Authors: Rhonda Helms
For the next twenty minutes, I explained the facts. He didn’t say a word, just let me ramble on. I was proud of the fact that I kept my calm and didn’t break down in tears, the way I often did when I thought about Mom anymore. But something about his cool demeanor made me respond similarly.
I could see why Natalie disliked him so much. He was blunt, but not in the cheeky way Bianca was. Though I had to admit, he was quite attractive. And Bianca had said his family was respectable. I’d have to trust her on this.
When I finished telling him everything, I sighed and sat back in the chair. “So can we find her?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. Your mom isn’t a con artist. She’s not a pro at going off the grid, so there will be traces of her somewhere. A credit card charge, a phone call, an email or text we can trace. We just need to figure out where to start.” He paused to scribble something on the paper. “Okay, I think I have enough info here to work on, but I’ll call if I need more.”
“How long do you believe it’ll take?”
“As long as it takes. Unfortunately, there’s nothing concrete I can tell you. But I promise that I’ll work hard. Haven’t blown a case yet.”
I stood and stuck out my hand. It seemed like the professional thing to do. “Thanks. And I appreciate you working with me on payment. As you can guess, things are kind of tight right now.”
His shake was firm and confident. “No problem. I’ll be in touch as soon as I find a lead.”
As I departed the old home and sat on my bike, I realized something. That tight knot of stress that had been festering in my stomach since the beginning of September was starting to fade. Yeah, Kyle was young, but I trusted that he was going to work hard and do whatever magic he did to find her.
I could let that worry go for now and concentrate on other things. Like buying as much food as possible for thirty bucks.
A car full of teen boys flew by me and honked with loud hoots as they passed. I stuck up my middle finger and kept going toward the grocery store. No bike rack there. Fabulous. Should I lean the bike against the wall or go park it at a nearby rack and walk back here?
Yeah, I knew Edgewood Falls was a safe, small town, but old habits died hard. Anything you didn’t lock up in New York City was gone. So I went a couple of blocks away, found a bike rack, then locked it up and headed to the store again.
Warm air whooshed over me when I stepped through the double doors. Grandmas and moms pushed food-laden carts down aisles, mumbling to themselves and clutching handfuls of coupons. Where the hell did people find coupons anyway? That would be my next quest.
I whipped out my handy list, grabbed my own cart and made my way toward the vegetable section.
Ten minutes later, I was ready to burst into frustrated tears. Why was everything so damn expensive? My earlier grocery trips hadn’t been this difficult. Then again, our food budget was a lot smaller now. Fresh anger welled in my gut, but I swallowed it down then crammed the useless list into my purse.
Okay, I simply needed to adjust my expectations. And maybe find a job as a high-priced call girl or drug dealer or something.
So much for my nothing-illegal statement to Bianca. That made me chuckle and shake off the threatening edge of darkness. I wove my cart down each aisle, searching for the cheapest products I could find. It was gonna be essentials only, and if Dad didn’t like it, he could suck it. I had as of yet to see him get a job, and I was gonna be taking on three now. Which reminded me, I needed to up my nagging until he did. I couldn’t carry this family on my shoulders.
Peanut butter, bread, pasta, pasta sauce, tuna, mayo. Good start and less than half my allotted funds for food. We needed a bit more though, so I grabbed a box of frozen fish filets, three boxes of mac and cheese, hot dogs, bologna and sliced cheese.
Nothing fancy, but it would do.
When I reached the candy aisle, I stopped and stared. Three months ago, I’d have grabbed a candy bar without a second thought. But it would push me out of my budget.
Shame gripped my lungs tight as I recalled a conversation I’d had with Fiona at a spa this past summer. We’d been lying there, getting body wraps and drinking mimosas, making fun of people who rushed to the store the first of the month with their welfare checks.
How little I knew then about the struggles of working-class people. I was glad Natalie hadn’t been there to hear me. Or Bianca. I’d hate for them to know how thoughtless I’d been before all of this.
I moved away from the candy, got in the checkout line then laid my food on the conveyor belt. As I saw the spread, I bit my lip. How the hell was I going to get all of this home? I hadn’t planned that far. Boy, it was gonna be an awkward ride on my bike.
