Chapter 8
Allison worked her way through the rental application. The questions were fairly straightforward, but she didn’t find the process easy. Take the first line: “Name of applicant(s).” Obviously she was married and she would lease an apartment with her husband. Only she wasn’t sure if she should put Peter on the lease or not. Would he be out of jail in time for him to sign it? And if he wouldn’t, was it legal for her to lease the place in just her name? She simply didn’t know.
She left him on the lease, thinking she could take out his name later if she wanted and continued to fill out information, only to stumble over a question about arrests and convictions. While Peter hadn’t been convicted of anything, he had been arrested.
She skipped that question and scrolled down to the next section of the application, then held in a groan. She told herself she wasn’t going to cry, that she would get through this, no matter what, but no matter how she blinked, she felt tears filling her eyes.
Applicants must provide proof of income that is at least three times the monthly rent. A W-2 plus the last three paychecks is sufficient. If income comes from another source, proof of income must be provided, along with two years of tax returns.
She didn’t have enough proof of income, mostly because she didn’t have enough money coming in. At the day care, she’d mostly been paid in childcare credits and her job at the grocery store was only part-time. By herself, she didn’t come close to qualifying.
With Peter’s income, she would be fine. His company was a corporation so he got regular paychecks. She could provide pay stubs and his last W-2, only he wasn’t around to sign the lease. And what about the whole “Have you been arrested?” question? Not to mention there wasn’t going to be a current paystub.
The unfairness stole her breath. She’d gone online looking for the cheapest one-bedroom apartment she could find. It was a piece of crap, with hardly any room, but she still couldn’t afford it. But in less than two months, she had to move out of the leased house. She had no money, no home, nowhere to turn.
Nothing about the situation was fair or reasonable or right. Desperate didn’t begin to describe her circumstances and the worst part was, she couldn’t figure a way out.
Jackson was busy playing with his farm. She figured she had about five minutes until he demanded attention. She shut the computer and closed her eyes, willing herself to stay strong. After she played with him for a bit, she would go back online and look at other options for housing. Maybe there was some organization that could help or—
The doorbell rang. Jackson looked up expectantly. Immediately the door opened and Summer stepped inside. Allison held in a groan of dread. While she loved Peter’s daughter, today was not a good day for a visit.
“It’s me,” Summer called, then spotted Allison on the sofa. Her smile faded as she walked inside. “You’ve been crying.”
“I haven’t.”
The lie was automatic. Allison wiped her cheeks. “I’m good.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s barely eleven. Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“We don’t have school today, so I came by to talk to you. I’m worried.”
“You don’t have to be. Jackson and I are fine.” She faked a smile. “Really. It’s all good.”
Summer didn’t look convinced by the statement, but just then Jackson squealed, waving his arms. Summer dropped to the floor and pulled him close for a hug.
“How are you, little man? Is that your farm? I love playing with the farm.”
He reached for one of the sheep and handed it to her.
“For me? Thank you. That’s so nice.”
Summer’s tone was upbeat and friendly, but she kept glancing over. Allison told herself to rally—that the teen wouldn’t stay long. She could fake being okay for an hour.
“When are you going to visit Dad?”
“Saturday.”
He’d given her his register number, so she’d figured out when she was allowed to go see him. Her application had been approved and even though all the Saturday appointments were full, the warden had given her permission because she hadn’t seen Peter since his arrest.
She’d also been given a detailed list of clothes she could and couldn’t wear, and what she could bring. Basically she was allowed to carry in her car key, a small amount of cash for the vending machines and her ID, along with a diaper and toy for Jackson. Lockers were provided for her handbag. Everything else stayed in the car.
“I’m off work so I can drive down and spend the full two hours with him.”
Summer’s large brown eyes widened. “Are you nervous?”
Yes, she thought. Visiting her husband in jail had never been part of her life plan.
“I’m sure everything will work out,” she lied. “I need to see Peter and he needs to see me and Jackson. I’ll get a lot more information.” At least that was the plan.
“You have to be so scared.” Summer’s voice was thick with concern. “You should talk to my mom.”
Allison wasn’t sure if she should bolt or laugh hysterically. Talk to Erica? That was never going to happen.
“Why? She has nothing to do with this.”
Given how horrible Peter always said his ex-wife was, she was probably gloating. A depressing thought, but most likely an accurate one.
