Authors: Marie Force
“She’s not saying it to be nice. It’s true. You’ve made a huge contribution here. You should be proud of that.”
“Gran and Grandpa sure would be pleased with the way the place looks.”
“I can’t wait to see them at the wedding.”
Sarah couldn’t wait to see her beloved Owen married to the lovely Laura McCarthy. “Me, too.”
“See you later, Mom.”
As her tall, handsome son went to go check on his family, Sarah couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she was happy and content. She’d be happier when she was officially divorced and no longer had to worry about testifying against her violent ex-husband, but for right now, today, she was happy, and that was more than enough.
Tiffany wondered if it was possible to die from the stomach flu. She couldn’t remember ever being this sick. After the last round of vomiting, she’d crawled back to bed. And now someone was pounding on her door. Hoping Ashleigh would sleep for a while longer, Tiffany dragged herself out of bed and put on a robe. Halfway down the stairs, she had to pause when her swimming head had her wondering if she might pass out.
“You can’t do that,” she said out loud, as if that might keep it from happening. “You have to take care of Ashleigh.” She shook off the dizziness and continued down the stairs as the pounding on the door continued unabated. Who the heck needed her so badly? She sure hoped it wasn’t Blaine. He’d probably die of fright if he saw her right then. With that possibility in mind, she smoothed her hands over her rat’s nest hair and pulled open the door.
The young man standing on her doorstep cringed at the sight of her.
She must look even worse than she’d thought. “Yes?”
“Tiffany Sturgil?”
“That’s me.”
He thrust a clipboard at her. “Sign here.”
Because she desperately needed to sit down, she signed where directed and took the envelope from him. She shut the door and made it to the sofa before her legs gave out under her. She must’ve dozed off because when she came to a few minutes later, Ashleigh was standing in front of her.
Tiffany reached for her daughter. “Hi, baby. How do you feel?”
“My belly hurts.”
“I know. Mine does, too.”
Ashleigh ran her hands over Tiffany’s face, checking for fever the way Tiffany did to her. The gesture drew her first smile of the day. “Mama sick, too?”
“Yep.”
Ashleigh leaned forward to rest her head on Tiffany’s shoulder. “I take care of you.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
Behind the little girl’s back, Tiffany tore open the envelope and had to blink when the words swam before her eyes. The letterhead was from Jim’s law firm, and Tiffany had to read the letter twice before the words permeated the fog in her brain. Her store was being evicted. Her landlord asserted that her rent check had bounced, and he’d hired her ex-husband to have her removed. She had fifteen days to vacate the premises.
“Mama needs to get up, honey.”
“I watch Dora,” Ashleigh said.
“Sure. Go ahead.” Tiffany handed her daughter the remote control and bolted for the kitchen, where she was violently ill in the sink. Her hands were shaking and her legs were weak by the time it was over. She reached for the phone and managed to drop it. By the time she bent over and picked it up, she was already feeling sick again. She punched in the phone number to the store and waited for Patty to answer.
“Naughty & Nice,” her assistant said, sounding far too chipper to Tiffany’s sick ears.
“It’s Tiffany.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like death.”
“That hunky cop of yours was in here to see you, and you’ll never guess what?”
Tiffany wanted to tell Patty that Blaine wasn’t
her
hunky cop, but she lacked the energy to debate the point. “Wyatt asked you out. I heard.”
“I’m so excited! I can’t believe—”
“Patty.”
“Oh, sorry. What’s up?”
“Remember when you took the deposit to the bank for me?”
“Yep.”
“What account did you put it in?”
“The savings account like you told me to.”
Tiffany held back a moan. She’d specifically told her assistant to put it in the checking account.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, everything’s fine. Any customers today?”
“Quite a few, actually. Mrs. Upton was in with a couple of her friends, and Mrs. McCarthy stopped by, hoping to see you.”
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“Just to tell you that her husband loved the items she brought home the other day.”
Under normal circumstances, that would’ve been the best news Tiffany had had all year. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
“Did the messenger guy find you at home?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Oh, sorry to disturb you. He said it was urgent.”
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“If you don’t feel good, I don’t mind covering for you.”
“Thank you.” If only Tiffany could afford to pay her for that many hours. “I’ll call you in the morning if I need you.”
“Talk to you then.”
Tiffany ended the call and dialed her mother. “Mom,” she said when Francine answered. “I need you.”
“I heard you two are sick.”
“I hate to expose you guys, but Ashleigh is feeling better, and I think I might be dying.” Tears leaked from her eyes as it registered with her that her ex-husband had meant what he said when he told her there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see her driven out of business.
“We’ll be over to pick her up in a few minutes. Hang in there, honey.”
“Thank you,” Tiffany said, weak with relief. When she put down the phone, she ducked her head into the living room. “Ash, do you think you could eat something?”
Without taking her eyes off the television, her little girl nodded.
Tiffany filled a sippy cup with Apple juice and put some crackers in a bowl. “Here you go. Take it slow at first. Mama needs to make a phone call, okay?”
“Okay.”
Mesmerized by Dora, Ashleigh ate and drank while Tiffany dialed Dan Torrington’s phone number and left a message on his voice mail, hoping she’d hear back from him soon.
While she waited for her mom and Ned, she dozed on the sofa. All the while, her mind raced with worry about the business. Surely her landlord couldn’t evict her over one bounced check, could he? Trying to remember what the lease agreement had stipulated had Tiffany feeling sick again, so she forced her mind off those thoughts and focused on not throwing up. There couldn’t be anything left in her stomach.
