Читать книгу Sisters Like Us - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 14
ОглавлениеHARPER POURED ANOTHER cup of coffee. It was only seven in the morning and she was already exhausted. Of course a lot of that could be because she hadn’t slept much the previous night. She’d been up finishing the gift bags. Honest to God, she needed to grow a pair and stand up to that woman.
“Mom, we have to talk about my driving lessons.”
Harper drank more coffee as she turned to look at her daughter. Becca sat at the table, a faithful Jazz at her side. The dog had sure figured out who loved her the most. If Becca was home, Jazz was right there with her.
Driving! How was that possible? Becca was supposed to still be seven. Only she wasn’t. She was turning seventeen in the summer and talking about college. Harper swore silently. Her daughter was going to be heading off to college in less than eighteen months and she was making what, two dollars an hour on stupid gift bags?
The weight of failure threatened to make her topple over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to have it all together. Had going into business for herself been a mistake? She didn’t think so, but if it wasn’t the job, then she was the problem and she sure didn’t want to hear that.
“Mom?”
Harper did her best to keep her tone even. “I know we do, honey. And we will. This weekend, okay? We’ll sit down and come up with a plan.”
Her daughter sighed. “Sure.”
“What does that mean?”
“You always say we’ll talk about something, but then we never do. You’re too busy with work.”
Harper didn’t like the sound of that. “I don’t. We will talk this weekend. You’ll see.”
Before she could think of a more convincing argument, the back door opened and Bunny walked in. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup in place and her clothes looked freshly laundered.
Harper was instantly aware of the fact that she hadn’t showered in maybe two days and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d put on makeup. She’d always worn her wavy hair in layers, but who had the time or money for that kind of maintenance? Lately she’d taken to simply pulling her hair back in a ponytail, which looked great on her beautiful sister but made her look like what she was—a woman of a certain age who had obviously given up.
“Morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could.
“Morning.” Her mother smiled at Becca, then frowned. “What are you eating?”
“Cereal.”
Harper reached for more coffee.
“Cereal?” Bunny shrieked. “Where’s your hot breakfast?” She turned to her daughter. “Harper Wray Szymanski, what is wrong with you? Your only child deserves a hot breakfast. As her mother, it’s the least you can do.”
“Grandma, cereal is fine. It’s a nice change.”
Bunny ignored that. “What’s next? Store-bought cookies? Fast food for dinner? Taking care of your family is your most important job.”
“You’re right, Mom,” Harper snapped. “Right now that means keeping food on the table. To pay for that, I have to work, so forgive me if I don’t have time to make waffles from scratch every single morning.”
“I always found the time.”
“You didn’t have a job.”
Becca quickly finished her cereal, then put the bowl on the floor for Jazz to lap up the milk. When the dog was done, she set the bowl in the sink and escaped. Harper wished she could run off with her.
“I didn’t have a job because I managed to keep my husband happy,” Bunny said in a huff. “Perhaps if you’d treated Terence a little better, he wouldn’t have left.”
The low blow connected right in her stomach.
“Mom, you don’t know anything about what went wrong in my marriage. It’s my business and you don’t have the right to judge me.”
“I’m not. I’m simply pointing out that if you—”
Harper’s cell phone rang. She grabbed it gratefully. “Mom, this is a client.”
“But it’s barely seven.”
“Yes, I know.” She pushed the button to accept the call. “This is Harper.”
“It’s Cathy. How are the bags coming?”
“They’ll be ready on time.” No way Harper was going to tell her they were already finished. Cathy would assume Harper had been exaggerating the time needed. Explaining she’d literally stayed up all night to finish them wouldn’t help, either.
“I’m glad to hear that. I have another job for you.”
“I was talking to you,” Bunny said between clenched teeth. “Tell her you’ll call her back.”
Harper turned her back on her mother, something she knew she was going to pay for. And speaking of paying. “Cathy, I’m happy to talk to you about more work, but I want to be clear. My rate is twenty-five dollars an hour, plus the cost of supplies. That is the price.”
