“When I was helping Lan with his room, we looked for the gift card from your folks—the one they sent for Christmas. We couldn’t find it.”
My parents had moved to Arizona last year. I missed them and we all missed their role in Landon’s life. They’d only lived a few blocks away before the move, so we’d visited a lot. The phone calls, e-mails, and cards from Arizona were wonderful, but they certainly weren’t the same as chocolate chip cookies and golfing with Grandpa.
“I haven’t seen it since, well, Christmas,” I said. “It wasn’t in his desk drawer? That’s where I told him to put it.”
John shook his head. “The card was there, and the envelope, but the gift card wasn’t. Landon said he hadn’t opened it since Christmas morning.”
“Huh,” I said, wondering why John was looking at me so intently. I picked up the basket of unmatched socks on the dryer and started rolling them while we talked. “That’s weird. It was to Sports Authority, right?”
“Yeah,” John said. “A hundred bucks.”
“Did you check all his drawers and things?”
“We did,” John said, leaning against the washer and folding his arms. “He also said Keisha was in his room last week, looking through his desk.”
I gave him a reproachful look. “You think she took his gift card for a sporting goods store?” I could feel my defenses instantly kick in. Though I had seen great improvement in Keisha, John hadn’t stepped up like I’d hoped he would, and this seemed like one more sign of the fact that he was still expecting her to fail.
“She could sell it.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Really, John? You think she stole her little brother’s Christmas present so she could sell it to someone who just happened to want new basketball shoes but preferred to use a gift card?”
“You sell them for a portion of the price. The buyer gets a deal, and the seller gets cash. When she was in rehab, she said she’d done it before—that her boyfriend had some system.”
I hadn’t remembered Keisha saying that, but now I understood why he was being so pointed. I paired two more sets of socks while thinking of what I wanted to say. “I think it’s premature to put this on Keisha, and the gift card scam was more on the boyfriend’s shoulders. I’ve been giving her some money as needed,” I said, then looked up at him and added before he could ask how much, “not a lot, just some pocket money while she’s been looking for a job, which she now has. Did she say why she was going through Landon’s desk?”
He hesitated, then said, “She said she needed a pencil sharpener.”
“Well, see, that’s the first place I’d look for a pencil sharpener too. And Landon didn’t see her with the card, right?”
John took a breath and looked to the side. “No.”
I went back to the socks. “Did you tell Landon your suspicions?”
“No,” John said again.
“Good.”
Apparently neither of us had anything else to say, and after a few more seconds of silence, he left the room. I continued warring with all the thoughts in my head. I finished the socks—or at least finished the ones I could pair up—and headed for Landon’s room. He was lying across his bed playing his Nintendo DS, which had been missing for two weeks. Each time he’d complained about not being able to find it, I’d told him to clean his room.
“You found it, huh?” I said, playfully smacking his foot.
“I guess it was in my room the whole time,” he said, cracking a smile, though he didn’t look up from his game.
“Imagine that.”
I headed for his desk. “Hey, do you mind if I look for that gift card?”
“Sure,” he said. “I want to buy an Airsoft gun. Treven has one. It’s awesome, and Dad said he’d take me tonight.”
“I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa will be thrilled to know their gift allowed you to buy weaponry.”
He snorted.
I smiled and started going through the drawers. How many times in my years of motherhood had someone looked for something and not been able to find it, only to have me discover it within minutes? It was a mother thing. We knew our families so well that we made subconscious notes of where things could be. So I looked through every drawer, unfolding papers, moving things from one side to another, then emptying out the drawer completely.
Halfway through my search, I brought over the garbage can and began throwing out candy wrappers and stray Pokemon cards—who really collected those things anyway? I looked through the Christmas card and the envelope the gift card had been sent in three different times. Forty minutes later, I had to admit the gift card wasn’t there. Then I looked around the desk, under the bed, and through the shelves in the closet. John announced dinner when I started eyeing the garbage can.
“Did you already take out the garbage?” I asked as Landon paused his game and jumped up from the bed for dinner.
“No,” Landon said, hurrying from the room without a backward glance. I tried to remember when he’d have last emptied this garbage can. Seeing as how he hadn’t cleaned his room in well over a month it had to have been awhile. If he’d accidentally thrown the card away after Christmas, though, it could be in a landfill by now.
At the bottom of the garbage can I found some red-and-green wrapping paper—scraps from the Christmas gift I’d help Landon wrap for John. A week before Christmas. Which meant the garbage hadn’t gone out since then. Dang it. I’d been determined to prove the gift card was here, overlooked and waiting to be discovered. It would have proved both Keisha’s innocence and John’s obstinacy. But no card was found.
I joined the boys for dinner—sloppy joes—and pretended not to notice John’s continued tension.
We talked about the upcoming week while we ate—Landon had basketball practice on Tuesday and Wednesday and then finals in Laguna Negro on Thursday. I worked all three days but said I should be able to make it to the game in time for the second half on Thursday. After dinner, I did the dishes while John went out to pick up a couple of Landon’s friends for a Marvel Comic movie night. Then I sat at the computer and vegged out for a while.