The next time she stirred, her mother and Ned were standing over her. She glanced at the clock and saw it was after five o’clock. How in the world had the day gone by without her knowing it? “Ashleigh?”
“Is fine,” her mother said.
Thank goodness for
Dora the Explorer
, Tiffany thought for the thousandth time since Ashleigh became hooked on the cartoon a year ago.
“Where did the furniture come from?” Francine asked.
“Estate sale at Mrs. Ridgeway’s house.” Tiffany couldn’t muster the wherewithal to relay the full story, nor was she ready to tell her mother and Ned about Blaine. They’d find out soon enough.
“She don’t look too good,” Ned said of Tiffany.
Francine rested her hand on Tiffany’s forehead, and Tiffany wanted to weep from the sweet relief of her mother’s cool hand on her overheated skin. “You’re burning up, honey. Did you take something for the fever?”
“Couldn’t keep it down.”
“Poor thing.”
“Ya need to keep hydrated,” Ned said. “Don’t want ta see ya end up in the clinic.”
“We brought you some ginger ale and chicken soup,” Francine added.
“Thanks,” Tiffany said, gagging to herself at the thought of either.
“I’ll get you a glass of the ginger ale and put the soup on to warm.”
“No soup, Mom. I can’t do it. Not yet.”
“Okay, I’ll leave it here for when you feel up to it.”
Ned scooped up Ashleigh and planted noisy kisses on her cheeks, making her laugh. “Ya feeling better, baby girl?”
“Uh-huh, but Mama is sick now.”
“We’re going to let her sleep while we take you to our house for a sleepover. How’s that?”
“Good!”
Ned put her down and took her hand. “How bout we go pack yer bag?”
Ashleigh tugged him up the stairs to her room.
“He’s so good with her,” Tiffany said. “You’d never know he didn’t raise a bunch of his own kids.”
“I wish he’d been your father.”
“That would’ve been nice. I could’ve picked a better father for my child, too.” Tiffany gestured to the letter on the table.
Francine picked it up, read it and began to fume. “Is he
for real
?”
“Apparently so.”
“Oh my God, what’ll you do?”
“Fight him tooth and nail. What else can I do?” The thought of yet another legal battle with Jim, not to mention the expense of hiring Dan, had Tiffany fighting another round of nausea and more tears.
“I’m so sorry.” Francine shook her head with dismay. “That boy needs to be horsewhipped. After all you did for him, that he can treat you this way—it’s unconscionable.”
“I agree.”
The door opened, and Blaine walked in, stopping short when he saw Tiffany’s mother sitting with her on the sofa. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Francine looked from Tiffany to him and back to her again, raising an eyebrow in inquiry that reminded Tiffany of Maddie, who did the same thing. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
Rather than dig for more information, Francine only smiled. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tiffany’s forehead. “Good for you,” she whispered before she got up. “Chief Taylor, nice to see you.”
“Um, you, too. Ma’am. Please, call me Blaine.”
“I’d be happy to,
Blaine
. I’m Francine.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I can come back later.”
“Don’t leave on our account,” Francine said. “Ned is helping Ashleigh pack up to spend the night with us so Tiffany can get some rest.”
Tiffany felt like an observer at a tennis match as her mother and her…lover, or whatever he was…conversed like old friends.
Lover
… She hated that word. It was so corny and over-the-top romantic. Sex buddy. She liked that a lot better, only it didn’t go far enough to describe the way her heart raced at the sight of him or her palms got damp—and not because of the fever. No, it was him and the way he sucked all the oxygen out of the room just by stepping through the door.
“How’s the patient?” he asked her mom.
“Burning up with fever and not interested in food.”
“I’ll be around tonight if she needs anything.”
“It makes me feel a lot better to know she won’t be alone.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes at her mother.
Ned came down the stairs with Ashleigh, who made a big production out of hugging and kissing Tiffany.
Her daughter stopped short at the sight of the policeman standing in her living room.
“Hi, Ashleigh.” Blaine squatted and extended a hand to the child. “Remember me? I’m Blaine, Uncle Mac’s friend.”
While Tiffany held her breath, Ashleigh nodded and shook his hand. “Are you my mama’s friend, too?”
“I sure am. While you have a sleepover with your grandparents, I’ll keep an eye on her for you. Would that be okay?”
“Uh-huh.” To Ned, she said, “Can we have ice cream tonight?”
Realizing they’d gotten through the introduction of Blaine into Ashleigh’s life with nary a speed bump, Tiffany released the deep breath she’d been holding. She watched as Blaine’s chest expanded, indicating his relief, too. The realization that he’d been nervous made her all swoony inside for reasons other than the stomach bug.
“Absolutely,” Ned said in response to Ashleigh’s question. “Let’s get going, ladies. We’ve got a lot to do tonight.”
“Thanks, Ned, and you too, Mom.”
“Happy to help,” Ned said as he ushered his ladies out the door.
“We’ll check on you later,” Francine said, squeezing Blaine’s arm on the way by.
After he closed the door behind them, Blaine came over to see her. “Jeez, talk about walking into a snake pit—your parents
and
your daughter, in one fell swoop.”
“Trial by fire,” Tiffany said with a weak smile. She loved that he referred to her mom and Ned as her “parents.” Over the last year, Ned had become the dad she’d never had, and she loved him more every day. She probably ought to tell the old guy that at some point.
Blaine brushed the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. It was entirely different, she decided, when he kissed her forehead than when her mother did it. For one thing, his kiss set off a series of goose bumps over her fevered skin.