“That’s ridiculous. My clients aren’t going to pay that.”
“Then I’m sorry but I can’t help you.”
“But you’ve always been willing to drop your price for me.” Her voice became softer. “Harper, I know you need the work. I’m doing you a favor.”
“What I need are jobs that pay me a reasonable amount. It’s your call, Cathy. I won’t be negotiating any more discounts.”
“That is totally unacceptable. Goodbye, Harper.” The phone went dead.
Harper turned back to her mother. Bunny raised her eyebrows. “With an attitude like that, it’s surprising you have any clients. Twenty-five dollars an hour for what you do? That’s ridiculous.”
“Thanks for the support, Mom.”
“What? I’m being honest.”
“Right now I would rather you weren’t. That’s me being honest.”
Before she could say any more, she heard a quick knock on the front door, then Thor raced into the house followed by Lucas calling out, “It’s me.”
The hundred-and-ten-pound dog bounced up to Harper and woofed. Jazz joined him and they greeted each other with a quick sniff before tearing off into the living room. Lucas appeared with Persimmon at his side.
“Good morning,” the young woman said, sounding way too cheerful. “Thor and Jazz are so sweet together. Hi, Harper. Hi, Bunny.”
The gorgeous redhead wore a cute little dress and heels, which only made Harper feel even more frumpy and tired. Lucas walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“There’s no hot breakfast,” Bunny announced. “Harper has more important things to do with her time.” She looked at Lucas. “Would you like me to make you an omelet? I’m sure there’s something in the refrigerator, unless my daughter has stopped going to the grocery store.”
Lucas shot Harper a look. She wasn’t sure if it was questioning, filled with pity or both. Regardless, she waved him toward the table, figuring Persimmon would join him. While Bunny was distracted, Harper escaped to her small office. She would hide out there until everyone was gone. Maybe then she could get a couple of hours of sleep.
Her phone rang again. She put in her earpiece, then hit the button.
“This is Harper.”
“It’s Misty. Is it too early? I’m sorry to be calling, but I had to tell you.”
Her comedian client sounded breathless, but in a happy way.
“It’s not too early. What’s up?”
“You aren’t going to believe it. I don’t believe it. Oh, Harper, I’m going to be on an HBO special! It’s called Rising Stars or something like that. I can’t remember because I’m still in shock. It’s taping in a few weeks and then I’m going on tour.”
“Misty, that’s so fabulous. Congratulations. You’ve worked hard for this big break. How can I help?”
“I want new T-shirts. Something fun. Oh, and let’s be wild and get the ones that are the nicer material.”
Harper was already taking notes. “I’ll call the vendor as soon as we hang up and have her rush us samples. How many do you think you want?” Because there were price breaks at different levels.
“Let me think about that and get back to you. Once the special airs, I should be able to sell more. Oh, and I need to get you the tour info so you can ship me the T-shirts as I go.”
“And care packages?” Harper asked.
“Please. They save me.”
When Misty went on the road, she was gone for several weeks at a time. Harper shipped her snacks and toiletries so Misty didn’t have to worry about any of that. She also shipped T-shirts to each hotel, saving Misty from having to haul them from town to town.
Harper continued to make notes. “I’m so happy for you. This is the best news I’ve had all week.”
“I’m so excited. Thanks, Harper. I can relax knowing you’re going to handle things for me.”
“Absolutely. My job is to make your life easier.”
Which was true. Now if only someone would do that for her.
* * *
Stacey came to a stop at the corner. Bay did the same, then sat down, her shoulders and right ear lined up with Stacey’s leg.
“Good girl,” Stacey told the dog, then lightly petted her head.
The instruction manual that had accompanied the dog had been impressive, as was the list of commands Bay had mastered. There were the usual come, sit, along with some interesting specialized commands. Bay could distinguish between different types of weapons and toxic gases. She was also comfortable working aboard a ship. Stacey didn’t know if that meant cargo or military. The notes had ended midsentence, as if the remaining information had simply been ripped away.
