But she needed something to do. Something to organize, to plan. She smiled slightly. A party. A pool party. A real pool party. The one she’d thrown earlier had been more party and less pool, even though some had taken advantage of the heated water. But a daytime party sounded like more fun. A casual party with burgers or hot dogs on the grill. Or catered again. She mentally went over her list of friends, trying to come up with twenty or twenty-five who would mesh in that casual setting. Memorial Day Weekend was coming up. Could she plan a party in less than two weeks?

She decided she could.

Chapter Eighteen

Laura wiped the sweat from her forehead, wishing she’d started on the flowerbed earlier. She should have started yesterday after she’d finished mowing, but the pool had beckoned—again. In fact, she’d been in the pool every day this week except Tuesday. That’s the day Cassidy’s pool guys came to clean. The only day she hadn’t done any yardwork—either at her mother’s or here—was on Wednesday. She didn’t want to do anything to celebrate her birthday and she’d already told her mother not to make a big deal out of it. Another year older…what was there to celebrate? But she did take the day off from “work.” She had packed herself a picnic lunch and a small cooler for refreshments. She had beer. She had a sandwich. She had wine and cheese. She blasted music from Cassidy’s outdoor stereo. And she had the pool to herself on a blissfully cloudless, windless day. She sang, she floated, she napped. By the time she dragged herself out of the water, she was as limp as overcooked spaghetti. Still in a waterlogged state, she slept as soundly as she had in years. All in all, it was a good birthday.

But her day of play had set her back. Two large planters out by the pool were stuffed with colorful flowers. They looked so nice, she thought she’d get two more, if Cassidy approved. But designing and digging the flowerbeds out front proved to be harder than she’d thought. Actually, she’d been a bit exuberant in her plans, and she was nowhere near finished with either one. Her hands were dirty so she wiped them on her shorts before pulling her phone out to check the time. Just after three. Cassidy usually didn’t arrive until after five, although last weekend it was four thirty. She wondered where she worked that she was able to sneak off early on Fridays. If she lived in the city—with Friday afternoon traffic—she’d be lucky to get here by seven if she worked until five.