Another Piece of My Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

garden. “Where are you off to?”
    Andi, about to go for a hike in Madrone Canyon, changes course and walks across the front lawn, stepping over the low rosemary hedge, into Drew’s garden, and bends down to plant a kiss on his cheek.
    “Hello, love.” He stands up slowly, hands on his back. “God, I hate getting old,” he groans, stretching. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you spoken to your friend Isabel?”
    “Don’t you mean, your friend Isabel?” Andi grins. Isabel is a childhood friend who landed in San Francisco a year or so before Andi. They bumped into each other one night in a restaurant, and despite not having seen each other for years, are now firm friends.
    They don’t see each other as often as either would like but have enough of a shared history for that not to matter. Months can go by, and when they do get together, it is just as easy and comfortable as if they had seen each other yesterday.
    When Isabel excitedly announced she was marrying her long-term boyfriend, Greg, she asked Andi whether she knew of any great venues. Andi didn’t, but she knew a man who would.
    Drew not only found Isabel the perfect spot to get married, he has also ended up organizing the entire event, and, as a result, is now best friends with Isabel.
    “ Our friend,” Drew says. “How’s that? Is she happy? Does she like what I’ve picked for the lanterns?”
    “Like? She loves ! If it makes you feel better, she cannot stop talking about how beautiful everything is and how incredible you are!”
    “It makes me feel better,” he says, suddenly peering more closely at Andi. “You look like you had a rough night. Is everything okay?” Andi shrugs, is about to say everything’s fine, but her expression gives it away.
    “Come inside, love. Let’s have a coffee. Or vodka perhaps? You look like you need it.”
    “You have no idea,” Andi says, gratefully following him inside.
    *   *   *
    When Andi first moved into Ethan’s house, next door there was a crotchety old couple who wasn’t the slightest bit interested in being friends with Andi or Ethan and seemed to hate all children, particularly ones whose screaming could be heard across the neighborhood.
    Andi still feels guilty at being relieved when they died. Mr. Whitehall died a few months after they moved in, shortly followed by Mrs. Whitehall, and the house was put up for sale.
    No one wanted the 1930s cottage, which was unsurprising given that it was like a miniversion of Grey Gardens, but without the cats. Litter was piled up everywhere, it was filthy, and broken. Everyone who came in was horrified.
    The Realtors tried to persuade the Whitehall children that they would need to put a little money in to sell it, but the children were as unpleasant as the parents and too busy fighting over probate to want to contribute a penny, even to do the bare minimum to help facilitate a sale.
    The house sat for months, and this was when the market was high. Everything else was selling, but no one could see past the years of neglect, until Drew. He arrived first, a former art director for a huge ad agency and now househusband with a spectacularly good eye, and saw, immediately, what it could be.
    His long-term partner, Topher, came that evening, and despite his horror trusted Drew. On the plus side it was well below their top limit. It would mean they wouldn’t be house-poor, they could buy the house, do it up, and still be able to head to Bacara for their regular rest and relaxation.
    Andi brought them chocolate-chip cookies when they moved in, dying with curiosity about who had bought the house.
    She caught a glimpse of Drew one afternoon—his six-foot-two frame and handsome, Spanish features hard to miss—and felt they might be friends. When they opened the door—Drew first, an expectant but warm smile on his face, with Topher, a cool blond prepster in khakis, a Ralph Lauren cashmere sweater wrapped around his shoulders, behind him, she knew she was