Page 22 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“He can’t do that,” Mr. Poulos says.

I shrug. “There wasn’t much I could do. He was married to my mom. He was her next of kin, so the house went to him, and when he didn’t want me around anymore, I had to leave.”

Mrs. Poulos balls her fists at her side. “That jerk,” she bites. “I knew there was something off about him. He was always a little standoffish, but we liked your mother, so we figured everything was fine.” She gently grabs my hand and presses her palm over the small gold cross necklace she’s wearing. “God rest her soul.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“And then we noticed one day you weren’t around anymore,” Mrs. Poulos says.

“I asked him about it, but all he said was that you decided to move out,” Mr. Poulos says. “I thought it was strange, but I didn’t push it.” His shoulders sink.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. We had no idea he made you leave,” Mrs. Poulos says.

“It’s okay. I’m surviving.” I try to smile, but it feels so forced. I’m sure it looks that way too.

“Oh, honey.” She hugs me again. “Please tell me you have a roof over your head.”

“Because if you don’t, we’re moving you into our place,” Mr. Poulos says. “We’ve got a full house now that our daughter Gabriella moved in with her husband and their toddler, but we’ll make room for you.”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Poulos says.

Warmth pools in my chest at their generosity. As much as I wish I could take them up on their offer to house me, I can’t. They live in a small, two-bedroom, one-bathroom home. I’m sure it’s already crowded with their daughter’s family living there. I can’t ask them to accommodate me too.

“I have a place to live, don’t worry,” I lie.

They both look relieved. Mrs. Poulos gives my hand a squeeze. “If anything changes, you better tell us, okay?”

“I will.” I glance back at the pile of boxes. “I’m just here to pick up some of my mom’s things. Richard said he was going to throw them away if I didn’t come get them right away.”

Mrs. Poulos’s expression turns angry. “That bastard. He’s gonna pay for what he’s done to you.”

“I just want to grab her stuff and leave before he comes out and sees me.”

I walk back over to the curb and start to grab some boxes, but then I freeze. I don’t have room in my car for most of this stuff.

I turn around right as Mr. and Mrs. Poulos frown at my car, which is packed to the brim with boxes and bags.

I quickly try to think of a convincing excuse to tell them. If they figure out I’m living in my car, they’ll insist I move in with them, and I can’t be a burden on them. They’re in their sixties and supporting their daughter’s family too.

“I’m in the middle of helping a friend move,” I say quickly.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Mrs. Poulos looks back at me. I can tell she doesn’t totally believe me, though.

I put one of the boxes in my crammed backseat.

“Lucy, honey, why don’t you leave your mom’s things with us?”

I turn around to them. “What?”

“You’re clearly busy helping your friend,” Mrs. Poulos says. “If you can’t fit everything in your car now, just leave it with us, and you can come back and get it some other time.”

“Whenever you’d like,” Mr. Poulos says with a gentle smile. “No rush at all.”

Emotion squeezes up my throat. They’re so kind.

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

Her eyes are misty as she smiles. “Not at all.”