Random Acts of Kindness Read Free

Riley and Sydney played the wicked stepsisters. Riley sweated right through the polyester costume, and we spent the whole night teasing her about it—”
    “And after, over pizza, you and I joked about how if we had a wish, we wouldn’t waste it on a pretty dress and a date?”
    Claire nodded. It had been one of many long conversations she and Jenna had shared in the attic of her house, or while lolling on the green in front of the Pine Lake library, or basking on the sun-warmed boards of the dock at Bay Roberts. Jenna confessed that her wish would have been to lose all her painful shyness. Claire couldn’t quite remember what she’d wished for. Probably something foolishly idealistic, like an end to poverty in the world.
    “Well?” Jenna rolled the wineglass between her hands. “What are you wishing for now, Claire?”
    Claire went very, very still, half-expecting to hear the rumbling of the floorboards under her feet along with the tinkling of glasses in the drain and the rattling of silverware in the drawer as the earth shifted beneath her feet. She’d experienced an earthquake once before. She’d rushed outside only to witness a flock of birds rustling out of the trees in noisy confusion, much like the possibilities that now swirled in her mind.
    One of those possibilities gripped her with a strange euphoria, an almost trippy intensity. She felt her pulse race, a sheen of sweat break out on her forehead. How wonderful it would feel to get away from all this, to shuck off the shackles of the label cancer patient and just be Claire Petrenko in the great wide world.
    Then she took a good, long look at her old friend, sweet, trusting, shy Jenna, and realized they would need a very special kind of help to make this work.
    She knew exactly where to find it.
    *  *  *
    Please. Nicole squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of the doorbell. Please don’t be the police.
    Nicole knelt on the floor of her kitchen with her head deep in the gutted dishwasher, holding on to the vain hope that she’d hear the sound of a bedroom door bang open or the clatter of footsteps on the stairs. She was deluding herself, of course. Lars was at work and the kids were out of the house at preseason lacrosse practice. Not that they would have rushed to answer the door, anyway. Over the past eighteen months, they’d all learned that unexpected visitors only brought bad news.
    Her spine knotted one vertebra at a time. Nicole tipped back on her heels and braced herself as she stretched to her full height. She edged her way around the flotsam of plastic and metal dishwasher parts on the floor then walked on soft footsteps through the hallway. She bent to peer through the peephole.
    No blue uniforms.
    She drew away and let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Of course it wasn’t the San Mateo police. For the past two calm, quiet weeks, she hadn’t had to worry about frantic neighbors or impromptu visits from California state social workers or squad cars pulling up to the house at unexpected hours. Yet she was still reacting like a lab rat conditioned to expect an electric shock at the sound of a bell.
    She put her eye to the fish-eye lens and took a better look at the women waiting on the porch. They looked vaguely familiar, but not like any of the social workers Nicole had come to know. The woman in the back was chewing on the inside of her own cheek. Her face was hidden behind a pair of oversize glasses, and she clutched a small, fat dog under her arm. The other had a bohemian look—a loose auburn braid, drugstore sunglasses, and a T-shirt that screamed EARTH FIRST! We’ll strip-mine the other planets later.
    Nicole settled her face into a mask of calm and then mustered the courage to pull the door open. “May I help you?”
    The bohemian gasped. “You’ve cut your hair.”
    Nicole swept her fingers up her neck to where her hair curled at the nape. Any social worker she knew wouldn’t have commented on that. She’d