Island Hopping

Chapter 1

1

I’m not overly surprised when I look out the window and see the n***d, wrinkled, and saggy white butt pointed in my direction. Knowing this is just the woman’s latest antic to try to get under my skin, I refuse to allow it to bother me.

After unlocking and raising my living room window, I yell outside through the screen, “Good morning, Baggy!”

Standing up to her full four feet, eight inches of height, with her pants still around her ankles, the spry little old lady turns around to glare at me. She’s obviously disappointed that her prank didn’t upset me.

Shaking my head, I decide the least I can do is play along with her ornery game. “That’s a good one. You really got me this time, Baggy!”

At this the older woman beams and yanks her pants back up. Raising her fist in the air like she has just won a race, she toddles back down the road towards her house, without giving me another glance. Hopefully, that means she is done badgering me, at least for the rest of the day.

She has been trying for months to punish me for hurting her granddaughter, Roxy. I can’t even get mad at the old lady’s crazy shenanigans because I deserve whatever she dishes out in my direction.

Roxy is my best friend. Or was. We’d been best friends since our first day of preschool. The fact that I stole her fiancé, Gary, the night before her planned wedding to him still doesn’t compute… even in my own mind. It is so far removed from everything I stand for. It’s like I threw the whole ‘sisters before misters’ thing out the window for that brief moment in time. I can’t believe I let that loser kiss me after their rehearsal dinner.

That ill-advised kiss set off a whirlwind of events, including Gary texting Roxy on the actual day of their planned nuptials to tell her the wedding was cancelled because he and I were in love.

The fact that he texted her with this information should have been a major clue to both of us that Gary was not a great catch. Telling her that he and I were in love because I made the mistake of letting him kiss me once is such a wildly preposterous leap that I almost wonder if the man is delusional.

He obviously was looking for any excuse to get out of marrying Roxy, but I wish with all my heart that I hadn’t allowed myself to become his escape route.

The devastating turn of events actually worked out for the best for Roxy. She met the man of her dreams, which is obviously not Gary, and is now madly in love with the hunk from Hawaii. This positive outcome doesn’t negate the fact that my betrayal was wrong. I would love to go back to that night and make it right. That’s obviously not a possibility, so I’m focusing on doing everything in my power to make it up to Roxy and gracefully accepting whatever punishments her sister, Ruthie, and grandmother, Baggy, deem appropriate.

Roxy has, for the most part, forgiven me for the transgression. We’ll probably never be as close as we once were, but she is taking the high road and working to move past the giant rift I created between us.

Ruthie and Baggy, however, are showing no signs of ever forgiving, forgetting, or moving on. Their persistent fury with me hurts a great deal because the two of them had always been like my adopted family.

Roxy and I were so close growing up, that I spent almost more time at the Rose household than I did my own. I had always considered Ruthie to be my pesky kid sister, since I didn’t have any siblings of my own. Although we teased and picked on her, I loved her as fiercely and unconditionally as if she were my sister by blood.

Baggy was in a category of her own. As a toddler, Roxy’s childish version of ‘bad grandma’ had come out of her tiny mouth sounding like Baggy. The moniker was so appropriate that it had stuck. Everyone called her Baggy, not just family. In fact, I have no idea what her given name is. She’s simply Baggy, and it suits her to a tee.

My maternal grandmother passed away at an early age. Since my father bailed on my mother before I was born, I don’t know my paternal grandparents at all. Baggy stepped in from the time I was about five to brilliantly and unconventionally fill that vital role in my life. Although she is often wildly inappropriate and outrageous, I love her with all my heart. It devastates me that she is so angry with me, even though I deserve it.

As I slice a banana for my oatmeal, I sigh and smile as I think about all the crazy things Baggy has done over the years. Her daughter, Caroline, Roxy and Ruthie’s stuffy mother, is constantly yelling at Baggy to behave, as if the younger woman is the parent.

