tia’s an eccentric person. She’s unpredictable, fun, and prone to heavy drinking and endless partying. But she’s also sweet and loyal and beautiful. Like me, she’s fallen in love a lot of times, but once the men she dates see through the fun-loving party girl and realize she’s a romantic at heart who wants more than they’re willing to offer, heartbreak becomes imminent.
Unlike me, though, Tia keeps trying. She firmly believes that she’ll find some man who will wind up ass-over-fingers in love with her. She can be a dreamer; I’m a realist. It’s what makes our friendship work so well.
I smirk. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“Regardless, I’m back, baby! I’m on vacation and you’re not a lawyer anymore—think about all the fun we’re going to have when you’re too broke to get sued,” she says excitedly.
“Okay, first off, I’m still a lawyer. I will always be a lawyer. Plus, unlike you, I have to work. I own this place now, remember?”
Tia blinks before looking around the shop.