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Summer wasn’t making sense. Erica pointed to the stools at the island. “Sit down and take a breath. Then start at the beginning.”
“Mo-om! You’re not listening!”
“That’s because you’re not making sense. Please sit down. I’m going to listen, but you have to calm down a little so I can understand what you’re saying.”
Summer groaned but did as she was told. She slumped on a stool, the ratty flannel shirt she wore as a light jacket hanging off one shoulder.
Erica allowed herself a second to lament, yet again, that her only child had no interest in anything related to her appearance. Aside from showering and wearing sunscreen, Summer did nothing to take care of her skin. She eschewed makeup of any kind, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts in the winter and shorts and T-shirts in the summer, and refused to do more than tie her long hair back in a ponytail or braid. She was a beautiful young woman but acted as if she were invisible. Or indifferent.
Peter’s doing, Erica thought grimly. A few years before the divorce Peter had started dismissing Erica’s business as frivolous and superficial. At first the comments had been teasing but over time they’d gotten more pointed. Eventually they’d taken root.
She held in a sigh—yet something else not to think about.
“You saw Allison,” she prompted her daughter. “She was upset.”
Summer nodded vigorously. “They were both crying and she tried to tell me it was nothing, but I knew something had happened. She said it was pregnancy hormones.” The tears returned. “She couldn’t eat, Mom. Allison always does what they say to take care of the baby. She’s a really good mom.”
Erica told herself to ignore the admiration in her daughter’s voice. It was nice that she got along with her stepmother. Erica should be proud of her, and she would be. Later.
Summer detailed how Allison had tried to hide a problem, but after Jackson went to bed, she’d confessed the truth. Peter had been arrested and the family bank accounts had been frozen, leaving Allison with no money and no husband.
“She’s pregnant, Mom. Bethany is due in like three months. She already works two jobs, but she can’t stay at the grocery store much longer because it’s too hard on her. And now Dad’s in jail and we’re all so scared.”
Erica took a seat as she tried to process the information. Peter in jail? She couldn’t imagine it. He wasn’t a stellar businessman but he wasn’t dishonest. All right, he’d taken money from her company, but she’d assumed that had been more about bitterness and wanting to hurt her than because he was a criminal.
“She doesn’t know what’s happening or how to contact him,” Summer continued, pushing a strand of dark hair off her face. “She’s alone and pregnant and there’s no one to take care of her.”
Erica tried not to show her annoyance at Summer’s insistence on protecting her stepmother.
“Allison is very capable and together,” she said, her tone soothing. “She’ll figure it out. I know this sounds awful, but it’s probably not as bad as it seems. This has to be a misunderstanding. Your father isn’t a criminal. He can get out on bail.”
Summer wiped her cheeks. “How? There’s no money. Everything is frozen by the bank. I didn’t even know they could do that. It’s not right. She has to buy food and diapers. They’re going to starve, Mom!”
“Not today. Let’s give Allison some time to figure out what’s going on.”
“But she doesn’t know how. She’s not like you, Mom. You can do stuff like that. Or Killion can. Please. She’s so scared.”
Erica held in a sigh. Obviously Summer wasn’t going to let it go.
“I’ll talk to Killion,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as grudging as she felt.
Summer pushed off the stool and hugged her. “You’re the best! Thanks, Mom. It’s just Allison is all alone and Dad’s in jail and I don’t know what to think.”
Erica nodded. “It’s a lot, but we’ll figure it out. Allison will be fine. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.” Summer picked up her backpack. “You’ll come talk to me after you call Killion?”
“I will.”
She waited until her daughter had gone upstairs, then pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts.
“It’s me, Erica,” she said when Killion answered.
He chuckled. “I have you in my contact list, Erica. I know that it’s you.”
She smiled. “I’m happy to hear that.”
She liked Killion. He was a good guy—successful, low-key emotionally. He worked hard and liked that she did the same. Trust had come slowly, after her divorce. She’d waited nearly two years before going out with a man. Her first forays into the dating scene had been a disaster, so she’d given up on the idea, only to meet Killion a few months later. While theirs wasn’t a conventional relationship, she enjoyed having him in her life.
