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Seriously, how could the man be worried about his wardrobe while he was in jail? Although she supposed it would be foolish to not get the clothes. It wasn’t as if they could afford to replace them.
She found his blue blazer in their closet. When she stuck her hand in the right-hand pocket, she felt several pieces of paper. But not a dry cleaning receipt—a wad of twenty-dollar bills.
She sank onto the bed and spread out the money. She counted five hundred dollars. Given how grim things were right now, it felt like all the money in the world. Five hundred dollars! She could buy the fruits and vegetables Jackson needed. She could buy meat! And pay the utility bills and put gas in her car. If she didn’t have to use the credit card for that sort of thing, she might squeeze an extra month of medical insurance out of it.
She flopped onto her back and smiled up at the ceiling. Peter had known about the money and wanted her to have it. He was right—he was taking care of her. He was a good man who loved her. Somehow they would fix what was going wrong and they could be together again. For always.
6
Erica chopped the zucchini into even cubes. She’d already done the carrots, onion and celery. Once she’d finished with the red peppers and bok choy, she would steam the carrots for a few minutes so they were nearly cooked and ready to be tossed into the Thai-inspired stir-fry. Summer’s rice was in a bowl, ready to be popped into the microwave, and the peanut sauce was made.
Erica eyed the fluffy white rice she batch-cooked for her daughter. As a rule, Erica avoided carbs. Not only did she feel better when she ate less of them, it was easier to keep her weight in check. When she indulged it was on things she really loved like pasta or great bread—neither of which she was serving tonight.
Dinner was ready to go, but one key element was missing. Summer.
Erica glanced at the kitchen clock. They ate at six the nights they were together and her daughter was always on time. But at quarter ’til, there was no sign of the teen. Their only communication had been a text around three saying Summer was going to stop off to see Allison and Jackson before coming home.
“She better not have stayed for dinner without telling me,” she grumbled aloud. They had a schedule. Erica made sure she was home for dinner at least one school night and every Sunday. Mara had her granddaughter over one or two nights a week. In addition to spending every other weekend with her father, Summer ate dinner there at least once a week. There were also the evenings she spent with friends, although so far, not with a boyfriend.
Erica wasn’t sure why her daughter didn’t have someone special in her life. She was well-liked, pretty and while smart enough to be interesting, not intimidatingly smart. Boys her age were often wary of someone too smart. Or too goal oriented, she thought, remembering how when she’d been in high school, she’d been busy working on a business plan to buy out her mom and launch her empire. The guys in her class hadn’t found her drive the least bit appealing.
She heard the mudroom door open, followed by rapid footsteps. Summer burst into the kitchen, her ratty oversize plaid shirt hanging off one shoulder, her backpack slipping to the floor.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching the time.”
The teen shrugged out of the shirt jacket and let it fall on top of her backpack. She quickly unlaced her very ugly construction-style boots before stepping out of them and hurrying over to Erica. She wrapped her arms around her and hung on.
“I’ll wash my hands, then set the table.”
Erica stroked her back. “We’re having stir-fry. We’re not on a tight schedule. Are you all right?”
Summer stepped back and shook her head. “No. Oh, Mom, it’s so awful. Allison is totally freaked about what’s happening with Dad. She tried to make me feel better by telling me she has a credit card she can use and stuff, but it didn’t work. She knows how many diapers she has!”
Erica held in a sigh. Obviously the issue with Peter wasn’t going away anytime soon, so she would have to be patient. Unfortunately patience when it came to her ex-husband was in short supply.
“Knowing how many diapers you have isn’t earth-shattering,” she said calmly. “When you have a baby or toddler, you need that kind of information. The last thing you want is to run out.”
She put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I know this is really hard for you. Everything about the situation is upsetting and confusing. Allison is dealing with a lot right now, and it doesn’t seem fair. She has little Jackson and is pregnant.”
“I know. It’s horrible.” Summer’s eyes filled with tears. “She doesn’t have anyone, Mom.”
“She has friends and coworkers, and she has Peter.” She deliberately softened her tone. “Sweetie, you’re so caring and softhearted, plus we’re talking about your dad, so of course you’re processing emotion. Nothing about what’s happening makes sense to any of us. But give it time. In the next couple of weeks, we’ll find out what’s really going on and then we can deal.”
Summer nodded slowly, then wiped her eyes. “I’m so scared.”
“I know. But we’ll get through this. Can you let it go long enough to enjoy dinner?”
She nodded again. “I’ll try.”
“Good. I’ll steam the carrots, then start the stir-fry.”
“I’ll set the table.”
Summer disappeared down the hall to the half bath. Erica heard the sound of running water, as her daughter washed her hands. She dumped the carrots into the steamer. The water was already boiling, so the cooking time would be short. She gave the sauce a quick stir.
By the time the carrots were ready, Summer had set the table and poured herself a large glass of milk. She set ice water in front of her mom’s place mat.
Erica heated her wok and quickly seared the chicken pieces. Once they were done, she dumped them into a clean bowl, then began adding vegetables. She kept everything moving, adding the next group as the first ones began cooking through. The bok choy went in last, followed by the cooked chicken. A minute later, she stirred in the sauce. She heard the microwave beep as Summer finished heating her rice.
