Читать книгу Unexpected Family - Jill Kemerer - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Thankfully, her lunch break had finally arrived. The phones had been ringing nonstop all morning, and if Stephanie had to argue with one more insurance rep about covering a porcelain filling, she was going to rip the phone out of the wall. There wasn’t enough chocolate in the world for Mondays like this.

Bea, the other receptionist at the dentist office, had invited her to eat at their favorite deli. As they crossed the parking lot to get into Bea’s sporty black car, Bea chatted about her upcoming vacation plans.

“You sure have been quiet. Are you feeling okay?” Bea asked. Her chic white bob and subtle makeup matched her warm, intelligent personality. Stephanie considered her more of a worldly-wise aunt than a coworker.

“I’m fine. A little stressed.” As the car merged with traffic, Stephanie relaxed into the seat. At least the sun was shining. The day wasn’t completely bad. “Every time I answer the phone it’s a crisis.”

“Tell me about it.” She chuckled and peeked over. “A little green is peeking out from your bruise again. Remind me to touch it up with my concealer stick when we return.” She braked for a traffic light. “What are you going to do about your car?”

“Insurance is supposed to cut me a check this week. My old one wasn’t worth much, so I’ll have to find a used car in a limited price range.” Another to-do on an already crowded list. If only Dad was here. He’d help her pick out a vehicle. He’d check it over and tell her if it had major problems. She missed him. Missed having someone to rely on.

“How’s Macy doing?”

“Her wrist hurts, but she’s convinced she doesn’t need the sling. You know how kids are.” They sped past apartment buildings, fast-food joints, the pharmacy and a grocery store before coming to a stop at the bustling sandwich shop.

Since moving to Kalamazoo, Stephanie hadn’t told anyone about Tom, but she longed to confide in someone. And she appreciated Bea’s faith-filled perspective, something Dad lacked. She’d tried to get him to attend church with her, but he’d never been interested. Moving here and meeting Bea had given her a Christian shoulder to cry on, not that she did very often. But now she needed help—emotional and advice-wise.

After ordering subs and sodas, they found a table in the corner next to a window. Bea opened her sandwich to look it over before taking a bite, but Stephanie left hers wrapped next to her.

“I have to tell you something, and I’m really nervous about it.” Stephanie folded her hands, clutching them tightly. Questions swirled in Bea’s hazel eyes. “I think we’re good enough friends that you won’t hold this against me, but if you don’t want to talk to me after this, I understand.”

“We’re not in high school.” Bea flung a stray onion off her cheese, closed the bun and bit into it. “Nothing you could say would kill our friendship. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

Nothing like this. Stephanie drew her shoulders back. “I used to be married. Five years ago, to be exact. The whole romance whizzed by quicker than a Michigan spring. Within six months of saying ‘I do,’ we split up. During the divorce, I found out I was pregnant, but the way things ended... I didn’t think he’d ever want to see me again.”

Bea’s sandwich hovered next to her mouth. Stephanie didn’t know what to say. Then Bea blinked and made a rolling gesture with her arm. “Well, go on.”

Her teeth chattered. “Everything fell apart that year. I dropped out of school before the wedding. My college friends—the same ones I’d had all through high school—wanted me to hang out and party with them. Tom was working his way up at his dad’s company and had no time for me. I spent more and more evenings with my friends and their friends, and one friend in particular. He listened. Looked at me like I was somebody. Made me feel less lonely. We started meeting on our own. I justified it, telling myself Tom wasn’t paying attention to me, that it didn’t hurt anyone because we were just talking. But Tom drove into the city one day, and he saw us holding hands.”