After Landon and his friends were watching their movie, I dished myself some ice cream. When John came into the kitchen, I put down my spoon and immediately started getting him a bowl too.
“You didn’t find it, did you?” he said.
For an instant, I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then it all came rushing back, and I clenched my jaw in annoyance and embarrassment that he knew what I’d been doing in Landon’s room. “I’m sure the gift card will turn up.”
“I really hope it does,” John said, but his tone sounded anything but hopeful.
I handed him the bowl of ice cream, and we both ate in silence for a little while before I said I was going to see what was on TV and he headed for the computer. When I knew he wasn’t looking, I searched everything in the living room—behind furniture, all through the couch, in between books in the bookshelf. All I ended up with was dusty hands and hopes that if John’s work kept picking up, we might be able to hire a housekeeper to come in a couple times a month. I really hated housework.
I returned to my now-melted ice cream and wondered where on earth that gift card could be. What if it had been accidentally thrown out and we never found it? Would John ever drop his suspicions toward Keisha?
Chapter 10
Between work and basketball, the week was brimming with activities. Keisha worked a lot—Denny’s was short staffed, hence why they’d hired her so quickly—and, unfortunately, she had to cancel her therapy appointment for the week. I took comfort in the fact that she’d gone to four sessions already, and I reminded her to ask about getting Tuesday evenings off in the future. I also made sure she had appointments scheduled through the end of March.
Nothing more was said about the missing gift card, and the more time went by, the more I thought about how ridiculous the whole thing was anyway. I watched Keisha count out her tips every night. What did she nee
d to steal from Landon for? And how did she sell a gift card anyway? I imagined Keisha standing outside Sports Authority and waving people over with a “Psst, want to buy a gift card?” Who would buy a gift card from a stranger anyway? How would they know it wasn’t an empty card? The whole thing was silly.
Friday was a welcome reprieve and my first day off in five days straight—four ten-hour days and a twelve-hour shift. I was exhausted. John took the morning routine so that I could sleep in. Pure heaven. We’d gotten over our tension easily enough, like we usually did, and kept our focus on other things.
I got up at nine o’clock and thought about going running, but I got started on the laundry while John worked in the yard instead, and then I started reading up on Keisha’s school information. I wanted to make sure I knew the different deadlines for tuition and what she’d need before her first day, which was just over three weeks away.
John came inside and made me an omelet for a late breakfast, and we talked about the new job he was starting—custom cabinets for a condo in Newport Beach that was being remodeled by a Realtor. If it went well, he hoped it would lead to other jobs. He was giving the guy a great price in hopes of future projects.
“So what’s your plan today?” he asked while putting on his boots. He’d be working out of the shop at his dad’s for a few hours this afternoon, building the cabinet boxes.
“To be as lazy as possible,” I said, which was a joke. I really didn’t know how to be lazy. I needed to pay some bills, get the flowerbeds ready for spring, and catch up on a hundred other things in need of doing.
“Are you going to be running any errands?”
“I was planning to get groceries. Oh, and I need a new sports bra.” Assuming I’d get back to running anytime soon. It had been a few weeks, and I’d gotten out of the habit of my morning jog—the time just got away from me. Maybe a new bra would motivate me to return to my former hobby.
“That’s perfect,” John said without looking up from his boots. “We need new lacrosse pads for Landon, and practices start in a couple of weeks. Do you think you’d have time to take him after he gets home? You could get your sports bra while you’re there.”
Talking about lacrosse pads reminded me of sporting goods stores, which reminded me of the missing gift card and the argument from last weekend. I wondered if John was thinking the same thing, but I wasn’t about to bring it up.
“I can totally do that,” I said with a nod and a smile. I kissed him good-bye a few minutes later, then pulled open the kitchen drawer where we threw most of the mail. A few times a month, one of us would sort it, and today it was my turn. The drawer was overflowing, and I tried not to frown. What good was a day off if I had to fill it with another kind of work I didn’t get paid to do?
Landon was home by three, and we headed toward the closest sporting goods store, which just happened to be Sports Authority. We found my bra—though Landon wouldn’t come into the section with me—some lacrosse pads . . . and socks . . . and a jersey he just had to have before I put the kibosh on any more purchases.
We were in line when I saw the gift card display at the register. A horrible idea entered my mind, and I looked away in hopes the idea would disappear if I didn’t give it my attention.
Landon asked, rather ironically, if he could go look at the airsoft guns he’d buy once he found the card. Apparently he’d taken me at my word that it would show up eventually.
I told him he could go look and then found myself staring at the gift cards again. There were a few different styles to choose from, but I knew which design Mom and Dad had sent because it had a collection of sports balls on it. It was right there. Landon would never know. No one would ever know.
I looked away again. I would know. I would know that I had manipulated the whole situation. I would be lying to my husband and creating false trust toward Keisha. But . . .
“Is this everything?”
