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In this moment, it didn’t matter. I was free and safe. Euphoria filled me. When planning, I’d known that this would be the turning point, but it felt so much better than I’d imagined. I rolled the window down again for a few seconds, sucking in the clean air of freedom—freedom I hadn’t realized I’d been missing for such a long time. Freedom from Kevin’s critiques.
If I weren’t sitting, I’d be dancing—in private of course. The sight of me, the nerd girl who didn’t know the first thing about dancing, kicking her heels up in happiness? That wasn’t something the world was ready for.
Closing the window again, I resolved to put off questioning myself until later. Learning the lessons from my past would take time.
It was time to move on down my list. I pulled up my spreadsheet again. Yup. Buying my new phone had been number three, and I’d crossed it off last week.
Turning it on now was number nine. I rooted in my purse for a pen.
I looked up barely in time.
The horn from the oncoming truck woke me, and I swerved to the right, barely missing him.
With my heart racing, I pulled off to the shoulder again.
At this rate, I wasn’t going to make it in one piece. Distracted driving could be the death of me, and I’d never make it to the final item on my list—file papers for legal name change. That one would let me sleep soundly, knowing Kevin would never find me. I’d no longer be Angela Lerner, and my fresh name would allow me to disappear. Further down my list was the item to actually pick that name, and I hadn’t decided yet. Maybe Phoenix for a last name, to signify my new life rising from the ashes of my prior one.
After a few seconds of hyperventilating, I pulled the new phone from the paper bag it had hidden in since I bought it. I’d sent the number to Dad, Laurie, and Debbie, but nobody else had it—most of all, not Kevin or any of his friends. And not even Grace.
It lit up like a champ.
I plugged it in with the charging cord and punched up the contacts icon for directions to my stepsister’s house.
Nothing.
A blank screen.
Well, fuck me.
I hadn’t transferred my contacts before destroying the old phone.
So much for my perfect plan. Now I didn’t have Grace’s address.
Or her number to call and ask. Strike two.
* * *
Boone
A replayof last week’s Panthers game was on behind the bar. It wasn’t a particularly rowdy night at The Peanut Barrel, but the noise still drowned out the game.
My brother Case, short for Casey, slapped my shoulder. “Another beer will help.”
I shrugged and shelled a peanut from the basket in front of me. I’d made the mistake of answering honestly when he asked how things were going.
His fiancée, Jordan, pulled him away. “Let him wallow if he wants to. You owe me a game of pool.”
“It’ll get better,” said Case, ever the optimist, with conviction.
I lifted my bottle in salute as Jordan dragged him to the pool tables. As a physical therapist, he didn’t have employees who depended on him for their paychecks.
I did, and instead of getting better, things were getting worse. Today had given me a tension headache.
I’d only just bought the Lakeview Inn—the best hotel and spa combination in town—and now Grace Plinken, the manager, was leaving for a month’s vacation in the Caribbean with her husband, on my nickel no less. I told myself it was short-term pain to keep a long-term employee happy, and I didn’t have much of a choice. It had been stipulated by the previous owner in our sales contract. My hardware store didn’t run itself, and I’d quickly learned there was more to running a hotel than I’d thought.
Sonya, the bartender and owner here, came by and refilled my peanut basket. She pointed at the beer I was nursing. “Another?”
I slid the glass toward her. “Sure.” As a business owner myself, I knew I was taking up one of her prime-revenue seats. I nodded toward Rusty three seats down. “And one for him.”
