Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
As soon as I’m seated at my small table by the window, overlooking the street, the server takes away the other place setting. It’s become my thing to grab a quick shot for the socials of me and my table for one, so I do that and then order my usual stack of buckwheat pancakes, turkey bacon, and two egg whites. There’s something bold about eating alone, enjoying your own company and not waiting for nobody.
I don’t linger today but pay for my cheap meal, gather my bag, and strike out for the short walk home. What a difference an hour makes. By nine, Skyland is buzzing with activity. The mimosa crowd is out and about. Pups walk their owners to the dog park. Strollers line the sidewalks as busy families venture out for a slice of leisure before the week revs up on Monday.
I take it all in, feeling rather zen by the time I reach my house.
“Forgot to check the mail,” I mutter, opening the box and pulling out a few letters. One name above a Boston address stops me in my tracks.
Oneida Barnes.
Dear God, what does my ex-mother-in-law want?
Keeping quiet because the girls sleep in hard on Sundays, I let myself in through the front door and make my way to the kitchen. I set my bag and the other correspondence on the counter. I take a stool and pick up the letter with a sigh. Edward’s mother and I have had very little contact since I “betrayed” him, as she likes to call it, by sharing information with the Feds.
“Maybe she’s finally breaking her silence through snail mail,” I say, sliding a nail under the envelope flap, “to let me know what a deceiving, backstabbing bitch I…”
A check flutters from the envelope and onto the counter.
“Five thousand dollars!” I stare at the check like it fell from space, and it may as well have, considering how little contact I’ve had with Edward’s mother. The memo line on this extraterrestrial check reads Tuition for the girls.
There’s no note. The check is simply wrapped in her monogrammed stationery.
Relief and reluctance wrestle in the pit of my stomach. Relief because keeping this house and keeping two girls at Harrington are the banes of my existence. I’ve been tempted to send them to public school. That is not off the table. Lupe loves going to an Atlanta city school, but if I can keep Lottie and Inez where they have friends, love their teachers, and are thriving, I will for as long as I can. This money is right on time, but I hate that it comes from Oneida. I can’t help but wonder what she wants in return.
“Guess I should call to thank her,” I grouse to my empty kitchen, half hoping the cabinets will open and say, That won’t be necessary.
I pull up the contact I haven’t used in nearly a year and dial.
“Soledad,” she answers without preamble, her voice cool and liquid. “I wondered if you would call.”
“Oneida, hi.” I clear my throat before going on. “I hope you’re doing well.”
“As well as a mother can be when her wrongly accused son rots in prison for crimes he didn’t commit.”
“Um… you do realize Edward pled guilty when it became apparent the evidence was overwhelming?”
“‘Evidence’”—she says the word as if it’s a tenet of a conspiracy theory—“that you magically produced to save yourself and your house and your car and all your designer dresses. And then to abandon him in his hour of need.”
Anger bubbles in my blood, and there’s so much steam building inside, my head might whistle if I don’t let some of it out.
“First of all,” I say, my jaw clenched hard enough to hurt, “I don’t have the fancy car your son insisted on buying anymore. I sold it for something more affordable. Other people walk around in my clothes now because I consigned most of them. And I bust my ass to keep this house because it’s my daughters’ home, and it will have to be pried from my cold, dead fingers.”
“Well, it’s about time you downsized anyway.”
“On that we can agree. I had so many things in my life that really weren’t necessary, including a lying cheat of a man. Consigned him too. To a federal prison.”
“And here I was thinking you called to thank me for the tuition payments I sent,” Oneida says, huffing her outrage on the other end of the line.
“And here I was thinking you wanted to help your granddaughters since your son stole six million dollars and left me to provide for them all by myself. Guess we were both wrong.”
“Well, a thank-you would be nice,” Oneida says. “And to see my granddaughters every once in a while. Even if it’s only Lupe.”
I tighten my hand on my cell.