One
There were only two reasons to One
There were only two reasons to go to a high school reunion. First, you’d reinvented yourself to the point of envy through riches, love, or some other form of success. The second, and the only reason Jillian Keller was heading into her former high school gymnasium, was to rescue her best friend who went for the first reason but was now, unsurprisingly, regretting her decision.
Jillian didn’t have any horrible memories of attending Ernest Simel High, but it wasn’t a place she’d ever missed either. It certainly wasn’t a place, or time, she wished to go back to. Especially not on a Friday night, twelve years past graduation, to hang with people she’d never really been close to. Besides, it was Smile; every Sunday at the market was a reunion with someone.
In and out, she assured herself after locking her sunshine-yellow VW bug. Hopefully she’d go unnoticed, since she’d gotten the text to rescue her best friend just as she’d started to nudge her daughter, Ollie, over to the other side of her bed—because Ollie had recently decided Jillian shouldn’t sleep alone—and tuck herself in. She didn’t want to be here, and she definitely didn’t want to be seen in her Get Lost hoodie and baggy sweatpants, sans makeup—not that she usually wore a ton—with her auburn hair piled on top of her head.
She heard the music even before she pulled open one of the double doors. A dark blue banner welcomed everyone. Jillian knew her way to the gym even without the arrows and signs reminding former students. Unlike her brothers, she hadn’t spent much time there, other than watching them play whatever sport they were into at the time. She preferred the quiet of the library or the quad with its skylights and bench seating. The bass of the song vibrated beneath her feet, and without warning or reason, nerves tiptoed in. Something about high school. Anyone who went back felt seventeen again. She laughed at her own silliness but didn’t open the gym door. Instead, she grabbed her phone from her hoodie pocket to text Lainey.
Jillian
I’m here. Let’s go.
Don’t make me come in there.
Come on party girl. The night is over.
The door whooshed open, unleashing the scents of too many perfumes and sprays mixed with sweat. A bundle of sequins and color tumbled out in the form of laughing women, hanging on to each other while moving as one huge, bejeweled unit.
Jillian stepped back, letting them pass, aware that her heartbeat was picking up its pace, matching the steady thump of the music. She stared at her phone, silently cursed her best friend, and sucked in a sharp breath like she was about to dive into ice-cold water.
She crossed the gym threshold and it felt like stepping back in time. Lights flashed, music blared, and familiar faces jostled past, some dancing, some laughing, some at the round tables, others holding up a section of the wall as they stared around the room with a drink in hand.
Jillian kept her head down, weaving between groups, hoping people were having too much fun to notice her. She probably should have brushed her hair. Worn something other than sweats. She didn’t mind conversation and enjoyed meeting up with people, but being a single mother had a way of changing a woman’s interests, not to mention her bedtime.
There were so many streamers hanging from the walls it looked like blue-and-white webs of tissue paper interspersed with balloons. People hammed it up for photos behind a large, decorated cardboard cutout frame. Anderson Keddy, a Smile local who did a little of everything, from haircuts to taxiing—and, apparently, taking pictures—waved when they saw Jill. Their shoulder-length brown hair bounced as they directed poses and snapped pictures. A guy Jillian recognized but couldn’t name danced behind the DJ table, pressing buttons on the soundboard, likely controlling the light show making Jillian squint.
It wasn’t until Jillian moved out of the way of a couple forgetting they were in the middle of a crowded gym and not a hotel room that she spotted Lainey.
Her bestie since kindergarten, when Danny “once a jerk always a jerk even if he was good-looking now” Rutherford had pushed Lainey down by the swings after making fun of her lunch. Another girl their age, Kylie Williams, had raced after him when he’d run away, dragged him back by his T-shirt, and forced him to apologize. Jilly, who’d watched the whole thing unfold from the shade where she’d been reading, came over to pick up the lunch containers that had fallen. The three girls had bonded, and despite all of them moving away, two of them moving back, and life getting in the way, they were all still close.
Lainey was no longer a wallflower, though Jillian had never seen her that way. At the moment, she was the life of the party, leading a line of dancers through the crowd like a human snake of pheromones and hair gel. Jillian could only shake her head, letting loose a deep, slightly tired belly laugh. Lainey raised her hand in the air, pretending to yank a chain while yelling “Woot, woot!”
As she passed, Jillian called out, “This does not look like you need rescuing.”
Lainey craned her neck as she led the line away, grinning at Jillian. “Five more minutes, Mom.”
Letting herself slink away from the crowd, she leaned against the wall to text her mom that she’d be back soon. Her parents were traveling later this summer, taking an RV trip with some friends. They were following their favorite band on part of their US tour. It made Jillian laugh to think of her parents like groupies. Her mother and her best friend, who was like an aunt to the Keller siblings, even had shirts made that read: WE GO WHERE THEY GO.
