A blush creeps up her cheeks as she shrugs off her coat after setting the mail on the counter. “Sorry.”
“’S okay.” I nod to the pile of envelopes. “Anything good?”
She shrugs and sits down on a stool. “Haven’t looked.”
I turn back to the soup, grabbing a dish towel from under the sink and a spoon from the drawer before heading toward the couch. Setting the bowl on the coffee-table, I shake my daughter awake. “Sweetheart? Wake up, Lyssa girl.”
“Mommy?” she asks, staring at me through bleary eyes.
“I brought you some soup.”
Lyssa shakes her head. “No soup. Sleep.”
“You can go back to sleep after you eat something.”
“Don’t wanna,” she mutters as I scoop some onto the spoon.
“Come on,” I coax. “Just a few bites.”
“No!” She squirms and sloshes some of the liquid onto the carpet.
I bend down to dab it with the spare towel swung over my shoulder. “Honey, please. You have to eat something.”
“Not hungry,” huffs Lyssa, crossing her arms.
“If you eat five bites,” I bargain, “I’ll give you a popsicle.” Her eyes light up and her mouth flies open. She’s on bite number four when Megan’s voice sounds from the kitchen.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?” My brow furrows as I swivel toward the island. Lyssa steadies the spoon as a few droplets splatter onto her favorite shirt.
“Mom!”
“Sorry.” I pat the wet spot as Megan comes over.
“Didn’t you pay the gas bill last week?”
I pause. “I think so. Why?”
“Because we got a late notice. They want our payment immediately and there’s a fine of fifty bucks.”
I snatch the paper and scan the contents. The “Days Late” line makes me realize what must have happened. My stomach knots and I slap the form down. “Oh Mags, I’m sorry!”
“What happened?”
“I was going to pay it last week when I got the check from the show, but there was the co-pay at the hospital.”
“And you’re on unpaid leave.”
My cheeks warm. “Yeah.”
Megan lets out a long breath and runs a hand down her face. “Okay, I’ll cover the fee, but I don’t have enough money to foot the bill, too. Not with the expenses for my niece’s birthday party and everything else.”
“I know, I know.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I get my payment from the diner tonight. I promise I will pay the bill first thing tomorrow.”
“You swear?” she asks, raising a brow.
“Cross my heart.” I make the motion over my chest and Megan grins.
“Good.”
I keep my promise, but a few days later, we’re all bundled up in our bulkiest winter clothes, huddling by the stove for warmth as our teeth chatter and our breaths crystallize in the frigid air.
“I’m f-freezing, Mom,” Lyssa rubs her hands together from where she’s settled in my lap.
“What’s t-taking them so l-long?” Megan growls, crossing her arms.
“I d-d-don’t know.”
Simultaneously, my cell phone and the doorbell ring.
“Thank goodness!” Megan stands with Lyssa in tow and throws the door open to reveal the head of the maintenance department as I hit “ACCEPT.”
“Hello?”
“Hello,” responds an automated voice, “this is SmartMart pharmacy. Your prescription for Alyssa Klarken is ready.” She’d needed a double dose of strep meds.
I scowl. Yet another thing I can’t afford. I should’ve switched doctors with the insurance. I hang up in time to hear the tail end of Megan’s conversation with the maintenance man.
“For the whole building?” she repeats.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, how long will it take to fix?”
The man shrugs. “No telling. Could be two days, could be two weeks. We won’t know until we figure out what the problem is.”
“So, we could be freezing our butts off in here for two weeks?”
“What?” I shriek, jumping up to meet them.
“Heat’s broken,” Megan deadpans.
“But Lyssa. Her strep. Won’t the temperature make it worse?”
She nods. “Probably.”
The man looks between us. “I’m real sorry, girls. If there was something else we could do . . .”
Megan thanks him and shuts the door before we sink onto barstools. It’s official: the universe hates me.
I stifle a yawn and hold up Lyssa’s faded stuffed giraffe. “You know, when I let you two move in,” something else soft and furry squishes under my foot and I look down as a monkey screeches, “I didn’t expect you to bring the entire zoo.” I kick the monkey out of the way and drop into a seat at the island. “That’s the fourth animal I’ve tripped over between here and my bedroom.”