“She can help. She’s really good with business and all that. She’ll have ideas.”
Spoken with all the earnestness of a sixteen-year-old who had never had to deal with the real world. Allison fought against exhaustion. There was too much going on. She wasn’t sleeping, she could barely bring herself to eat. Everything about her situation was hopeless and she didn’t see a way out. The last thing she needed in her life was quality time with Erica.
Allison drew in a breath. “I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not going to talk to your mom.”
“But what about Dad’s clients? You don’t know what to do with them.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m not badgering you—I want to make things better for you. Easier. Mom knows what she’s doing and she’s family. She wants to help.”
Your mother isn’t any family to me.Only she couldn’t say that—not to Summer. Mostly she adored the teen, who was always so wonderful with Jackson. And while she appreciated the support, she didn’t actually care about Peter’s clients.
Only without them, there wasn’t any future income. Once Peter was out of jail, he would need a business to go back to and she didn’t know the first thing about bookkeeping and taxes. Her eyes burned as she realized no matter where she turned, she was trapped.
“I can’t deal with his clients,” she admitted, wondering when she was going to hit bottom, because right now it seemed like the disasters just kept on coming. “I can’t deal with any of this.”
Summer slid Jackson to the floor, then hurried to the sofa and sat next to Allison. She put her arms around her and squeezed tight.
“We’re going to get through this,” the teen said fiercely. “We will. I’m scared, too. He’s my dad and I don’t know what’s happening. Thinking about what to do for you really helps me but you don’t have that.”
Allison managed a smile. “You understand a lot for just being a kid.”
“I know, right?” Summer bounced to her feet. “Let me text my mom right now and we’ll figure out a good time to get together. Do you want to meet here or at our house?”
Exhaustion joined worry, leaving her with a case of I don’t care.
What did it matter where they met? Nothing would come of the moment, with the possible exception of Erica doing her best to make her feel awful, stupid and small. Something Allison was perfectly capable of doing on her own.
“I doubt she’ll be able to do anything,” she murmured before she could stop herself.
Summer waved the comment away. “Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s really amazing. She has all kinds of people working for her and they mostly love her.” She flashed a grin. “Okay, they’re a little scared of her, too, but they would do anything for her.”
Allison couldn’t reconcile that statement with what she knew to be true about Peter’s ex-wife, so she ignored it. She slid onto the floor, next to Jackson, who beamed at her. He grabbed a cow and a chicken, then climbed onto her lap and waved his arms.
“I see them,” she said, faking a happy voice. “Chickens give us eggs.”
“And KFC,” Summer added, while typing on her phone. “Okay, so let’s get together tomorrow. We’ll figure out a plan, then you can talk to Dad about it on Saturday. You can tell Mom any specifics he shares and she’ll get it all managed.” She looked up with a smile. “One problem solved.”
Allison wished it could be that simple. Erica was a hairdresser with a few employees. How did that compare to Peter’s large accounting business? She had never done her own books—in fact Peter had been her accountant. That was how they had met.
But Summer meant well and Allison didn’t have it in her to refuse the kind offer. Especially when Summer was pretty much the only person she knew who was totally on her side.
Allison’s regrets about meeting Erica were immediate and only grew overnight. By the next morning, she was making lists of reasons it was a bad idea and wondering how to convince Summer to call the whole thing off. But between getting ready for her shift at the grocery store and dropping Jackson off at day care, she didn’t have time to do anything, and after six hours on her feet, she hurt too much to think, let alone act.
She collected her son, avoiding eye contact with Liz as they passed in the hallway.
“Are you all right?” her former friend asked, sounding concerned. “I’ve meant to call.”
Have you? Have you really?Allison could hear the snippy words in her head, but she didn’t say them. She had to assume that the horror of her current situation was temporary, and everything would work out. When that happened, she would want her job back.
“I’m hanging in there,” Allison lied, ignoring the throbbing in her lower back and the pounding headache. She shifted Jackson to her other hip. It felt like the kid had put on twenty pounds in a single morning.
“We miss you here,” Liz admitted. “The parents are asking after you. Any news about—” she paused “—the situation?”
Is that what they were calling it?
“Not yet, but I should know something soon.” Yet more lies, but why not?
Liz offered her a tentative smile. “As soon as everything goes back to normal, please come talk to me.”
