Lana
If there was ever a day I wished I could disappear into my couch and stay there with a pint of mint chocolate chip, especially on a day like this when the kids were at their grandmother’s who had taken them after Landon’s party because of their mid-term break, it was this one.
But Raina had other plans, even though it was mid-March and the rain could fall at any darn time here in Seattle.
“Get up, woman. We’re going shopping,” she had said over the phone that morning, her voice full of that bossy cheerfulness that made it impossible to say no without sounding like a miserable hermit.
So here I was, hours later, walking beside her in the middle of downtown Fairhaven’s little boutique row, pretending I cared about which shade of lipstick would “make my lips look more dangerous.”
S
