“Hi, Mom, Dad. It’s . . . me. I just wanted to say hello. Nothing important. My accommodations are really nice and the ocean is beautiful.” She shook her head. “I hope everything there is well. Please call if you get a chance. Thanks.” She hesitated. “I love you.”

She stared at the screen after disconnecting as it rang in her hand. It was them.

Dad’s voice sounded distracted as usual. “So, the job is good?”

“Yes. I worked with Ginny before at St. Ambrose, so it was a smooth transition.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

She had told them before, after she accepted the position, but the knowledge obviously hadn’t stuck. A lengthy, awkward silence followed and Faith hated it. Hope had been the conversationalist in the family. She’d brought out all the natural parental instincts in them. They never ran out of things to say with Hope around. But, wow. She’d been gone ten years now. Had it been that long since they had a real conversation? It was one thing to sit in the same room with them and not talk, but to sit on the phone . . .

“So, uh . . . how’s the weather?”

Faith shook her head, her heart hurting. “Warm. Humid. There always seems to be a breeze off the ocean, though, so that’s nice.”

“Right. Right,” he mumbled again after a second. “Well, don’t go swimming alone. We’ll talk again soon.”

She dropped the phone on the couch after disconnecting. The picture of her and Hope stared at her from the mantel, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Tears were already clogging her throat, dampening her eyes. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she bent over and forced herself to breathe through the looming panic attack. Why did her father even bother calling her back? Had he no interest in her life beyond the weather?

A knock sounded on her front door, making her jump.

Staring at the door, she wondered who it could possibly be. She was off for the weekend and had no friends in town. Not that she had friends in Charlotte either. Swallowing hard, she blinked rapidly to clear the signs of distress and went to get the door.

Lacey stood on her doorstep, looking bright and fresh in a blue sundress. Her long blond hair was down around her shoulders, half clipped up on one side. She smiled. “Hey, do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Faith waved her inside. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes.” Lacey sat on the edge of the wicker sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “We just didn’t get to know each other very well the other day at lunch, so I thought I’d come by.”

Well, how . . . unexpected. Nice. “Can I get you something to drink?” Except she didn’t have much because she hadn’t gone shopping yet. That was on the agenda for later.

“No, thank you. Sit with me?” She patted the cushion beside her. “I thought we could talk about Ginny’s art class.”

Relaxing a bit, Faith sat on the other side of the sofa and waited.

“I was thinking Ginny could come to my studio on Tuesdays and Fridays for a couple hours. I’d go over techniques and colors and so on. Maybe work with her on a few mediums until I figure out what she’s best at.”

Faith didn’t want to deter Lacey, but it was entirely possible Ginny might not excel past basic fundamentals. Ginny loved art and was excited about working with Lacey, though. “If that schedule is okay with Mia, it’s okay with me.”

“I already talked with Mia, but wanted to run it by you. I don’t want to mess with your lesson plans.”

The nerves in her belly quieted. “That’s very thoughtful. I can work around that.”

She was actually thinking of dropping Wednesday afternoon lesson plans altogether and incorporating something like home economics. Teach Ginny laundry, cooking, cleaning. Ginny was very open to learning new things and Faith hoped to encourage more independence.

“Great.” Lacey beamed. “Now, for the other reason I dropped by. Mia and I are checking out a new spa tomorrow and we wanted to invite you to come along.”

“Why?” Dang it. She hadn’t meant for that to come out so fast, but Lacey had surprised her. People didn’t just invite her to things like that. Or to anything, really.

“It’ll be fun. With the wedding coming up, I’m trying out a few salons to see who I like best. And while we’re at it, we can get a mani-pedi.”

Oh boy. This was so far out of her league it might as well be Saturn. “I’m not really good at that sort of thing.”

“What thing?” Lacey tilted her head. Realization dawned in her eyes. “You mean the girly stuff? Don’t worry about that. All you have to do is relax and have fun. They do all the work.” Lacey straightened. “Do you ever wear makeup?”

“Only on special occasions. I never learned how to apply cosmetics.”

“Your mom never showed you?”

She shook her head. Mom would be the last person to do such a thing, and by the time Faith was old enough for Hope to teach her, she’d been too sick. Faith’s gym teacher had been the one to educate her on menstruation and sex ed.

“Well, you’re pretty just as you are. I could show you a few things to bring out your natural beauty, stuff that wouldn’t take a long time. And we could get our hair done, too. Maybe shape yours up a bit. You have such beautiful, thick waves.”

Stunned into silence, Faith just stared. Compliments weren’t tossed her way very often, so she never knew what to do with them. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. That would be nice.” And before she knew what she was saying, out came, “I’m used to being in the background. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not comfortable with a lot of attention.”

Her face flamed. She turned away to stare at her hands, hoping Lacey didn’t notice.

“Noted,” Lacey said with a nod. She rose as if ready to leave. “I’d like us to be friends.”

Friends. Another foreign concept. Perhaps this was Saturn. Or maybe Neptune? “Okay.”

“I have a confession,” Lacey said. “I don’t have many friends.”

Faith may have no life, she may be a plain homebody, but she didn’t deserve to be made fun of. Irritation surged, until she looked into Lacey’s eyes and realized she was genuine. Forget another planet. She’d entered an alternate reality.

Lacey walked over to the fireplace and fiddled with the seashells. “I spent most of my life in my mother’s social circles being the belle of the ball and striving for perfection. Cole gave me the courage to break away from that and be myself. I’m still learning. Mia and I just grew close again these last few months. I’d like to get to know you better, too.”

Faith had somehow found the courage to leave home and accept this job offer when everything inside her screamed for the holding pattern she was used to. Why not embrace the choice and take a chance? Otherwise she’d just exist here, like she did in Charlotte.

“Friends.” Not a question, a statement. Something swelled in her chest as she said the word. Not altogether unpleasant.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Lacey’s fingers found the photo of her and Hope. “Who’s this?”

A pang flicked her chest. Friends talk, right? “That’s my sister, Hope.”

“I thought you were an only child.”

“She died just before my seventeenth birthday.” Actually, it was late into the eve of the night before that Hope’s body finally gave out. Twelve-thirty-three a.m.

“Oh, how terrible. So young. Was it cancer?”

In the picture Lacey held, Hope didn’t have any hair. It wasn’t a far leap to assume. Faith nodded.

“I lost my oldest brother in a car accident years ago. It still hurts.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and in her tone Faith heard every ache she herself had been living with.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lacey replaced the picture on the mantel. “I’m sorry for yours, too. She was very pretty.”

Yes, she was. Everything, in fact, Faith could never be. “I spent a lot of time with her between treatments and other things. She was my whole life, so when she died, I didn’t know how to make friends or be around people. I guess you and I are a lot alike in that regard.” She glanced away from the avid interest in Lacey’s eyes. “What time should I be ready tomorrow?”