Catie takes two mugs from the cabinet above the coffee pot and fills them with steaming liquid. “Sorry. I tried to tell her we couldn’t bring everything, but . . .” She shrugs and preps the coffee. Hers gets soy milk and about a fourth of the open packet of sweetener. The rest she shakes into mine, but not before lightening it with a splash of my favorite creamer.
“You still know how I like it?”
She snorts and sips her drink. “From the day we met, you’ve been a creature of habit.” I start to refute, but she beats me to it. “I know a lot can happen in nine years, Lyn, but trust me, no one can change that much.”
My features contort as the statement cuts a little deeper than I’d like, but I shake it off. “Hey!”
She’s right in more ways than one. How things have changed.
“Lyn?” I look up. “You okay?” The glint of mirth behind her eyes is contagious and soon enough, my resentment melts. The shake of her head sends her mussed blond curls swinging when she sinks onto the seat beside me.
“Just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Having two extra people crowding my house has done nothing good for my personal space issues.
“Ugh, I know. I feel like such a robot.” My eyes widen when she downs the contents in one gulp before getting up and filling the cup to the brim again. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand and a pang of guilt twists in my gut. “My trainer would kill me if he saw this, but with Lyssa up coughing like she was, I didn’t have much choice.”
Dammit. On second thought, I did get some shut eye, because I didn’t hear squat. As she sits down and raises the drink, Lyssa calls out.
“Mom?”
Catie shuts her eyes and sighs before setting down her cup and standing. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.”
“Wait.” Her eyes meet mine. “I got this. Looks like you need a few more minutes to yourself.”
She blinks, stares, then smiles. “Lyn, it’s fine. You’ve done enough for us already, letting us stay here on such short notice.”
I shove her shoulder. “Well, option number two was letting you guys turn into human snowwomen.” I snicker and Catie snorts “Fat chance I’d ever let that happen.”
“Thank you, really. But Lyssa is my responsibility.”
“Relax. Nobody is stealing your Mom of the Year award.” The words slip out without my permission. I give her a firm, but gentle, shove back onto the stool. “I got her. It’s the least I can do after you were up all night.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mom?” Lyssa calls again. Catie stands as if on autopilot.
“Positive.” I say, inching her coffee cup closer. “Finish your liquid energy. I’ll take care of the squirt.”
Catie laughs, but lets her fingers curl around the mug handle while I head toward the guest room where they slept. My heartbeat thuds against my chest. God, why did I do that? Just because we’re living together again, it doesn’t mean I should feel responsible for someone else’s kid.
Except, of course, that Catie told me Lyssa wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for
me.
Thus, why I’d been so quick to let the two of them move in. After all, Catie had asked for enough money to pay for Lyssa’s strep prescription when she’d called. She’d also promised to pay back every cent when she got her next payment from the diner, but I’d told her not to worry about it. I’d had enough decent-paying jobs over the years. Two more occupants wouldn’t break my bank.
As much as my stomach had twisted at the desperation and regret in her voice when she apologized for the umpteenth time for asking in the first place, I had no explanation for the word vomit that catapulted from my throat. Lyssa’s complaints in the background had given away their unfortunate heating situation. Maybe if it ever comes up in a court of law, I can plead insanity.
“Mom!”
Lyssa’s cry knocks me from my thoughts and I roll my eyes when I reach the end of the hall and push open her door. “Hold your horses, kid, I’m coming.”
“Addie?” she asks, huddled under the covers and propped against the headboard of the queen-size bed she shared with her mother.
“Well, good morning to you too, you little rascal.” I climb over the various unpacked boxes and make my way onto the comforter. “What’s all this yelling about? I thought you said your throat hurt.”
“Where’s Mom?” she squeaks. It’s meant to come out as a demand, but her face twists in pain when she coughs between the words. I rub her back when she whimpers.
“You okay?”
She nods and sniffs. “It hurts,” she laments, pointing to her throat.
