Here's to Friends Read online

  HERE’S TO FRIENDS

  Published by David C Cook

  4050 Lee Vance View

  Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

  David C Cook Distribution Canada

  55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5

  David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications

  Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England

  David C Cook and the graphic circle C logo

  are registered trademarks of Cook Communications Ministries.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes,

  no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form

  without written permission from the publisher.

  This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

  LCCN 2011932487

  ISBN 978-1-4347-6491-1

  eISBN 978-0-7814-0784-7

  © 2011 Melody Carlson

  Published in association with the literary agency of Sara A. Fortenberry.

  The Team: Don Pape, Erin Healy, Amy Kiechlin Konyndyk, Caitlyn York, Karen Athen

  Cover Design: FaceOut Studios

  Cover Images: iStockPhoto #3692091; #10418458

  First Edition 2011

  Chapter 1

  Abby

  Trying to catch her breath, Abby shuffled her way into the women’s locker room, barely able to put one heavy foot in front of the other. Feeling twice her actual age, she eased herself down onto the only unoccupied bench and gazed around the steamy room. Women with firm, sleek, healthy bodies paraded themselves around in various stages of undress as if trying to rub it in.

  Lowering her eyes in defeat, she stared down at her pudgy white thighs and found herself craving cottage cheese. Without a doubt, she had lost her ever-loving mind. Why else would she have allowed Janie and Caroline to talk her into this? And why would she have bragged to Paul about her grandiose plan to join the fitness club?

  “I’m starting tomorrow,” she’d boasted to her husband last night. “After I become a member, I’ll start off by taking … what’s it called? A circuit-something class. I think that’s what Caroline said.”

  “You’re starting with a circuit-training class?” Paul frowned at her. “You sure you want to do that?”

  “Janie and Caroline said it’s really fun—a bunch of women working out together with upbeat music. It’s probably like aerobic dance. I loved doing that back when the girls were little.”

  His mouth twisted to one side. “Yeah, but circuit training is hard work, Abby.”

  “Are you saying I can’t do it?”

  He shook his head. “I’m saying you should start with something easier. When I joined the club, I started with a trainer and a special—”

  “Yeah, well, you were recovering from a heart attack, Paul. I’m in a lot better shape than you were.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “I’ve been walking three or four times a week.” Abby put her hands on her hips. “I’ve even lost a little weight this fall.”

  “Yeah, but starting out with circuit training—”

  “Why do you always have to rain on my parade?”

  “Because I know you, Abby.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning if you start out with something too tough, you’ll give up.”

  “I will not!”

  “I’ll bet you don’t last a week.”

  “I will!” she insisted. “You’ll see. I’m going to join the club and take that class. And maybe I’ll go in five days a week at first, to jump-start things. I could swim on Tuesdays and Thursdays and—”

  “Why don’t you just use that a free one-week coupon I gave you?” he suggested. “Make sure you know what you’re getting into before you plunk down all that dough.”

  “I know what I’m getting into. Janie and Caroline swear by that class. They go three times a week and love it.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. “All I’m saying is that the club is pretty expensive, Abby, and I think—”

  “You think I’m not worth it?” She shook her fist at him. “Sure, it’s fine for you to belong to the club, but poor old Abby doesn’t deserve—”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” His brow creased. “You’re worth it. I just don’t want to see you pay all that money up front and then change your mind.” Of course, he took the opportunity to list all the activities Abby had started but never finished. But instead of falling for that old bait and getting into a ridiculous fight, Abby took their counselor’s advice and the high road.

  “If you love me,” she calmly informed him, “you will support me in this. I’m making a healthy decision for my life, and you should respect that, Paul.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Just take it easy, okay? Don’t kill yourself on the first day. Remember, slow and steady wins the race. Pace yourself.”

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do.”

  But Abby’s plan, like the best-laid schemes of mice and men, had fallen by the wayside after she joined the club and paid her membership fees in the morning. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress anyone in the circuit-training class. She knew better than that. But as she went from station to station, attempting to figure out the confusing machines and determine the realistic weights and master the forms, she understood she’d bought more than she’d bargained for. Trying to stay one step ahead of the perky, energetic woman who followed Abby in the circuit was no picnic either. The petite blonde kept nipping at Abby’s heels. “You know there’s a special class for people who don’t know how to properly use the equipment,” she sniped as Abby untangled herself from one of the machines.

  As she tried to hurry along, Abby decided to call this snippy woman Trixie, after an ill-tempered Chihuahua Abby’s daughters had begged her to get for them long ago. Fortunately Paul got fed up and found the feisty dog another home.

  “Maybe you should try out the pool aerobics,” Trixie said in a snarky tone. “I hear the older ladies really enjoy the slower pace.” She folded her toned arms across her flat abdomen, leaning against a pole and scowling as she waited for Abby to move to the next machine.