They’d come home midsummer last year after a much shorter trip. When their oldest son, Grayson, acquired the fishing lodge, they’d pitched in to get it in shape and ready to accommodate guests. It was so nice to have her whole family close. Jillian and her two older brothers, Gray and Beckett, got along very well, and both were great with Jill’s daughter, Ollie. So was Beckett’s girlfriend, Presley, whom he’d met at the lodge through a strange set of circumstances. She’d moved to Smile last summer, and Jill enjoyed having another woman her age around. Ollie was just thrilled to have everyone she loved within hugging distance. It’d be hard to watch her parents go, but the lodge and the siblings were in good shape, gearing up for this summer’s season. Jillian’s phone buzzed.
Mom
You could always let your hair down and dance while you wait
Jillian
I didn’t come to get down, Mom. Just to pick up the Bracelet Babe
Mom
You could use a little fun, sweetie
Jillian
I live with a nine-year-old, you, and Dad. My life is nonstop fun.
Mom
I take that back. What you need is a dictionary. Clearly, you don’t know what the word means.
Jillian
Or I could Google it?
Her mom sent her a facepalm emoji that made Jillian laugh out loud before slipping her phone back in her pocket. When she looked up, her gaze caught on the hint of dark hair against a white collar and wide shoulders moving through the crowd.
She rubbed her hands over her biceps in an attempt to tame the strange tingling waking up all of her nerve endings. Weird. He looked like Levi Bright. Just the simple thought of him prompted her mouth to tip up in a smile, her heart to speed up. Haven’t thought about him in a long time. Giving her head a slight shake, she reminded herself that she was here to grab her friend and get out, not get mired down in the past—on the dance floor or in her head. She’d lost more hours than she could count in her teenage years thinking about Levi or writing about him in her diary.
She really needed some sleep. The lodge wasn’t opening for another month. They’d decided to open on the first of June so they could make sure everything was ready to operate at full capacity. This also allowed her to do a trial run of hosting an event there to see if it was feasible. It’d been Jillian’s suggestion to start with a kids’ overnight camp before the end of the school year, because really, were there any judges harsher than eight- and nine-year-olds?
Lainey bounced over to her, bumping her, hard, with her hip. Jillian straightened off the wall, stopped herself from falling.
“You lift weights with your hips or what? You could knock someone out like that.”
Lainey laughed, lifting her long arms in the air and letting her gorgeous, uniquely designed bracelets slide down until they stopped at her elbows.
“These hips can do wonderful things. Come dance,” Lainey said, shaking said hips.
Dressed in a body-hugging red sheath dress with little silver sparkles catching in the rays of the disco light, her friend looked stunning. Six feet tall without the three-inch heels, she had cropped hair that winged out at the ends, accentuating her sharp jaw and cradling her beautiful face. On a regular day, Jillian felt like a shrimp next to her, but tonight, dressed for comfort and bed, she also felt a bit frumpy. She pushed the thought away, blaming the sudden and uncharacteristic moment of insecurity on being in a high school.
“I need to get home. You texted, said ‘save me.’ I’m here.”
Lainey wrapped her arms around Jill. “Like a perfect best friend.”
She pulled back and Jillian caught just a hint of something in her gaze. Enough something to make her skin itch.
“Time to go, right?” Jillian said, taking a few steps forward.
“So, you’ll never guess who’s here.”
Jillian looked around before sending her friend a wry smile. “Most of the 2012 graduating class?”
Lainey bit her lip, a total tell. Jillian’s head whipped around, scanning the crowd. Who else would be here? That lip bite meant Lainey had boxed Jillian into something “for her own good.”
It’d started in their teens when Lainey had “helpfully” arranged for Jillian to have a private goodbye with the aforementioned Levi, who left town at seventeen—to Jillian’s fifteen—to pursue his culinary dreams. Of course, neither of them could have predicted that the goodbye would go down in history as one of Jillian’s most embarrassing moments. Ever. In her life. Though, Lainey’s “help” wasn’t always bad. During a visit after Ollie was born, Lainey secretly blocked WebMD from her phone. That had saved Jill a lot of diagnosing she shouldn’t have been doing anyway. Then there was the time, when they were teenagers, Lainey pretended to hurt her ankle so Jillian would be forced to drive them onto the ferry for the first time. Or, more recently, when she’d convinced Jillian to go for an overnight girls’ trip in Michigan by teasing her with a trip to Costco. Jillian braced herself for whatever her friend had in store. When Lainey continued to smile, her head tipping to the side, Jillian’s skin prickled.
“What did you do? Am I going to have to bury your body or someone else’s on the way home?”
Lainey put an arm around Jilly’s shoulder and looked straight ahead and, like they’d choreographed it, Graham Bennett, a former colleague and friend in the loosest sense of the word, approached. As usual, he wore a soft-looking sweater that highlighted his trim, athletic build. His smile was worthy of a toothpaste commercial and his hair was definitely more styled than her own. He was good-looking, sweet, and nice. And she had absolutely zero interest in dating him. Which Lainey knew.
“Hi, Graham,” Jill said, doing her best not to pat down the nest of hair on her head or appear more awkward than she probably looked.
