by Kristy Tate
“Must be your Aunt Cordie’s doing, then.” He shook himself. “Never mind. My point is you’ve had little time to sample life’s varied pleasures. There’s more to life than one filet.” He slammed his hand down on the desk. “There’s shrimp. Salmon. Abalone.” His face turned a scary shade of red. “And what about lasagna?”
“I’ve found the girl I want. I’m not interested in a sampler plate.”
Weatherford leaned back in his chair, picked up a pencil, and wagged it in his son’s face. “You and I, we’re both scientists, yes?”
Zane nodded.
“Then let’s try a little experiment, shall we?”
An icy shiver ran down Zane’s spine. “What kind of experiment?”
“I’m supposing that this girl is more interested in your money than in you.”
“Dad.” Zane sat up, insulted. “She’s not like that.”
Weatherford held up his hand. “Okay. Let’s put her to the test, then, shall we?”
“No.”
“Why not? Are you afraid of the outcome?”
“No,” he said again, with less emphasis.
His dad placed his elbows on his desk, his expression shrewd. “Tell her you’ll marry her—this week even, if you must. But if you marry her, I cut you off financially. Going forward, you’ll have nothing from me but your clothes and the money in your bank account.”
“I can do that,” he said in a strangled voice.
His dad wagged the pencil and looked as smug as a cat that knows he’s cornered a mouse. “I know you can. You’re a bright kid. You’ve got a brilliant future ahead of you. That’s why I’m not going to let you throw it away on some pretty little gold digger.”
“She’s not—”
“Then make her prove it. Tell her I said that if you insist on marrying, you have to stand on your own financial feet.”
“You know I have scholarships.”
“I know that, but she doesn’t.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Go ahead, but she still won’t marry you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I hope I am.” He grinned. “Not really. Look, I’m sorry. You’re clearly in distress. But the pain you’re feeling now will be nothing compared to your regret and anguish when your sweet little thing takes you to divorce court and cleans out your bank account.”
Zane pushed to his feet. “I’m marrying Flora. You’ll see.”
FLORA WOKE TO A TAPPING sound. Sitting up, she focused on the shadowy form outside her window. Zane. She padded across the room and leaned over Sicily’s bed to push open the window. A cold breeze blew in.
“We need to talk,” Zane told her.
She nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She slid the window closed, grabbed a hoodie off the end of Sicily’s bed, and put it on over her nightshirt. Then she padded down the hall to let Zane in.
“We’ll get married on your eighteenth birthday,” Zane said without preamble. “I’ve been thinking it over, and it’s the best plan.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, doing some mental calculations.
“It’s only three weeks. You’ll have to transfer to a school in Santa Monica, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
She smiled. She’d miss her friends, but it would be worth it to be with Zane. Maybe she could graduate early and attend Santa Monica City College.
He guided her to the sofa and pulled her down so that she sat beside him. “You love me, don’t you?” He angled his body so he could see her face.
“Of course,” she said, wounded that he would need to ask.
“You should know that my father has cut me off.”
“What?”
Zane nodded. “We’ll be on our own financially.”
“Your father is cutting you off?” she echoed, trying let the words sink in and make sense. She leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Emotionally and financially?”
Zane nodded. “He says that if I marry you now, he’ll never speak to me again.” He bit his lip and studied her face.
“Then we should wait,” Flora said, “and get married when we have your father’s blessing. I don’t want you to jeopardize your relationship with your father for me.”
“Don’t you see? I consider not seeing my dad an added perk. I get you and I lose him. It’s a win-win.”
“I don’t want to be the wall between you and your dad.”
He nodded and cupped her face in his hands. “I’d give up everything and everyone to be with you.”
A light switched on. “What’s going on?” Cass stood in the hallway, wearing a thin robe over a man’s shirt. Mascara-stained, hair disheveled, a cigarette dangling from her fingers—Cass was everything Flora didn’t want to be.
And this was not how she’d wanted the introduction between her mom and Zane to go. But she had no one to blame but herself. She had known this day would come, but she’d dreaded it. For this very reason.
Zane bounced off the sofa and extended his hand. “Mrs. Hill. Hi, I’m Zane Wentworth.”
Running her gaze over him, Cass sized him up before taking his hand.
“I’m going to marry your daughter.”
Cass snorted and flashed Flora a glance.
Flora wouldn’t meet her mom’s eyes. Instead, she studied the floor and wished it could swallow her.
Cass flicked the ashes off her cigarette and turned her attention back to Zane. “Flora’s not getting married anytime soon.” She squinted at Zane. “Wait. What did you say your name was again?”
He stood a little straighter. “Zane Wentworth, ma’am.”
“Wentworth.” She waved at the distant beach. “Like the doc?”
“Yes, he’s my dad.”
“Are you going to be a doctor, too?”
“I plan to, although, without my dad’s support, it’ll take me longer...”
“Ah, so I take it your dad isn’t on board with your marriage plans.”
“No, ma’am.”
“So, why get married now?” Cass pressed.
Zane’s gaze flickered to Flora. “I want to be with her, always. As it is, I have to go back to school and she has to stay here. If we’re married, she’d come with me.”