No doubt it was classified, Stacey thought as they crossed the street.
Bay had settled easily into their home. She ate well and was perfectly friendly. Whatever training she’d been given was more about purpose than affecting her personality. Not that Stacey was surprised. She’d only met Great-Aunt Cheryl once but the woman had been a sensible sort. Not someone to leave dangerous animals to a sixteen-year-old.
Kit had taken Bay to the vet the previous Monday to confirm her pregnancy and get an approximate due date. The dog had been pronounced healthy. Per the records, Bay had given birth before, so the vet had been confident the dog would know what to do. Her records indicated she was up-to-date on all her vaccinations.
Stacey had already started researching the canine birthing process so she could be ready when the time came. Although it was very likely that Bay would have her puppies while Stacey was at work. Still, being prepared was always preferable.
She and Bay reached the corner drugstore that doubled as an Amazon drop box. She loosely tied the dog’s leash to the bike rack, then had her sit.
“Bay,” she said in a firm voice. The dog immediately met her gaze. “Bay, stay.” She paused. “No strangers.”
The dog’s nostrils flared slightly, but otherwise she didn’t move. According to the book, Bay would stay where she was told for at least two days. None of the dogs had been tested beyond that. In addition, the “no strangers” command meant she wouldn’t leave with anyone else. Should someone try, Bay would immediately start barking to alert Stacey.
“I won’t be very long,” she added, not sure Bay could understand her. Still, it was polite to let her know.
She walked into the drugstore and went to the back, where several dozen lockers of various sizes stood along one wall. After scanning the barcode on the email she’d received, she punched in the code and a locker opened. She retrieved the box.
It was the last of the items she’d ordered for Ashton’s visit. His room was ready with a new bed, linens and a desk. Kit had moved in a TV they rarely used. Stacey had added a few framed prints for color, then had gone online for a back-to-school bundle box. Ashton only had a couple of classes to finish, but she didn’t know if he would think to bring things like pens, paper and Post-it notes. Besides, who didn’t love school supplies?
She carefully tucked the box into her backpack so as not to strain her body. Carrying the baby had thrown her body out of alignment. Her prenatal yoga helped her strength and balance, but she wanted to make sure she didn’t pull a muscle.
Once the backpack was in place, she walked out and untied Bay.
“Good girl,” she told the dog as she crouched down and hugged her. Bay licked her cheek.
Stacey rose and started back to the house. She liked having Bay around. The dog was easy to take care of and good company. What she didn’t want to admit but couldn’t avoid was the fact that the dog was also a distraction from her own pregnancy.
The same with Ashton. Kit was a perfect husband and had never once mentioned the irony of her interest in getting Ashton’s room ready while refusing to do anything about their baby’s space. Every morning he tore another sheet off the calendar, gently reminding her that there was an inevitable end to what she was going through.
Sometimes Stacey wished the baby was already here so she wouldn’t be worrying about what was going to happen. She would already know if she could fake being a decent mother or not.
If only she was more like Harper, she thought. Talented and loving, with great mothering skills. But Stacey wasn’t. She and her sister had always been close but oh so different. One of her earliest Christmas memories was of opening an Easy-Bake Oven from Santa. She’d immediately started mixing together ingredients—not to bake a cake, but to get a chemical reaction.
Bunny had never understood and Stacey’s dad hadn’t much cared. He’d regretted not having sons instead of daughters. But Grandpa Wray had been there for her. He’d wanted to talk about things like jet propulsion and living on Mars, and she’d wanted to listen.
He’d been the one to show her how to use a telescope and a microscope. When girls her age had been playing with dolls, she’d been trying to find a science club and building computers. With Grandpa Wray’s help, she’d gotten to go to Space Camp when she was nine. The following summer, while the rest of the family had been at Disney World, she and Grandpa Wray had visited Cape Canaveral and been taken on a private tour.