I looked at the clerk and smiled. “Yes, that’s everything,” I said, reaching into my purse for my wallet. I slid my debit card through the machine and found myself staring at the gift cards again. It was such an easy solution. John wouldn’t have to wonder if Keisha had taken the card, Landon would get his gun, and I would help create some extra harmony in our home. The pin number prompt came up on the credit card machine, but I hesitated. I looked around for Landon, but he wasn’t close by.
“Is it too late to add a gift card to this?” I asked, turning back to the clerk, who was patiently waiting for me.
“Not at all. Which style do you want?”
Chapter 11
I waited until the next morning to plant the gift card. It was the day of book group, which Aunt Ruby had reminded me of twice this week. It was also my second day off in a row. I was making butterscotch brownies for the book club treat, which weren’t really brownies at all since there was no chocolate in them. Regardless, you put one on a plate, top it with some ice cream and bottled hot fudge, and you had a somewhat-impressive dessert—at least by my standards, but it didn’t take much to impress me where sugar was concerned. I wasn’t a passionate cook.
John was at his dad’s shop again; he planned to install the cabinet boxes on Monday and had some finish work to do before then. I waited until Landon was in the bathroom before taking the gift card out of my wallet and putting it between the cushions of the couch I’d searched a week earlier. To ensure it would be found, I put the remote between those same cushions, then hurried back into the kitchen and measured out the brown sugar. A few minutes later, Landon wandered into the kitchen, looking for food. I suggested a corn dog, burrito, or pot pie. He went with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and asked again when I would be buying Pop-Tarts.
“Why don’t you turn on the TV?” I said, waving toward the flat screen mounted on the wall in the living room. I couldn’t really see the TV from here—half of it was blocked by a dividing wall—but still.
“There’s never anything good on Saturdays,” he said. “I think I’ll play the Wii.” The Wii was in the family room down the hall.
“Well, turn the TV on for me, then. I can at least listen. See if that medical examiner show is on.”
“The gross one?”
“Yes,” I said with a big grin. “The gross ones are my favorite.”
“You’re so weird,” he said, but he obediently went into the living room.
I moved the mixing bowl as far to the left side of the counter as possible so I could watch him. It was ridiculous how nervous I was. I whisked the eggs into the batter between glances into the living room. His cell phone dinged and he stopped in the middle of the room to read the text. I shook my head, whisked too hard, and sloshed the egg-sugar mix onto my shirt.
While I cleaned my shirt, I continued sneaking glances. What kind of twelve-year-old took a full minute to return a text?
“Can I go to Kenny’s?” Landon asked, coming back into the kitchen.
“Is your homework done?”
“Yes,” he said with a proud nod. Since the start of the new term—and two C grades—we’d been working on him getting his homework done right after school. “And I can ride my bike. We’re going to head over to the skate park. You don’t even have to drive me.”
“You can go,” I said, pulling the hem of my shirt away from my waist and frowning at the big wet spot across my stomach. I looked up. “But will you please turn on the TV first?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, hurrying back into the living room. I returned to my whisking and glancing and had counted to twenty-six before he said, “Where’s the remote?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” I said—lied, really. Gosh, I was a horrible person, wasn’t I? “Look for it.” It would seem contrived if I told him right where it was.
The front door opened, causing my head to snap up. John had said he’d be at the shop until at least five, and Keisha was working until eight.
“Hello?” I called.
“Hi,” Keisha said back.
A flush of hea
t smacked me in the chest. “I thought you worked until eight,” I said, standing in the middle of the kitchen, trying to come up with a new game plan before realizing I didn’t need a new game plan. Everything was fine just as it was. It didn’t matter that Keisha was here. She didn’t know anything about the card, so what was I worried about?
“They overscheduled the wait staff, which, like, never happens,” she said, still not appearing from the direction of the front door. “But I volunteered to work the graveyard shift tonight if they’d let me come home. It’s book group tonight, right? Hey, Land Rover. Whatcha doin’?”
“Looking for the remote. Mom wants to watch one of her gross shows.”
“Oooh, I love those ones,” Keisha said, making me smile.
I hadn’t moved from where the surprise of her coming in had stopped me, so I refocused on the bowl. Would the brownies still work even though I’d dumped half a cup of eggs and sugar all over myself? If I estimated there was three and a half cups of egg-sugar mixture, and I’d spilled one-seventh of that on myself, then I would need to decrease the ingredients I hadn’t added yet by one-seventh as well to keep the ratios intact. What was one-seventh of a teaspoon of baking powder?
I converted the teaspoon into ccs—five—and then divided that by seven—.714—and rounded it up, though I should technically round it down, and converted it back to teaspoon equivalency. It came out to be just a touch less than three-fourths of a teaspoon. I wish I had my scale from work so I could use grams instead. Weight was always a more accurate measure than volume. In college I’d transcribed a cookie recipe entirely to grams and weighed everything—best cookies I’d ever made.
“Did you find the remote?” I called, feeling my tension rising.
“No,” Keisha called back. “When did you last use it?”
This was ridiculous. “I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t actually watch that much TV. “Did you check the cushions?” That should have been the first place they looked.
Shannon's Hope Page 6
