Table of Contents
Nonfiction Titles by New York Times Bestselling Author Jen Lancaster
Bitter Is the New Black
Bright Lights, Big Ass
Such a Pretty Fat
Pretty in Plaid
My Fair Lazy
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephens Green, Dublin 2,
Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
First published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, May
Copyright Jen Lancaster, 2011
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARKMARCA REGISTRADA
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA:
Lancaster, Jen, 1967
If you were here/Jen Lancaster. p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-51447-4
1. SuburbsIllinoisChicagoFiction. 2. DwellingsRemodelingFiction. 3. Women authorsFiction. 4. MarriageFiction. 5. Chicago (Ill.)Fiction. I.Title.
PS3612.A.6dc22 2011003171
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHERS NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated.
http://us.penguingroup.com
For the man who defined a generation.
Godspeed, Mr. Hughes.
Authors Note
Dear Reader,
This is not a true story, but was inspired by our adventures in suburban real estate. However, we quickly came to our senses and realized that buying a crumbling home by the lake was an incredibly stupid, potentially hazardous, ridiculously expensive, and almost-certain-to-end-our-marriage idea.
We did not purchase the house in this book.
We moved elsewhere.
This didnt occur.
(Yet.)
XO,
Jen
P.S. I feel its important to note here that I love Stephenie Meyer. This might not make sense now, but it will later, I promise.
Prologue
I blame HGTV for what happens next.
Chapter One
THERES SOMETHING ABOUT ORNESTEGA
No. No. Oh, hell , no.
Im standing upstairs in my office when I spot someone in an oversize hoodie and low-slung pants paint ORNESTEGA in puffy silver letters on the flat red bricks of the building across the street.
Which is a church .
I imagine the Lord probably has His own way of dealing with little thugs who deface houses of worship, but I cant just stand here waiting for Him to scramble a swarm of locusts or turn rivers to blood. I imagine Hes got a lot on his plate right now, what with war, poverty, the Sudanese situation, and all those reality-show contestants asking for His divine guidance as they navigate their way through the obstacle course and into the Jell-O pit.
The other thing is, if He does take notice and sends down hail mixed with fire, its going to ruin my lawn. I think sometimes God expects us to act as His emissaries; ergo, I will fix this.
I press the indoor talk button on the intercom system. Mac! Maaaaac! Theres a tagger outside and ... Before I can even finish my sentence, my husband, Mac, has exited his basement office/lair and flown across the street.
When it comes to wrongs that need righting, Mac fancies himself a modern-day Batman. I mean, if Batman were pushing forty, with a hint of spare tire around his waist, seven gray hairs, and a job in middle management for the phone company. The truth is hes more like Dilbert, only with a fully stocked arsenal.
Back in college, after we became friends, but before we started dating, Mac appointed himself my personal bouncer. Mac thought I was too hung up on being polite, so Id always find myself cornered by some asshole I couldnt graciously escape whenever Id go out. After Mac stepped in, woe be to any guy who hit on me or hassled me, because Mac was right there at my back. Eventually my friend Ann Marie pointed out that I could doand had donea lot worse than dating someone so anxious to keep me safe and happy, and weve been together ever since.
Anyway, despite the sixty tons of brick and cement block that comprise our houses exterior walls, and regardless of the soundproofed, supersealed, triple-hung windows, I can still hear every syllable of profanity Mac hurls at the aspiring gangbanger. I quickly search for some footwear, because I dont want to run barefoot into the snow to monitor the situation. My dog Duckie has the bizarre and annoying habit of taking one shoe and hiding it under the covers, so I have to tear through the unmade bed to find my flannel clogs mate. As soon as I can, I dash downstairs and outside just in time to witness ... nothing.
Macs cheeks are flushed and he cant suppress his smile. Ive never met anyone who enjoys an altercation as much as this man. Mia, you should have seen that little bastard try to get away in those pants. He pretty much hobbled himself. Looked like he was running a potato-sack race. By the way, he disappeared into that building. He jerks his finger toward the dilapidated apartments a few doors down. I hate that complex; they cut their grass only twice last summer, both times at six a.m. on Sunday. Apparently hes our neighbor.