I run my hand along her back again. “I bet it does. All that yelling didn’t help either, huh?”
She purses her lips and crosses her arms. “But I was confused. Mom was gone.”
“Why not come and look for her then?”
“Because my stomach hurts. I was afraid I might get sick.”
I wince. “Oh, I’m sorry, munchkin.” I clamber off the bed before scooping her up. She squeals with laughter when I tickle her sides, but grimaces thereafter.
“Ow!”
“Somebody’s ready for her medicine,” I say as she rests her forehead on my shoulder before I put her down.
“Do I have to?”
“Do you want to feel better?”
She pouts, but nods.
We walk into the kitchen and she makes a bee line for her mother.
“I’m awake!”
Catie laughs as Lyssa sits on her lap. “I see! Are you feeling better?”
I round the island and head for the cabinets on the opposite side of the kitchen, which were never in use anyway, and thus have become storage for Lyssa’s things. How does she have so much energy all of a sudden?
Lyssa’s laughter morphs into another hacking cough.
“I guess not,” Catie says.
I spin around as she thwacks her daughter on the back and instructs her to raise her arms. Her eyes find mine over Lyssa’s mussed auburn hair. They swim with worry and a twinge of fear even as Lyssa’s choking dwindles. A wane smile dances on my face as I stride over with a full medicine cup.
“This should help.” She mouths thank you and pinches the cup between her thumb and forefinger when Lyssa can breathe normally. I shrug as she runs her palm over Lyssa’s back and raises the medicine to her daughter’s lips.
“All right, baby girl, open up.”
Lyssa sticks out her tongue, but swallows the liquid, features twisting.
“Yuck! That’s disgusting.”
Catie smiles softly and takes the sticky cup to the sink. “Sorry, Lys. The doctor said you need to take this until it’s all gone. If you wanna feel better, we have to do what he says.”
Lyssa sighs. “I know.”
My phone dings in my pocket. When I slide my finger across the screen, a red battery symbol blinks up at me. Great. I search for a charger, scouring three rooms before discovering Catie was the thief. The white cord dangles from the outlet of her phone, perched on the edge of the dresser. When I hit the home button to light up the screen, a satisfied 100 percent comes into view. Along with a text from her boss. “Hmm.” I switch out the devices and head back toward the kitchen with hers in hand.
Odd. Catie has the day off, and she works the night shift anyway. Why would Harlan be texting her at eight thirty a.m.? I pause in the living room, but the apartment is quiet. When I step into the kitchen, Catie is scanning the contents of the refrigerator and Lyssa is on the couch in the far corner of the room.
“Anything good in there?”
She sighs and closes it. “Not much.”
I hum. “I can cook us something.”
Catie raises an eyebrow. “You cook now? Adaline Davidson, have you been holding out on me?”
I gasp. “Me? Never.”
Catie shakes her head as her phone vibrates.
“Oh, I forgot.” Opening my palm, I hand it over. “I had to snag the charger. Mine was dead.”
“That’s okay. Sorry I stole it.”
“Long as it was you and not some burglar.”
Catie plants her hand on her hip. “Ha, ha, very funny.” Her forehead creases as she unlocks the phone. “Dammit!”
“What happened?” I ask, leaning against the counter. Though by the look on her face, I already know.
“It’s Harlan.” She tilts the screen toward me. “The guy who was supposed to cover for me tonight caught the flu. They need me to come in.”
“But Mom!” Lyssa whines, scrambling to stand next to her. “We were supposed to hang out tonight!”
“I know, love,” Catie says, smoothing her hair. “But Harlan needs help and—oh no!” She groans and drops her head into her hands. “Megan. She said she had a late rehearsal. That’s why I asked off in the first place. What am I gonna do with . . .” She trails off, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Could I take her with me?” she muses, more to herself than anyone else.
Lyssa looks on and I cross the room and rest my hands on her shoulders.
“Cate, come on, you can’t bring a sick kid into a commercial kitchen!”
“Ugh!” Catie slaps her phone down and looks up at me. “Well what am I supposed to do? If I don’t show up, I’ll get fired. And I can’t leave Lyssa here alone.”