Once my teapot whistles, I pour the hot water into my oatmeal bowl and into my pre-warmed tea mug. Dunking the orange pekoe teabag in the hot water, I realize that tea is such a priority in my life because of Baggy. Whenever any of us girls were upset about something, she was always there with a warm mug of tea and a soft, reassuring hug.

I can feel the tears glistening in my eyes as I realize how much I miss having her sometimes bonkers, always soothing presence in my life. One stupid kiss had lost me a best friend, a sister, and a grandmother. Not to mention the fact that I am now a social pariah in our small town.

The Rose family is beloved by all, and I have managed to alienate them. Until it was gone, I didn’t realize how much of my social standing came from being accepted as an unofficial member of their family.

Biting my lip as I rinse the blueberries for my hot cereal, I try for the thousandth time to think of a way to make it up to them. Roxy claims to have forgiven me, but I know she will never forget what I did. Our relationship will likely never get back to what it was before that life-ruining kiss. Besides, she lives in Hawaii now, so it’s not like we can hang out on a daily basis.

Ruthie and Baggy view my betrayal of Roxy as a personal affront. They are showing no signs of ever getting over it, and I can’t say that I blame them. I wouldn’t be able to forgive someone for hurting my sweet, caring, and wonderful friend, either. In fact, I haven’t forgiven myself, so why should I expect them to do so?

I eat my breakfast without really tasting it. The morning news program is on, but I can’t focus on it. I’m such a fixer at work, it boggles my mind that I can’t carry that talent over into my personal life and make things right with my three favorite ladies (other than my own mother, of course).

Speaking of my mom, I know she is ashamed of my transgression. She hasn’t ever called me out on it, but I can tell that she is disappointed. Being seen with me in public has made her an outcast in town, too, and for that, I am truly sorry. I don’t know what to do to make it up to her, other than to try to earn the forgiveness of Roxy’s family.

Roxy and Ruthie’s parents are civil whenever we bump into each other, but they are even more standoffish than they used to be. They never have been my biggest fans, but they permitted me to be absorbed into the folds of their family as an honored guest. I’m sure they feel betrayed by my mistake too.

The knock at my front door startles me out of my rumination as I rinse out my empty bowl and mug. After drying off my hands with the red and white kitchen towel that reads, Kiss the Cook, which Ruthie gave me as a housewarming gift when I bought this condo a few years ago, I head to answer it.

Already knowing who is probably on the other side and hoping to curb any more of her pranks for the day, I yell, “I have to finish getting ready for work, Baggy.”

Wondering if she had simply ‘ding-donged and dashed,’ or if she had left me an unpleasant surprise, like a bag of flaming dog poop, I fling the door open.

“Oh!” I yell out in surprise at the slick-looking businessman on the other side of the door. Suddenly, I wish that I could be better about being a little more stringent with security, like peering through the peephole before opening my door to strangers.

“Expecting a batty old woman?” The man’s exaggerated smile reveals an abundance of big, white teeth. It reminds me of a cartoon shark.

I am perplexed by how he knows Baggy and a little affronted by what he has called her. His description is perfectly accurate, but my hackles are raised nonetheless.

Feeling annoyed by his obvious arrogance, I snap, “I don’t have time for uninvited guests. Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want.”

My strong, negative reaction to this man surprises me, but I’m in too far to back down now. With a brisk nod, I soften my previous sentiment by adding, “Good day.”

When I try to slam the door shut, he sticks his shiny leather, expensive-looking shoe in the opening to keep the door from fully closing.

I gape at him, stunned by his audacity. As he reaches into his pocket, my first thought is that he might be reaching for a weapon, so I am immediately relieved when he pulls out a business card.

He shoves the card through the opening his foot is demanding. I decide to accept it in the hope that he will then leave.

Glancing down at the thick card stock, I am surprised to see only one line of embossed lettering… ‘T.J. Stone, Producer.’