Chapter Three
Carly’s smile didn’t last long. In fact, it faded the minute she left her parent’s condo and headed downtown. Her thoughts immediately fixated on her loneliness as she walked down bustling Wentworth Avenue. She was single and thirty on a summer Friday night. Where was her exciting life? And why had things taken such an abruptly bad turn, which lead her right back to Della instead of leading her down a church aisle to become Mrs. Greg Warner? She should be planning a wedding right now, not scheduling pest control specialists and temporarily living with her parents.
Carly paused in front of “Harley’s Five-and-Ten Cent” store, where an old-fashioned dollhouse in the window caught her eye. As a little girl, she dreamed about living in a big house like this three-floored Victorian replica, complete with antique furniture, lace curtains and a wooden, ready-made family. But she just couldn’t seem to win both the house and the family. Why did complete fulfillment elude her? She once had Greg, but not the house. Now she had the house, but no chance in the near future of filling it with a loving family.
Carly peered into the tiny living room. Father Wood sat reading a newspaper on the couch and smoking a pipe. Mrs. Wood stood cheerfully in the kitchen, posed by the sink, a smile painted on her face, her hands thrown into the air as if taunting Carly. Look, Carly! No spider or plumbing problems in my home! Upstairs, Baby Wood slept peacefully in a decorated nursery while Dog Wood lay next to the crib. Carly bet Dog Wood never went crazy during thunderstorms.
She looked away from the window and sighed. Window browsing certainly wasn’t helping her feel better. Looking across the street, she spied Bubba’s Ice Cream Shoppe. Ah…a chocolate-chip-mint banana split with hot fudge sauce and whip cream beckoned. Carly knew the treat wouldn’t exactly solve any long-term problems, but it might help curb her desire to set the entire happy Wood family on fire.
She was halfway to dairy bliss when a red convertible sped around the corner and nearly hit her. Carly jumped back on the curb, and silently cursed the blond, woman driver. The convertible slowed at the end of the street, did a U-turn and pulled into a diagonal parking stall in front of her.
“Carly?” The suntanned driver with a long, golden ponytail waved frantically at her and motioned over to the car. “Carly! It’s me! Sunny!”
“Sunny” removed her sunglasses and stood halfway up. Her thin, spaghetti-strap, light-blue tank top and all that it held, confirmed for Carly that this was indeed the Sunny Willoughby she went to high school with.
“Come on, get in!” Sunny beckoned her over with a wave.
Carly looked up and down the street for other options. Running away was her best bet, but she was pretty sure Sunny and her convertible could catch her.
She walked tentatively towards her. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Cause you look mostly like you did in high school, except you changed your hairstyle and gained weight.”
Gee thanks. Carly self-consciously ran her hand through her reddish brown hair. “Well, my hair is a lot longer now, and highlighted and um, of course, I don’t run track anymore.” Which would explain the first ten pounds. The second ten are due to my late night rendezvous’ with my new lovers, Ben and Jerry, thank you very much.
“Also your mother told me I might find you here.” Sunny reached over and opened the passenger side door. “Get in, let’s go for a ride.”
Carly didn’t move. “You talked to my mom? But how? She’s playing Bingo at St. Agnes’s.”
“So was I.”
“You play Bingo?” Carly couldn’t have been more shocked if Sunny announced her candidacy for president. The Sunny she remembered from years past was more likely to be found in a strip club than a Bingo hall.