“I will.”
“I’m really sorry about having to let you go. I didn’t want to.”
Allison smiled tightly, nodded once, then left, all the while thinking Liz hadn’t had to do anything. She knew Allison’s character and how great she was with the babies. They could have kept the information quiet, at least for a couple of weeks. But there was no point in dwelling on that tiny issue when she had whale-size ones swimming right at her.
She got Jackson into his car seat and started for home. She had just enough time to get him fed and herself changed before Summer and Erica showed up. No way she was facing Peter’s first wife wearing a bright pink T-shirt with the name of the grocery store blazoned across the front and stylized cantaloupes on the back.
But of course everything went wrong. Jackson threw more food than he ate and refused to drink his milk. He squirmed in his high chair, constantly looking at the door and asking for Dada. He kicked, he screamed, he wouldn’t look at her. Allison did her best to stay calm, but she wanted a little tantrum of her own. She wanted to scream that this wasn’t easy or fair, that her back hurt, her feet were swollen, she was scared, she was exhausted and in less than an hour, she would have to sit politely with the woman who had taken Peter for every penny he had during the divorce, forcing him to start over. In fact, excluding her husband being in jail, every bad thing that had happened in the past few days was practically Erica’s fault!
“Jackson, please! Just one more bite.”
He looked at her and burst into tears, then tossed his plate onto the floor. Food went flying, hitting cabinets and the floor. Applesauce oozed into a puddle. Bits of chicken and cheese piled together in the corner. Allison looked from the mess to the clock on the wall and knew that she just didn’t have it in her to care.
“Fine,” she said, taking off the tray and unstrapping him. “You want out? Get out and do whatever you want.”
She set him on the floor, then turned her back on him. Despite her large belly, she got down on her hands and knees and began clearing up the mess. Jackson stood where she’d left him, crying harder, but she ignored him. She’d reached her crisis limit and simply couldn’t deal with him this second.
It took fifteen minutes to clean up the worst of it. She lumbered to her feet and put the high chair back against the wall. After putting the dishes in the dishwasher, she rinsed out the sink, then risked a glance at the clock.
She only had ten minutes and Summer was never late.
She hurried into her bedroom. Jackson followed, his tears quieter now. He held out his arms to her, but she didn’t have time to make him feel better. She replaced her ugly comfort shoes for semicute clogs, tore off her work T-shirt and put on a pretty white blouse that was cut large enough to drape over her belly. She combed her hair, knew makeup simply wasn’t happening, then turned to her son.
He sat in the middle of her bedroom, butt on the floor, arms outstretched. His cries had become tired little mews and he looked miserable.
“All right,” she said, kneeling in front of him. “It’s okay.”
He got up and flung himself at her, his hot sweaty arms clinging hard.
“Shh.” She rubbed his back. “I know you weren’t trying to be difficult. Somehow you always know when I’m in a hurry and act up. It’s a gift. I wish you had a different one, but we need to work with this one.”
He was going to be hungry later, she thought. They both were because she hadn’t had time for dinner. Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would figure out something they both could eat, then they would spend a quiet evening on the sofa. They would listen to music while they played with a puzzle, then she would read to him until they were both sleepy.
“You’ll see,” she told him.
He took a step back and shook his head. “Tum-tum.”
“What?” The word was unfamiliar. What was he trying to say?
She reached for him just as his face twisted. Seconds later he threw up all over her shirt. He burst into tears, she wasn’t far behind and then the doorbell rang.
Allison knelt there, unable to believe what had just happened. Could the situation be any more unfair?
“It’s me,” Summer called. “I have my mom with me. Allison?”
“In here.”
But her voice was a resigned whisper and there was no way Summer could have heard. But Jackson recognized his precious Summy and shrieked for her. Summer walked into the bedroom.
“Are you—” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. What happened?”
“He didn’t like his dinner.”
“Let me help.”
“Is everyone all right?”
Erica followed her daughter into the bedroom. Allison held in a groan as she looked at the tall, perfectly dressed, un-vomited-upon woman who had been Peter’s first wife.
Erica’s dark hair was cut short in a soft, yet spiky style that brought out her incredible bone structure. Her makeup was subtle but perfect. She had on slim-fitting jeans, boots that looked house-payment expensive, a sweater and a chunky necklace that probably wasn’t costume jewelry. A brown bag covered with the initials LV was casually slung over one shoulder.
