Page 132 of Property of Whiskey

“Your mother told me she had Wren.”

My jaw tightens. “Mama didn’t call you.”

“No. Holler did.”

My hand closes around the edge of the door, keeping the opening narrow enough that Beth would have to go through me to enter.

I make a mental note to kill Holler later.

“Wren ain’t here.”

“I know. She’s at school.”

“Then go.”

Her expression twists. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“I’m her mother.”

“Barely.”

“Whiskey.”

“No.”

She steps closer. “You don’t have to treat me like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m clean.”

“We ain’t doing this today.”

“I’ve been clean four months.”

“Heard.”

“From Holler?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still won’t let me see her.”

“No.”

Tears gather in her eyes. Used to work on me. Long time ago.

“I made mistakes.”

“You left her alone forty-six hours.”

“I know.”

“She was five.”

“I know!”