“For a lunch lady, you eat a lot like a bachelor,” a husky voice said from a few feet behind me.
My heart gave a painful thud, and I turned to see Gavin, mouth turned up in a wicked smile. I laughed in an attempt to divert attention from the heat flooding my cheeks at the sight of his sexily mussed hair and bedroom eyes. “I can’t cook worth a damn, but I’m a helluva food scooper.” I eyed his food on the conveyor belt right behind mine. Huh, his small grouping of purchases looked a lot like my stuff. Guess he was right.
He shrugged without looking the least bit apologetic. “I can’t cook either.”
“Good afternoon,” the young cashier greeted me as she started swiping my goods.
My muscles tensed as each item ran across the scanner. I’d done the calculations on my phone, including tax, to ensure I didn’t run over, but I was still a bit nervous. I couldn’t afford to have any bill payments bounce by overspending. And I didn’t want to do that mortifying thing where you had to put food back if you ran over what you were supposed to spend.
My last grocery trip had required me to do so, but thankfully, I hadn’t known the people around me.
“Twenty-nine dollars and eighty-eight cents,” the girl declared, and I almost sagged with relief as I handed her my debit card then started throwing stuff in plastic bags.
“You’re gonna squish your bread like that,” Gavin said with a laugh. He stepped over and helped me get the food sorted into several bags.
I swallowed as I caught a whiff of his cologne. The urge hit me to lean closer, nuzzle my nose right under his ear and breathe deeply. The man smelled like sex and heat and all those delicious things you wanted to savor. “Thanks.”
I got my receipt, loaded the bags on my arms and waddled through the double doors, the chilly air smacking me in the face. I couldn’t believe it was end of October already. Halloween was in a couple of days, and I needed to find money to get candy for handing out.
My hands and forearms began to ache as I gripped the bags and made my way toward the bike. Okay, this wasn’t my smartest idea ever. Next time, I was going to ask Natalie to give me a ride. Her car was a bit of a beater, but at least she had one. Unlike me.
A nondescript navy blue car slowed beside me, and when I glanced over, I saw Gavin in the driver’s seat. “Need a ride?” he asked as he peered through the passenger-side window at me. “Where are you parked?”
I cleared my throat and fought the embarrassed flush crawling up my cheeks. “I have a bike. It’s right down the road here.” My arms trembled, and I shifted the bags.
“Let me help, please.” He stopped and jumped out of the car before I could say a word, grabbing the bags from my hands.
“Really, you don’t have to,” I sputtered.
He ignored me and got the ones on my arms then opened the passenger-side door. “Where do you live? We’ll drop these off, then I’ll take you back to your bike.”
My heart clenched at the kind gesture. Really, I wasn’t sure how I was gonna get all of this home anyway. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” I gave him my address, and a few minutes later, we pulled up in front of my duplex.
I leaped out and ran to the back of the car, and when he popped the trunk, I grabbed as many bags as I could, but he took the rest and followed me to the door. I keyed it open and led him inside as I tried not to be embarrassed about our less-than-stellar residence. I was acutely aware of the peeling paint in the hallway that I hadn’t finished patching up yet, the faded furniture, the undecorated walls.
“I love the fresh paint in here,” he said as he set his bags down on the kitchen table. “Good color choices.”
I blinked and faced him after I unloaded my own bags. “Thanks. We just painted it last weekend.”
“Ready to go back for your bike?”
“I can walk,” I replied.
He took a step closer, and his eyes darted to my mouth for a fraction of a second before locking on to my eyes. “I insist. It’s no bother at all.”
The ride back to the bike was filled with a hum of tension. I couldn’t help but watch the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the angle of his jaw, the long stretch of his legs. Everything about him was purposeful, methodical. So, so wrong to study him this way. I knew it was bad and I couldn’t stop myself.
He stopped the car where I told him to. I moved to get out then paused. Grabbing a dollar out of my purse, I handed it to him with a grin I hoped looked sassy and casual. “A tip for your stellar service.”
To his credit, he didn’t say a word. Just folded it in half on the long side, stuffed it into the pocket of his shirt like a stripper would do and then gave me a wink.
I burst into laughter and got out of the car. “Thanks again.”