“Just live together,” Cass suggested.
“Mom,” Flora blew out.
Rubbing her eyes, Sicily emerged from the bedroom and stood behind their mom. “What’s going on?”
“This kid wants to marry Flora.” Cass flicked her cigarette at the sofa.
“I’m going to marry Flora,” Zane said in a hard voice.
“Right.” A sly smile curved Cass’s lips. “Yeah. We’ll make that happen.” She waved her cigarette at Zane. “Let me talk to my daughter alone. Come back on her eighteenth birthday.”
Zane sputtered a protest.
“It’s in three weeks,” Cass said. “Believe me, you can wait.”
Zane squared his shoulders, gave Flora a hard kiss, and left.
“Go to bed,” Cass demanded once Zane’s bike roared away. “I’ve got to get a plan together.”
ZANE RETURNED HOME to find his dad’s office light still on. He tried to noiselessly slip down the hall, but the office door flew open as he passed.
“So, you getting married?” Weatherford asked with a smirk.
“Yes,” Zane replied.
Weatherford’s eyebrow quirked. “Yeah? When?”
“On her eighteenth birthday.”
Weatherford chuckled. “It’s not going to happen.” He got a calculating look in his eye. “You haven’t had sex with her, have you?”
Zane rolled his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no I haven’t.”
“Good. Keep it that way. We don’t want them claiming you fathered some brat.”
“Dad.” Zane’s mounting anger exploded. “I’m telling you she’s not like that. She’d never do that.”
“We’ll see.” Weatherford closed his office door and left Zane standing in the dark.
THE NEXT MORNING, FLORA woke to find her mom sitting on her bed. Cass still wore the shirt, but she’d lost the robe. Her disheveled hair and smeared makeup spoke of a long, restless night.
“I’ve been giving it some thought. You have to marry this kid,” Cass announced.
Flora’s heart leapt. “Really? I’m surprised—”
“As soon as possible.” She winked. “Because of the baby.”
“Baby?” Flora sat up and hugged her knees. “There’s no baby.”
“But the doc doesn’t know that, does he? And he might cut off his son, but I bet he wouldn’t let his grandson live in squalor.”
“We wouldn’t live in squalor. I mean, it’ll be rough, but we’ll make it work.”
Cass shook her head. “It’s too risky. It’s better to get the kid involved.”
Flora fought the temptation to toss her mom off the bed. “There’s one giant problem with your scheme,” she raised her voice, “THERE’S NO BABY.”
Her mom smirked. “Then this is where the fun starts.” She leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Go and make one.”
“I’m not having a baby to carry out a scam. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m just a kid myself. I’m not ready to have a baby.”
Cass rolled her eyes. “Then don’t. But we don’t have to tell the doc that.”
Flora pushed off the bed, not quite sure where to go. The sound of running water let her know that Sicily was already in the shower. “I’m not listening to this. You’re crazy.” She padded to her closet and selected her clothes for the day.
Cass trailed after her. “Just think about it. This could be our big break.”
Flora spun on her heel to stare at her mom. “Our big break? What do you have to do with my marriage and my pretend baby?”
Cass looked as if Flora had slapped her. “This is my idea.”
Flora plucked a pair of jeans off her shelf and pulled her favorite shirt, a pink and yellow plaid soft button-down, off a hanger. Fortunately, the shower had shut off, and Flora went to the hall to take her turn in the bathroom.
The door opened and a fog of sweet-soapy-smelling steam rolled out. Sicily, draped in a towel, emerged. Flora pushed past her and closed the door on her mom and the ridiculous proposition.
On the way to school, Flora told Sicily what Cass had suggested. “I feel like I need to tell Zane—to warn him.”
Sicily grabbed her wrist. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
Sicily looked around the busy sidewalk at the students carrying backpacks, businessmen in suits, people with dogs on leashes, and people pushing babies in strollers milling around them. No one seemed to be paying them any attention. “I’m going to tell you something,” Sicily began, “but you have to promise not to repeat it to anyone.”
“What?” Flora asked, surprised by Sicily’s intensity.
“It’s about Mom.” Sicily tightened her grip on Flora’s wrist and drew her into a quiet alley. After another glance around at the trash bins, towering brick walls, and blank metal doors, she leaned in to whisper, “This wouldn’t be the first time Mom’s scammed for money.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Billy told me.” Sicily’s dad lived in Oregon, but he came to visit a few times a month. Flora liked Billy okay, but Sicily adored him. Flora tried not to be jealous. “According to Billy, Mom’s a total scam artist and it’s amazing she hasn’t been caught and sent to jail.”
“If she’s such a con, why are we living in a trailer park?”
“He never said she was a good one. Think about it. Zane and his dad are both incredibly smart. If Dr. Wentworth catches on to Mom, she could go to jail.” Sicily waited a beat for Flora to process this. “You’d be okay, because you’re almost eighteen, but they’d put me back in social services.”
Both girls had spent a few terrifying months in foster care when they were twelve and eleven. Their foster parents had been interested in two separate things—the wife, Maggie, was only interested in the payout from the government; the husband, Miles, had an interest in young girls. Sicily had learned to vomit at will to thwart his advances, and Flora had convinced their social worker to allow them to return to their mom. Neither of them was willing to take the risk again.