“Well, this is a mess,” Erica said, shaking her head. “All right, let’s get this under control. Summer, help Allison to her feet, then we’ll leave her to get changed. I’ll handle handsome Jackson here.”
She crouched down in front of the toddler and smiled broadly. “Hello. I’m Erica. We’ve met but I bet you don’t remember. Did you throw up? Are you feeling better or is your tummy still upset?”
Jackson stuck his fingers in his mouth as he moved close to Erica. His eyes were wide as he studied her, then he thrust both arms toward her. Erica reached for him.
“Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” Allison said. “He might have vomit on his shirt.”
But it was too late. The other woman had pulled him into her arms and rose with a graceful movement Allison could only envy.
“Not to worry. Clothes wash.” She nodded at her daughter. “Help your stepmother. I’ll get this one changed.”
Allison found herself pulled to her feet. She moved with all the ease of a mud-bound hippo. Summer collected a washcloth and a clean T-shirt.
“Why is Jackson sick? Was he feeling okay after day care? I wonder if they gave him cheese sticks for his snack. Sometimes that really messes with his tummy.”
Allison tried to appreciate the concern, but she was out of answers and low on patience.
“Could we not talk about that now?” she asked. “Please. I just need to get through this.”
Summer stared at her. “Okay. Are you mad?”
“No, just stretched really, really thin.”
Summer’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll wait with my mom.”
She left, closing the door behind her. Allison went into the small attached bath, telling herself she would deal with her stepdaughter’s trampled feelings later. She cleaned up as best she could, replacing the soiled blouse with a slightly too small T-shirt.
As she quickly brushed her hair, she saw the dark circles under her eyes and the blotches on her cheeks. She looked awful and felt worse. And now she got to face someone who defined perfect.
“Why am I being punished?”
But there was no answer. Just the faint sound of conversation from the other room.
She braced herself for what she knew would be an uncomfortable half hour, then went into the living room. Erica sat on the sofa with Jackson. He held her chunky necklace in his small hands. He was studying the stones and the metal, turning it over and over, before putting it in his mouth.
Allison nearly shrieked as she lunged for him. Erica waved her back.
“It’s fine. The piece is just back from the jeweler. A stone had fallen out. They made sure everything was secure and then they steam cleaned it. He can’t hurt it and the materials are perfectly safe for him.” She smiled. “I’m not suggesting it should be in a line of toys, but for the moment, it’s okay.”
Allison eyed the necklace, not sure how much it had cost. If it was real—gold and semiprecious gemstones—then possibly more than her car. Without meaning to, she looked around the small living room, wondering how Erica must see it. The furniture was inexpensive and a little worn. The paint was relatively fresh, and the hardwood floors were nice, but the window covers were the cheap blinds landlords favored and there wasn’t any artwork on the wall. Just a few photographs of the family, with an emphasis on Jackson.
“Thanks for changing his shirt,” she said, settling in one of the club chairs.
“Of course. His room is so cute. I love all the stuffed animals.” Erica smiled at her daughter. “Remember that lion you loved so much? You wouldn’t go to sleep without it.”
Her daughter grinned. “That was like twelve years ago, Mom. But yes, I remember.”
“Is your room on the other side of the house?”
At first Allison didn’t understand what Erica was asking. What room? Then she got it—Erica wanted to know where her daughter slept.
Summer shook her head. “I don’t have my own room. That cabinet across from the crib is a Murphy bed. It pulls down.”
“You sleep in the same room as Jackson?”
Erica sounded faintly outraged. Her gaze slipped between the toddler and the teen.
“It’s fine,” Summer told her. “Once he’s out, he’s out. Plus when I’m here, I take care of him in the morning so Dad and Allison get to sleep in.”
“I see.”
Allison had no idea what Erica was thinking, but it couldn’t be good. Worse was her faint sense of guilt, which she tried to ignore. The house was small and they were doing the best they could with what they had. Maybe if Erica hadn’t taken every single dollar she could in divorce, she and Peter wouldn’t be in such dire financial circumstances. He hadn’t gotten a penny from the house and she’d ripped away her business, all the while bad-mouthing him to his other clients. She was evil, Allison reminded herself. An awful person.