“Grandpa Wray wanted me to be an astronaut,” she told Bay as they turned onto their street. “I would have been interested if there had been a Mars mission on the horizon, but that’s still so many years away. I went into medical research instead.” She smiled at the dog. “He was a great man. You would have liked him.”
Bay’s stubby tail wagged as she listened attentively.
“I always fit with Grandpa Wray,” she continued. “He didn’t care that I was smart or awkward or that I couldn’t make piecrust by the time I was eight.” Unlike her mother, who had cared about all those things. Bunny had always resented her youngest being more interested in how the world worked than how to knit, sew or decoupage. How many times had Harper stood up for her, defending her when Bunny went on the attack?
Stacey undid Bay’s leash as they entered the house, then lowered her backpack onto a chair. She checked on the Crock-Pot chili Kit had started that morning before walking into the bedroom to change out of her work clothes.
French doors led to their fenced backyard. Although they were only a mile or two from the ocean, they didn’t have a view. Stacey had never understood paying for something as silly as the ability to see something in nature. The brain responded to inputs that were essential for survival. Everything else faded into the background. She knew that she would cease to see a view within a matter of weeks, so why pay for it?
She’d already bought the house when she met Kit. The first time he’d come over, she’d told him her theory about views. He’d responded by telling her she was about the sexiest woman he’d ever met.
The news had surprised her. Stacey knew she was relatively attractive and she kept herself fit. There had always been men in her life—no one all that special, but she’d had boyfriends. Still, she’d frequently had the sense that they were more interested in her body than in her brain. Kit was the first romantic partner who made her feel safe and loved for who she was.
She changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt, then walked barefoot to the living room. Bay trailed along with her. Once the DVD was in the machine, Bay curled up in her bed by the sofa. She glanced at the door before putting her head down.
“Kit will be back in an hour,” Stacey told her. “He goes to a support group for stay-at-home dads.” Something he’d started when they’d learned she was pregnant.
“Kit’s like that. He asks for help. He solicits advice. He’s extremely well-adjusted.” All things she admired about him, probably because none of those characteristics described her. He’d suggested she look for a support group for working moms but so far she hadn’t been interested.
There’s something wrong with you! You’re not a normal girl.
The memory echoed unexpectedly in her mind, as vivid and uncomfortable as it had been when the words had first been screamed at her.
She’d been thirteen and eager to talk to her mother. Stacey had secretly scheduled a meeting with one of the high school counselors to talk about an accelerated program so she could go to college early. She’d already decided to focus on medical research—especially diseases of the central nervous system—so why wait to get started?
With the information in hand, Stacey was determined to convince her mother to let her start the process in the fall. Bunny had wanted to talk about the fact that a boy had called for Stacey.
Looking back, Stacey realized they’d talked at cross purposes for nearly ten minutes before figuring out what the other was saying. Stacey had dismissed the call while Bunny had refused to discuss Stacey starting high school in the fall and finishing in two years.
“No man wants a woman who’s that smart,” her mother had told her. “Accept who you are.”
“This is who I am,” she’d yelled back. “I want to go to college. I don’t want to talk to some stupid boy on the phone, okay?”
“There’s something wrong with you. You’re not a normal girl.”
She’d brushed off the assessment, raced to her room and had immediately called her grandpa Wray. He and Bunny had fought for days, while Stacey’s father had ignored whatever was going on at home and Harper had offered Stacey sisterly support. In the end, the outcome was inevitable. Bunny might not like it, but she could never say no to her father. He was, after all, a man.
As Stacey stood with her feet shoulder-width apart and began to concentrate on her breathing, she acknowledged yet more irony in her life. Bunny wanted her daughters to be exactly like her and she resented that Stacey refused to cooperate. That Stacey had been able to go to college when she was barely sixteen had happened because a man had intervened. She’d achieved her escape and her success in part because of her mother’s anachronistic worldview.
She should find humor in that, only she couldn’t. Instead she pressed her right hand against her growing belly and wondered if it was possible her mother was right. And if there was something wrong with her, how would that play out for Baby Joule?