“As soon as I’m eighteen, I’ll leave and take you with me,” Flora promised her sister.
Sicily shook her head. “You’re going to marry Zane.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I think if you leave, I’ll go and stay with Billy.”
Flora pulled a face. “In the mountains?” She looped her arm through Sicily’s and tugged her toward the school.
“It’ll be better now that he’s not in the military.”
“Come on. Let’s go to school. We’ll tough it out with Mom, work hard, get scholarships, and have amazing lives.”
“What about Zane?” Sicily asked.
“I’m not sure...”
“You better not tell him about Mom.”
“I trust him.”
“I do, too, but what if he tells his dad or someone else?”
“You could come and live with us.”
Sicily shook her head. “Please. What kind of apartment can you get in Santa Monica? You’ll be lucky if you can find a strawberry stand you can afford.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I’ll be okay. I’m better off with Mom than anywhere else. I know she doesn’t always act like it, but I know she loves us.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Tell him you want to elope.”
CHAPTER 4
Zane called the next day while Flora was babysitting for the Willis kids: Blaine Willis, age five, and his brother Jack, age four. Blaine sat at the kitchen table with a coloring book and dozens of crayons spread around him. Jack had a toy truck in his hand and made zooming noises as he plowed his truck through Blaine’s crayon collection.
Flora stood at the kitchen counter while she made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with one hand and held her phone with the other.
“Are you sure?” Zane asked when she told him she wanted to elope.
“Yes.” Flora clutched the phone so hard her fingers turned white. The knife in her other hand shook as she spread the peanut butter.
Blaine looked up from his art. “Who are you talking to?”
She shook her head at him and put her finger to her lips.
“Okay, let me find out what we need to do to get married in Vegas,” Zane said, his excitement making his voice hitch.
“Is that your boyfriend?” Blaine pressed.
“Hush.” She made a throat-slashing movement, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Flora has a boyfriend,” Blaine called to his brother.
Jack drove his truck into the pantry and returned with a bag of Cheetos. “Mom said you’re not supposed to have boys over while you’re watching us.”
“And you’re not supposed to eat junk food.” Flora grabbed the bag of Cheetos out of Jack’s hand.
“Hey!” he complained. “Give those back.”
“It sounds like you’re busy,” Zane said.
Flora frowned at her two wards. “Yeah, but hopefully not for too long.”
“Okay, I’ll call you tonight and we’ll make plans. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said, ignoring the boys’ frowns.
“Gross,” Blaine said.
“Yuck,” Jack echoed.
Flora tucked the phone into her back pocket. “I hope you have a better opinion of your sandwiches.” And she hoped her sandwich days with Blaine and Jack were coming to an end.
THEY LAID THEIR PLANS. Flora packed a small suitcase and hid it in the crawl space beneath the mobile home. On the night before her eighteenth birthday, she waited until eleven-forty-five to slip out of bed.
Staring at her sister’s sleeping form in the bed beside her, Flora blinked back a tear. “Sicily,” she said, touching her shoulder. “I’m going.”
Sicily bolted up. �
�What?”
“I’m leaving,” Flora whispered. She and Zane had agreed to keep their plans completely secret, but she couldn’t leave without telling Sicily goodbye. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. I’ll miss you so much.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Flora promised her.
“Okay. But wait, tell me where you’re going.”
“I can’t. The less you know, the better.”
Flora grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
“Very touching.” Wearing tall black boots, a denim jacket, and a blue turtleneck, Cass leaned against the wall in the hall. She pulled upright and flipped on a light switch. Flora’s suitcase that she’d so carefully hidden beneath the mobile home lay at her feet. She kicked it into Flora’s room. “Might as well unpack this, because you’re not going anywhere.”
“Mom.” Flora scrambled to get her suitcase and as she did, her phone fell onto the floor.
Cass took a drunken step forward and smashed Flora’s phone beneath the heel of her boot.
“You thought you could run off and marry this kid? It’s not happening.” She grinned. “At least not the way you think it is. You’ll see, my plan is way better.”
Flora shot Sicily a panicked look, which Sicily immediately deciphered. Sicily reached for her phone on the nightstand.
Cass spun around. “Oh no you don’t. You two think you’re so clever, don’t you?” She lunged for Sicily’s phone, ripped it out of her hands, and skipped out of the room.
“Run,” Sicily urged.
“Come with me,” Flora said.
“Now? No way. I’m not crashing your honeymoon.”
In the bathroom, the toilet flushed.
Flora gasped. “Your phone.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sicily whispered. “Just go.”
Cass returned. “I don’t think so.” She held a coil of rope in her hands.
Flora tried to bolt from the room, but her mom knocked her to the floor. Pain swam over her. She scrambled up, but her knees crumpled, and blackness overtook her.
ZANE WAITED FOR AN hour in the dark parking lot of the Dollar Mart. The whole time, his father’s words kept repeating in his head. This girl is more interested in your money than in you. Let’s put her to the test. An experiment. A pretty gold digger...