The whole ride home, I couldn’t get those sexy eyes out of my mind. Gavin had worked his way under my skin, and it was harder and harder to tell myself I wasn’t interested in him.
I hated plumbing.
Twenty minutes after the plumber left, I was still staring at the kitchen sink in disgust. Stupid landlord—that plumbing issue had gotten worse and I’d told him, but he said it wouldn’t be fixed until the middle of November. By then, our duplex would be floating in inches of water.
So I’d grabbed my phone, gone online and tried to research how to fix it myself. Seemed simple enough from the videos. But I’d ended up bunking it up. Badly. Water had gushed from the sink in an unstoppable flow, much to my horror.
Thankfully, a plumber had been able to come by and fix it—and even more thankfully, he’d taken pity on me and not charged me weekend rates, which were astronomical.
I moved to the couch and rubbed my aching feet. This week had been crazy busy. The office cleaning was going well; Bianca and I had worked out a system so we got in and out of the offices in record time. But it was still tiring. And last night I’d done some pizza deliveries, running around town on my bike while bearing a pizza bag over my back. The work wasn’t the most fun ever, though I did enjoy having tip money.
However, some great news from this week had made everything better—one, our condo had a legit offer good enough for us to pay off the mortgage, buy out Mom’s portion of the place (based on advice from the family attorney), sock aside a chunk of money to live on for a few months
and
buy a cheap car.
Soon, I could retire this bike to the garage and be back to driving. It was going to be total bliss, and I didn’t even care how crappy the ride would be. A real car, powered by fuel and not my legs.
The other piece of good news was Dad had found a job on Tuesday—he was painting houses with an old buddy from when we’d lived here before. In fact, Dad was at a job site this evening, working on the interior of a sprawling home over the next couple of weeks. Of course, now when he got home, he practically fell right into bed, exhausted. But it was work, and we were both glad our situation was improving.
I got up to put on yoga pants when the doorbell rang. Had the plumber forgotten something? I opened the door and saw Bianca and Natalie standing there with massive grins on their faces.
“We’re taking you out,” Natalie declared. “So put on something cute.”
My stomach sank in disappointment. “Guys, I’d love to, but I had to just pay a plumber to fix a stupid mistake I made and I can’t afford it right now. Maybe next weekend?” By then, I’d have another paycheck and could free up a few bucks for coffee.
“We’re paying,” Bianca said as she shoved her way in. She had on an old punk band T-shirt and a pair of leopard-print pants, and her dark hair was twisted in a retro pinup style. “And we won’t take no for an answer.”
I shook my head. “I can’t keep taking money from you all.”
“It’s not taking,” Natalie said gently as she led me into the living room. “It’s friendship. We want to spend time with you. And you need to get out of this house. It smells like bologna and desperation.”
A laugh slipped out of me. “Yeah, I had a lazy dinner.”
“So it’s settled.” Bianca went into my room, and I heard my closet doors open. “Oh wow, those shoes are hot. I’m so jealous. I need to borrow these sometime. They’re close enough to my size that I can make it work.”
I walked in there with a grin. I knew exactly which ones she was talking about—my sassy red heels. I couldn’t bear to part with them. Not that I’d had an occasion to wear them around here. “What are we doing, anyway?”
Bianca stuck her head in my closet then backed out with a skin-tight bright green shirt she thrust at me in triumph. “Wear this paired with flats and skinny jeans. It’s perfect.” She grinned. “We’re going bowling.”
If my friends in New York City could see me right now, they’d die laughing. Even as I had that thought while slipping on a pair of bowling shoes, my mind stumbled. Were they my friends anymore? It had been almost two months since I’d moved, and the contact had all but stopped, despite my efforts to send somewhat regular updates. Even Fiona had moved on; I barely rated a response nowadays, other than the occasional braggy picture.
The dismissal hurt, truth be told, but I tried to not focus on it. Well, whatever. If nothing else, this whole situation with my mom had taught me the value of real friendship—it was in these two girls sitting beside me, laughing and talking with me about how much fun we were going to have.
And they were right. I hadn’t been to this bowling alley—or any, in fact—since fifth grade, but right now I didn’t care if I looked dumb or unskilled. I was desperate for fun. A night with the girls was exactly what I needed.