  The last straw came about midway through the class. Abby knew it was midway because she’d kept one eye on the lethargic clock the entire time. She’d never seen a minute hand move so slowly. Trixie laughed loudly upon discovering that Abby had been using the biceps machine without weights attached.

  “You gotta be kidding,” Trixie said. “You’ll never get into shape doing that.”

  Fed up and worn out, Abby had released the handle and let the bar slam back into the machine, which she knew was a no-no. Glaring at Trixie, she’d turned on the heel of her frumpy walking shoes and stormed out. No doubt Trixie was hugely relieved. Right now, she was probably telling everyone how hopeless and out-of-shape Abby was, and how fat old women like her should be banned from circuit training and maybe even the entire fitness club. So humiliating.

  At least Caroline and Janie, who were stuck in a bank appointment regarding Caroline’s mother’s estate, hadn’t been there to witness her embarrassment. That was something Abby could be thankful for. What had made her think she could pull off something like this? She felt like crying. Paul was right. She had wasted their money. She really was a failure.

  As she slowly stood, searching the room for some sort of a stall or private area where she c
ould discretely disrobe, she wondered how hard it would be to convince the club to refund her membership fee. Maybe there was some sort of twenty-four-hour cancellation clause. She would have to find out. But first she needed to find a place to change.

  “Excuse me,” she asked one of the only women with clothes on. “Where are the changing rooms?”

  The woman laughed, waving her hand around the open area. “This is it.”

  “Oh.” Abby nodded stiffly. “Yes … okay … I’m new here.” Wondering why she hadn’t noticed the insane lack of privacy during the tour of the club, Abby picked up a white towel from the neat stack and sniffed it. At least it smelled clean. And it was actually rather soft and thick. Nice. As were many of the other amenities that had distracted Abby from noticing the absence of dressing stalls.

  It figured that she’d been too busy checking out things like attractive tile designs and chic light fixtures and rain-shower heads, too distracted by fluff to be concerned with function. She reminded herself that she’d arrived in her workout clothing (which, like her, was out of style and out of shape) and had no need for a changing room then. Really, she should just get over herself and strip down and not worry about what anyone else thought. That’s probably what Caroline and Janie did when they were here—why couldn’t Abby?

  “Janie and I have so much fun at the club,” Caroline had said when the Four Lindas club met last week at the Clifden Coffee Company. Abby, Janie, Caroline, and Marley—who as schoolgirls had all shared the first name of Linda—were discussing their upcoming cruise to Mexico. They talked about spray-on tans, waist-trimming swimsuits, and how they had only six weeks to get into shape. Motivation was high, especially with the holidays upon them. But for Abby, the initial thrill of winning her Mexican cruise for four was quickly turning into high anxiety. She hadn’t purchased a new swimsuit since her three daughters were kids, and the sorry, threadbare thing she wore in the hot tub at home was not fit for public viewing. Neither was her body!

  “You and Marley really should come try out the club,” Caroline urged Abby. “We can get you free passes.”

  “I know,” Abby said. “Paul’s always telling me that.”

  “But if you guys joined, we could do classes together,” Janie said. “We could encourage each other to get fit.”

  “The club’s running a special until the end of the year,” Caroline told them. “If two people sign up, the second membership is half off. You and Marley could split the difference.”

  “I don’t know.” Marley shook her head with a doubtful expression. “I’ve never really been a fitness-club sort of girl. I think I’d rather do yoga or Pilates.”

  “They have those classes too,” Janie told her.

  “Yeah, but I like working out on the beach. I take my iPod filled with my own music and just do my thing. I guess I’m still just a free-spirited hippie at heart. Kind of a lone wolf. Well, except for my Lindas.” Marley smiled. “Count me out.”

  “I wish I had that kind of discipline,” Abby admitted. “Even walking regularly is a challenge for me, unless I have someone to go with me.”

  “That’s why you need to join the club,” Janie insisted. “It’s more fun to work out with your friends by your side.”

  “That’s right,” Caroline agreed. “You can do this, Abby.”

  So Abby had decided to trust her friends and, like the Nike ad said, just do it. But now that she’d “done it,” she was sorry. She should’ve listened to Marley. Even to Paul. Abby should’ve known she wasn’t a “fitness-club sort of girl” either.

  Finally Abby decided that a shower stall could function as a dressing room and shower. Safely behind the translucent curtain, she peeled off her sweat-soaked clothes and dumped them on the floor, where they got drenched while she showered. Relieved to be away from the curious stares of onlookers, she had to admit she was a complete misfit here. That was ironic, because she remembered a time when she was the kind of girl who thought others were misfits, including old friends like Janie (who’d turned into a geek in high school). Not that Abby picked on anyone. But she had been one of the “cool” kids, a cheerleader even. She’d been the kind of girl who never got teased in any locker room.

  Now Janie was fit and beautiful. Someone like Trixie wouldn’t think of picking on Janie. Or Caroline either. As Abby shampooed her hair, she realized that in this club, she wasn’t only a misfit—she was a sideshow freak. She could probably charge admission. Maybe that would help to recoup her wasted membership fee. Because she knew she was never coming back here. Never.