“Addie can stay with me!” Lyssa suggests.
Whoa, wait a minute, what? Where did that idea come from? I can’t spend eight hours by myself with someone else’s kid. God knows how I’d handle that. Catie’s eyes find mine, brimming with hope. She doesn’t blink as I fumble for a way out.
“Lyn, I wouldn’t ask, but. . .”
“Well, I, uh. . . what about Brayden? Can’t she go to his house?” The knot in my chest loosens. Perfect! She can’t get any other kids sick there and I won’t have to worry about pulling my hair out. I beam, but Catie shakes her head.
“He has some kind of conference.” Her phone chimes and her scowl grows.
Perfect. What are we going to do? I drop onto the stool and Lyssa’s big eyes settle on mine.
“Please?”
“Sorry, squirt, but I—”
“I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary,” Catie begs, “but I’m out of options and Lys likes you.”
Lyssa nods.
“Cate, I—” My gaze flits between the two of them and each pout is more adorable than the next. Fuck. How did I get myself into this? “Fine!” I throw up my hands.
Catie squeals and squishes the air from my lungs. “Oh, Lyn, thank you! You’re the best!”
“Um, Cate?” I choke, scooching away. “Can’t . . .breathe.”
“Oops!” She releases me. “Sorry!”
“Look, I’ll do this,” I make sure there is a stern edge to my voice as I turn my gaze on Lyssa. “But you have to promise to be on your best behavior.”
Lyssa nods and bats her eyes. “I will, Addie. I promise.”
Catie stands up and squeezes my shoulder as the color drains from my face. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back by eight a.m. Lyssa will only need breakfast. Easy peas
y.”
Easy peasy my ass. The grin Lyssa’s wearing as she snuggles into her mother’s side says nothing but trouble with a capital T.
When I collapse into my bed, I barely glance at the time on my phone before my eyes slip shut. Midnight. As expected, Lyssa had been a perfect angel—right up until the door clicked closed behind her mother. Then the Queen of Trouble emerged, alive and kicking.
Catie had laid her down over half an hour before, but I swear she had been faking sleep the whole time. In the two minutes it took me to walk Catie out, Lyssa was up hacking again. She claimed her throat was killing her, but I couldn’t give her any more meds for another four hours. I tempted her with yet another popsicle. A horrible idea on so many levels.
At least I’d insisted she get out of bed because I didn’t want my comforter and sheets covered in sticky handprints. That late-night snack resulted in a bath after she used the cherry treat like a flag and flung it all over her pajama shirt. It took twenty minutes to convince her to let me wash her hair because she hated it when anyone got soap in her eyes yet refused to lean back. It took another half hour to catch her long enough to brush it. The later it got, the more her temper worsened. We were both exhausted and there was some yelling and stuffed animals thrown as we made our way back to her bed.
I don’t even remember the rest of her antics. My mind is too clouded by the promise of sleep. I’m crossing my fingers the house doesn’t look like a warzone come morning.
I hang my coat on the hook of my locker, exchanging it for the uniform-issued green apron with multiple pockets. Sliding my purse from my shoulder, I place it on the lowest shelf and turn the key. Before I slam the door closed, the bag vibrates, clanging against the cabinet’s metal frame.
“Better turn that off,” barks Kristina, brushing past me. “I’m not getting another forty-five-minute lecture at two a.m. because some prissy ballerina can’t un-Velcro her phone from her hand.” She saunters toward the front of the restaurant without waiting for a response.
I roll my eyes. We met between shifts one day and she saw me changing into my leotard in the locker room. I don’t know what her deal is with dancers, but ever since then, she’s looked at me like I’m some infectious disease she can’t bear to catch. Not to mention her attitude the rest of the time. Harlan can put up with a lot, but if there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s an employee slacking on the job. From the moment you tie on the apron, you’re on the clock. That means all smiles, perky tableside manner, and top-notch service (or, as top-notch as a place serving drunks and college partiers until the wee hours can get).
Duet Rubato Page 20