“Jilly. I was hoping for a dance with you tonight.”
Lainey had stepped to the side as soon as he joined them and was now mouthing, Just do it behind Graham’s back.
“That’s very sweet. I’m not staying, though. I’m sorry.”
The way his smile dropped always made her feel bad, but pretending she had interest when she didn’t would make her feel worse.
Lainey’s eye roll was cut short when Graham turned and shrugged. “We tried. Nice to see you, Lainey.”
Shaking her head, Lainey came back to Jilly’s side as he walked away. “Why do you say no to someone who would bend over backward to make you happy?”
Jill scanned the crowd, looking for the straightest path out, and caught that same glimpse of dark hair and felt immediate awareness. How could she say yes to someone like Graham when just the thought of a man she hadn’t seen in ten years made her stomach muscles tighten and flutter? Or, more importantly, when she knew she couldn’t fully trust someone else until she regained her trust in herself?
“I’m perfectly happy, thank you. Can we go?”
“I don’t mean happy in the overall sense of the word,” Lainey explained as Jillian guided them through the sea of people.
“Of course you don’t,” Jill muttered. “That would be too easy.”
Lainey tripped, knocking Jill off balance, as a lull drifted between songs. It had to be then that her friend added, “I mean happy in the postcoital-glow way.”
Laughter ensued, but only for a second until another song muffled it. Jilly’s stomach burned as she ducked her head and picked up the pace. Just what she needed: people talking about her nonexistent sex life at a high school reunion she hadn’t even attended.
Lainey was repeating “sorry” as they walked and nudged, reaching a door at the side of the gym. Jillian was so focused on getting out, on people not seeing her, that she didn’t know if her friend was apologizing to her or to the people they bumped into on their way.
Lainey hustled beside her, pulling at one of her arms, and made her stop. “Jill. Sweetie. Stop.” She pulled Jill around to face her. “Graham’s a good guy.”
Jillian was on the verge of cranky, but she knew her friend just wanted good things for both of them. “Then you should date him. I’m happy with my life.”
“How happy?” Lainey’s grin, like her personality, was relentless.
Jillian tipped her head up to the dark sky and groaned. “Can we go? Please? Stop worrying about my dating life.”
Lainey walked beside her, bumping her with her shoulder. “Can’t worry about what doesn’t exist. Though, maybe you’re right about Graham. Maybe you’re right to hold out.”
Jillian huffed out a breath as they walked along the side of the school toward the front parking lot. “I’m not holding out.”
Lainey gave her that look again; the one that hinted there was something she knew that Jilly didn’t. Fortunately, Jillian knew better than to open another can of worms.
As they hopped into her beloved VW bug, Jillian’s thoughts returned to Levi, her childhood crush. She wasn’t actually holding out for anyone, but if she were … he’d be the one. Lainey was snoring softly before they even reached her home, but, with Jilly’s help, she roused enough to get into her apartment over her shop.
Jilly didn’t have a direction in mind when she left Lainey’s, but her mind was swirling with a mix of the past and present, and she knew if she went home now, she wouldn’t sleep. She might not have a man in her life but she could, and would, always have pie.
Two
Every town worth its name had a decent pie shop. As the night waitress at Petal’s Pie Palace took her order—decaf tea, a piece of apple (a classic), peach-blueberry (her favorite), and chocolate cream (obvious reasons), Jillian told herself it was okay to indulge. She’d rather have three pieces of pie than a six-pack of beer. She might feel as gross as Lainey tomorrow as a result but it wouldn’t give her a headache.
She glanced around the small shop that was basically a Smile institution, and memories of coming here as a teen drifted lazily through her brain. Petal’s stayed open until the wee hours of the morning for people who needed a delicious, carb-rich snack after a late night at Brothers’ Pub, Lakeview Bar (which wasn’t really much of a bar at all but stayed open until two on the weekends), or unnecessary high school reunions.
The booths were a faded teal color with bubble-gum-pink flecks that, at one time, looked like confetti or sprinkles. Music played softly through the speakers but Jilly knew it came from a Bluetooth speaker rather than the antique jukebox in the corner. The place had the same sort of nostalgic vibe the breakfast diner on Middle Street, Pete’s, did.
The waitress dropped off three plates of pie and asked, again, if anyone was joining her.
“Nope,” Jilly said, pushing down the need to explain herself for ordering three pieces. She could eat a whole damn pie if she wanted. Being a grown-up didn’t come with nearly as many perks as kids thought it did. Ordering as much dessert as she wanted was one of them.
“’Kay,” the waitress said, like the one syllable was all she could handle. She was probably about seventeen or eighteen and it was late, so maybe two syllables was asking too much.
Sliding her fork into the chocolate cream first, she then let the rich flavors burst on her tongue. Was there anything better than pie at nearly one in the morning? Scooping up a bite of peach-blueberry, she smiled, knowing what Lainey’s answer would be.
Copyright © 2025 by Jody Holford.
Sign up for the You Had Me at HEA newsletter!