Only she wasn’t particularly awful with Jackson. She deftly distracted him with a large teddy bear and when he dropped the necklace, she casually slid it into her bag.
“When are you due?” Erica asked her.
“In ten weeks.”
“Have you seen Peter?”
“I’m going tomorrow.” The city of SeaTac wasn’t that far, but visiting the jail was going to be a challenge. She’d never been and didn’t know what to expect. “Getting in for visitation is harder than they make it look in the movies.”
“I’m sure there are hoops to jump through.” Erica pulled a small pad of paper out of her bag, along with a pen. “Summer mentioned you went by the business and all the computers are gone.”
Allison nodded. “No one was there. I don’t know if they all quit, or what.”
“Is Gail still the office manager?”
“Yes.”
Erica made a few notes. “She and I always got along. Let me get in touch with her and find out what she knows. Even with the computers confiscated, all the accounting records should be backed up somewhere. Possibly on the cloud or with a company like Carbonite. She should have the information. Does Peter have a lawyer yet?”
Allison told herself the questions made sense and she wasn’t being grilled, even if it felt as if she was. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said.”
Erica frowned. “He needs a lawyer.”
“I’m sure he’s aware of that.”
“These are serious charges. This isn’t some problem he can ignore, hoping it will go away.”
There was something in her tone—judgment and a touch of derision.
“Peter’s not like that,” Allison snapped. “He’s a good man.”
“All evidence to the contrary.”
“Mom!” Summer’s expression was pinched, her tone sharp. “You’re supposed to be helping.”
Erica stared at her daughter, then exhaled audibly. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Gail and see what’s happening with the business. I’ll text you what I find out and send along any suggestions I have. With the bank accounts frozen, the company can’t pay the bills or the lease. I wonder how long until they get thrown out.”
She sounded more intrigued by the question than worried by the answer, Allison thought bitterly.
“And the house,” Summer said. “Don’t forget Allison and Jackson have to move because the house is being sold.”
“I’ll find something,” Allison said, avoiding looking at either of them.
“But how will you pay for it? You don’t have any money. You’re pregnant and you have Jackson and Dad’s in jail.” Summer’s lower lip quivered. “I’m scared and I know you are, too.”
Without thinking, Allison held open her arms. Summer rushed to her and hung on.
“This is going to work out,” Allison said, knowing she was lying, but not wanting the teen to worry. “It’s going to be fine.”
“That’s what my mom keeps saying, but I don’t believe you or her.”
Involuntarily, she glanced at Erica. The other woman’s expression was unreadable, but there was tension in her jaw. Allison didn’t care about Erica being uncomfortable, but Summer was a different matter. She touched the teen’s shoulder.
“We’re going to get through this. Your mom is going to help with the business and I’ll handle the rest.”
Lies, all lies, she thought, hoping she was doing a good job of faking it. Summer was right—she was terrified. She was trapped in a horrible situation with no way out. Every day the news got worse. In a matter of weeks, she was going to be homeless and then she would have a baby. At some point she was going to have to give in to the inevitable and start looking at women’s shelters. And what happened to Jackson when she went into the hospital?
The fear churned in her belly, making her worry that it might be her turn to throw up. She forced herself to breathe, trying to let it go. Once Erica and Summer left, she could freak out, but until then, she had to stay calm.
Summer moved back to the sofa. She wiped her face, then smiled at Jackson. “You feeling okay?”
He grinned at her.
Erica slipped her notepad into her bag and rose. “We should get out of your way. You have to be exhausted from work and now that Jackson’s doing better, he’s probably going to be hungry.” She offered a tight smile. “Once I find out what’s going on at Peter’s office, I’ll be in touch.”
Allison pushed herself to her feet. Her back screamed in protest, but she ignored the discomfort. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Summer hugged her again, then scooped up Jackson and kissed both cheeks. “See you soon, big guy!”
He put his head on her shoulder. “Summy.”
Summer held him for several seconds before handing him back to Allison.
“Talk soon.”
Allison nodded and opened the front door. When they were gone, she walked over to the sofa and sank down. Jackson crawled off her lap and reached for his teddy bear.
“Hungwe.”
“I’ll bet you are. Just give Mommy a second and I’ll fix you another dinner.”
Something simple, she thought, fighting weariness and a growing sense of dread. Something cheap. She would give herself the evening to not deal with the crap storm that was her life, then face it all in the morning.