Page 93 of The Do-Over

I totally could.

“So, I shut him down. Even though he didn’t know the real reason.” With a steadying breath, she turned to face me. “Do you think he hates me?”

I shook my head. “But I think he wishes he could.” I covered her hand with mine and squeezed. “Have you thought that you might feel the same way about him?”

“I-I’m engaged to be married.”

The misery in her voice made my own heart break a little. “I know it would be hard to call off the wedding, but an engagement doesn’t mean you’re married yet. You have choices.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that to Joel. Or to Mom. She’d lose her mind.”

“Mom isn’t the one who’s getting married. She would get over it.” Probably. Maybe.

She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin and plastered on her pageant smile, even if it wobbled a bit. “Joel and I are getting married. In fact, he asked me to move in with him at the end of the month and I said yes.”

The next Monday, Miss Marge greeted me with a shout from her office as soon as I arrived at work. Even though it was before 7 a.m., a fine sheen of sweat graced my forehead from my walk in the hotter-than-Hades September weather. Fall was a myth in Texas.

Work was going well. Miss Marge had finally allowed me to digitize the sign-in/sign-out sheets, and I’d helped her set up direct deposit for payroll. Which she’d even grudgingly admitted was easier. She’d offered me the position of head preschool teacher. The pay was the same, but with more responsibility.

I, of course, had said yes.

I peeked into Marge’s office. “Morning.”

Glasses perched on her nose, she flicked her eyes from the computer screen—yes, my evil plan had succeeded—to me. “Perci. Good, just who I needed to talk to. Come, have a seat.”

I sidled into the office. “What’s up?”

She pulled off her glasses, her face serious. “I wanted to give you plenty of notice. The daycare will be closing in October.”

“What do you mean, closing?” I dropped into the chair across from her.

“The property was purchased, and my lease is up. The new owner hiked up the rent. I’ve been trying to see if I could make it work and I just can’t.”

“But what about the kids? What about you?” What about me?

“Clients will get notified tomorrow. I wanted to let all the employees know today.” She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I’ve been here for over twenty-five years. I’m old and tired. It’s time for me to go spend time with my grandbabies. I guess I’ll sell the house and move to Austin to be closer to them.”

I slumped in my seat. “I love it here. This job has been so good for me.”

“And you’ve been good for this place.” She leaned forward, her face serious. “You’re good with the kids, with the parents, with all the business stuff. My son still can’t believe you got me to start using computers.”

“I’ll miss you,” I whispered, and got myself out of that office before I started crying.

The rest of the day dragged. No amount of hugs from the tiny monsters or declarations of love from three-year-olds pulled me from my funk. I’d spent the last several months falling in love with this place. More than that, I’d found a job I loved, and I’d become a version of myself that I loved while doing it. Sure, it wasn’t the most lucrative in terms of money, and it wasn’t a job my mom “approved” of, but it made me happy, excited to wake up each morning. And now? It would be gone, and I would be back to square one. I wanted to throw up at the thought of looking for a new job. Eventually, I’d have to tell my family that I’d lost another job, failed at another thing.

As other employees received Miss Marge’s news, the mood grew somber. By the time 3 p.m. rolled around, I slunk out the door with a heavy heart. The sun beat down without mercy. Slipping on my sunglasses, I turned onto the sidewalk and stopped. My feet rooted themselves right there and refused to move.

There was a sign—one of those inexpensive For Rent signs on metal prongs—pushed into the patch of grass next to the sidewalk. I was sure it hadn’t been there this morning.

I blinked, wanting to shake my head in the exaggerated way a confused cartoon character would. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be real. But no amount of silent prayers changed it.

My chest tightened, face growing hot with disbelief and then with flat-out, white-hot anger as I read the sign in its entirety.

For Rent. For information, contact Mayfield Home Mortgage

THIRTY-SEVEN

“I may be poor but it don’t cost nothing to pay attention.”