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He nodded and turned away. Only then did she notice the battered truck parked behind her Subaru. Seconds later, he drove down the street. She was shaking when she closed and locked the door.
Her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing was ragged. How could Peter know a man like that? Okay, maybe he was nicer than he looked, but he’d scared her. Worse, he knew who she was and where she lived.
She glanced down at the envelope in her hand. When she lifted the flap, she saw hundred-dollar bills. Lots of them. She hurried to the kitchen table, where she dumped them out and began to count.
Seconds later, she was ten thousand dollars richer than she’d been five minutes before. Ten thousand dollars! She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know where the money had come from and despite everything, couldn’t bring herself to care. While she still didn’t have proof of income for an apartment, this covered all her other expenses. She could pay the minimum on the credit card and keep that going. She could pay for medical insurance through Bethany’s birth. She could afford diapers and gas and still have money for any emergency.
She sank into a chair and gave in to tears. Jackson walked over. She pulled him close and hugged him.
“It’s okay,” she said, doing her best to smile. “I’m just tired. Everything is going to be okay.”
She had resources—at least for the moment, and as long as she didn’t think about the fact that in less than two months she would be homeless, then she had a lot to be grateful for.
Summer’s game had been called on account of weather, but not before everyone got soaked. Erica peeled off her wet jeans and hung them over the tub in her bathroom. She was damp and shivering. It felt like one of those nights when she would never get warm.
She replaced her wet underwear with dry panties, then slipped on thick leggings and a pair of Uggs. The fleece lining would eventually warm her feet. She’d already put on a cashmere sweater over a long-sleeved T-shirt. She didn’t bother with her hair. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight—it could dry as weird as it wanted. She was about to walk out of the bathroom when she heard music over the house’s sound system. The opening beats of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” made her smile.
“Oh, Mom, you do have your fantasies.”
Practical Magic was one of her mother’s favorite movies and she was forever trying to recreate the scene where the adult characters all danced together in the kitchen. Their song of choice had been something about a lime and a coconut. Mara had chosen the Queen song for their dance party. So far only she and Erica were drinking the margaritas, but Mara was counting the days until Summer could join them.
Erica found her mother and daughter dancing together by the kitchen island. She joined them, laughing and singing along. The ingredients for margaritas were by the blender and burger fixings were on the island.
This was good, she thought, clapping her hands. This life with her family. Summer, cleaned up from her game, spun in a circle, her damp ponytail swinging out behind her. Erica stared at it.
“You cut your hair!”
The words came out louder and more forceful than she’d intended. It didn’t help that the song ended at that exact moment, leaving the kitchen silent.
Mara avoided her gaze while her daughter put her hands on her hips. “Oh, Mom, please. I asked Reese to cut off a few inches. It was getting too long. Don’t make a big deal about it. Come on. It’s just hair.”
Erica ignored the sense of rejection and dismissal that came with every conversation about her daughter’s appearance. Summer was basically a good kid, but she did seem to go out of her way to diss what Erica did for a living.
“You could have asked me or your grandmother,” she said, going for the judgment-free, conciliatory tone and falling a little short. “I’m sure Reese meant well, but the edges are uneven and you could use some layers.”
Summer rolled her eyes. “Really? Layers? I don’t do layers. I don’t care about my appearance. I’m not like you. I care about important things.”
The slap came out of nowhere. Erica stiffened. Before she could think what to say, her mother stepped between them.
“No,” Mara said sharply to her granddaughter. “Neither of us is willing to accept that kind of disrespectful attitude. If it makes you happy to not care about how you look, then go for it, but insulting your mother will not be allowed.”
Mara pointed at Summer. “It’s just hair? Is that what you said? It’s just hair? Well, young lady, the ‘just hair’ you dismiss is the reason you live in a nice house and have a car you didn’t have to pay for. It’s the reason you don’t worry about paying for college. It covers all the fees so you can be on your softball team. Your mother is a gifted businesswoman who built what she has from almost nothing. You claim you’re not interested in the beauty industry, that you want to study business. I’m not sure I believe a word you say. You have a living example right here in your own home and instead of appreciating that and trying to learn from her, you act like a rude little brat. I’m very disappointed in you.”
Erica blinked at her mother. For the most part, Mara didn’t get involved in disciplining her granddaughter, but every now and then she took charge. Today was yet one more excellent example of why you didn’t want to ever cross Mara Sawyer.
Summer seemed to crumple. “Grandma, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell the truth? Am I wrong about any of it?”
Summer’s lower lip quivered. “You were so mean.”
“So were you.”
Erica had to consciously keep herself from comforting her daughter. But she knew that would dilute the message.
“Grandma!”
Mara stared at her. “You’re welcome to run to your room and pout, or you can apologize and we can move on.”