  That’s how Abby comforted herself as she took a very long shower, utilizing endless hot water and generous handfuls of the club’s luxurious soaps and shampoos. At least she’d get some of her money’s worth! By the time she finished, she felt marginally better and squeaky clean. As she dried off, feeling a bit more like her old self, she was almost rethinking her previous resolution to become a fitness-club dropout on the very first day.

  But as she attempted to wrap the fluffy white towel around her fluffy white body, she was reminded of reality. The towel was too small! Staring at the six-inch gap where the ends of the towel refused to come together, she wanted to scream. What is wrong with this place? Can’t they afford bigger towels? Or perhaps this was the club’s subtle message. They didn’t want any overweight, out-of-shape, fitness-challenged people to join their ranks. Of course, that was why it was called a “fitness” club. You had to be fit to join. Perhaps what Abby needed was an unfit club—a place with queen-sized towels, easy-to-use machines, no skinny naked bodies, and donuts! A place where someone like Abby would fit in.

  Finally, struggling to hold the loose ends of the towel as well as her soggy workout clothes, Abby emerged from the shower stall and made her way back toward the locker area. The room was a bit less crowded now. At the lockers, she dropped her wet clothes on the tile floor, still trying to cover her backside with the mini-towel as she extracted her clothes from her locker. Then she went to a relatively quiet corner. Just a few feet away, two partially dressed young women chatted amicably over the pros and cons of—give me a break—colon cleansers. Huffing and puffing, Abby bent over, hurriedly tugging her clothes onto her still-damp body, trying not to listen to the sordid details of these women’s bathroom habits.

  As Abby sat down to put on her shoes, she also tried not to stare at the young brunette who had just stepped up to the sink area. Wearing nothing but a contented smile and some very skimpy panties (or maybe just dental floss), this woman positioned herself in front of the brightly lit mirror. Happily blow-drying her short hair, she seemed oblivious to the fact that she was only two feet from the door, and that anyone in the hallway on the other side would see her standing there, topless, if it swung open. Was the girl nuts, or simply an exhibitionist, or maybe a porn star?

  Maybe Abby was a prude or old-fashioned or just plain uncomfortable in her own flabby skin, but she just did not understand this sort of thing. She had raised her three daughters on the principles of modesty and propriety and sensibility, and she hoped they knew better than to run around buck naked in public.

  The door flew open, and Caroline and Janie burst into the locker room. “There she is!” exclaimed Caroline. They didn’t even give the nearly naked brunette a second glance as they came over to join Abby.

  “So how was it?” Janie asked Abby. “Are you sore yet?”

  Abby shrugged. “A little.”

  “Wow, you’re fast,” Caroline observed. “The class only got out a few minutes ago. How’d you even have time for a shower?”

  “Because she skipped out on class,” someone announced from behind them.

  Abby turned to see Trixie swinging a sweat towel in one hand and looking smug.

  “Hey, Serena,” Janie said in a friendly tone. “How’s it going?”

  Trixie, aka Serena, smiled at Janie. “Pretty
good. I had a nice little workout.” She wrinkled her nose. “Unlike some people.”

  Caroline frowned at Abby. “Did you really skip out on the circuit class?”

  “I did half of it,” Abby assured her. “A full thirty minutes. Besides, Paul warned me to take it easy today.”

  “You can take it easy and still do the full hour,” Janie explained. “Just go slower and—”

  “Go slower?” Abby growled. “When you’ve got a Chihuahua nipping at your heels?”

  Janie frowned. “There were dogs in the class?”

  “Just the female kind,” Abby retorted.

  “Huh?” Caroline looked confused.

  “Never mind.” Abby picked up her wet workout clothes, wondering what to do with them.

  “What happened?” Caroline pointed at the soggy mess.

  “Did someone hose you down?” Janie asked wryly.

  “No.” Abby held her head high. “I was multitasking.”

  “What?” Janie studied Abby curiously.

  “Changing, showering, and doing my laundry,” Abby proclaimed. “All at the same time.”

  Caroline laughed. “Hey, I saw that on Seinfeld once. Kramer was—”

  “Never mind.” Janie chuckled like she’d seen that episode. “Back to the circuit training,” she said to Abby. “It’s better to do the full hour and just go slower and use lighter weights and—”

  “Lighter weights?” Trixie snickered. “Like that would even be possible.” She’d already stripped down to her underwear, revealing a set of abs that would make a six-pack jealous. “She wasn’t using any weights.”

  “Really?” Janie looked disappointed.

  “Oh, don’t pick on her,” Caroline said. “At least she showed up. That’s the first step.”

  “That’s true,” Janie conceded. “Getting started is always rough, Abby. At least your first day is behind you now.”

  Abby made a weak smile as she dumped her wet clothes into her gym bag, right on top of her shoes. She’d sort that mess out later. Mostly she just wanted out of this place.