Chapter 4
Claire
I check on Larkin before leaving the living room. She”s playing with toys while a popular kids” show plays quietly on the television.
The small duplex allows me to hear every sound made inside, and, to my minor annoyance, almost everything that goes on next door.
I walk into my bathroom so I can get ready for yet another shift at The Hairy Frog.
Walker had said that he was going to talk to me after my first shift. I was certain he was going to insist I didn”t come back, but we haven”t spoken since. I”ve worked three more shifts in the last two weeks, and not once has he asked me to leave.
Maggie smiles every time I show up, and she seems genuinely glad that I”m there. Maybe he relented on his uncalled-for hatred of me, or, at a minimum, he isn”t talking trash about me behind my back with other staff members.
He stays to himself, or at least he keeps his distance. I haven”t been asked to stick around for cleanup at the end of the night, but I know that will change eventually. I know I won”t make much more for that additional hour, but every penny counts.
I scowl at the stack of bills sitting on my dresser, hating them on sight. The thick stack has been the bane of my existence for years. No sooner do I throw one bill away, I get more notices in the mail. Despite making payments, the damn number just keeps growing.
At this rate, Larkin will have graduated college by the time it”s clear.
Who am I kidding? I doubt I”ll even be able to put Larkin through college at the rate I”m going. I bet Nora and Leo would love the hell out of that.
I”m well past the years of perfect makeup and stressing over that one lock of hair that has a mind of its own, so I”m back out in the living room in less than ten minutes.
Larkin hasn”t moved from her spot in the living room, but when she pauses the brush in her troll doll”s hair to smile up at me, I feel some of the stress I live under daily lift from my shoulders.
In order to give her a few more minutes of playtime, I head to the back patio door and look out at the small backyard.
I think every parent dreams of all the things they can give to their kids. They want them to have a better childhood than they did, and that”s not always a jab at their parents. Mine could”ve done better, but knowing that just makes me work harder for my own daughter.
”Broken,” Larkin says, and I know she”s referring to the ride-on car I grabbed for her on impulse at a garage sale a few weeks ago. If I had any other place to bring it, I wouldn”t have put it in the backyard. It”s impossible to explain to a three-year-old that she has to wait to play with the toy until I have the money to get it fixed. When they told me it needed a new battery, I figured it would cost less than the fifteen dollars they were selling it for.
”Not broken,” I tell her. ”Just out of gas. Are you ready to go get your book?”
I love the excitement that sparkles in her pretty blue eyes when she looks up at me. The child loves her bedtime stories. There have been many Sundays when she brings me a book and climbs up in my lap so I can read to her rather than wanting to play with her toys.
We already don”t get enough time together, and it makespacking her up and putting her in the car to take her to her grandparents” house that much harder.
I shouldn”t have to work two jobs to pay off a debt that isn”t mine, but I own on a technicality. I”ve learned, however, that life isn”t fair, and being bitter and emotional about something that won”t change is a waste of energy. Honestly, I”m too damned tired to squander any time I could be spending with Larkin.
That”s Another Story, the local bookstore, offers a monthly free book program.
Honestly, I don’t know if the owner, Sage Douglas, actually has the program or if she”s just telling me that she does so she can give me free books.
The town has been suspiciously very proactive in helping me despite my numerous requests to just let me live my life.
I”ve won so many contests that I grew suspicious of the odds. Even after not entering raffles and such in town, I still seem to win, but who am I to turn down free monthly groceries and a book for Larkin?
”Book!” Larkin squeals when we manage to get a parking spot right in front of the store.
I loved the charm of Lindell the first day I got here. All the buildings along Main Street are connected, their construction taking place in a time much different from now, but neighbors love each other here. Lindell is always having some sort of event that brings the community out of their homes and into the town square.
I make sure to keep hold of Larkin”s hand after pulling her from her car seat when she tries to run for the front door.
I take a moment to crouch down in front of her.
”What are the rules?” I ask, making sure she”s looking at me when I know she wants to sprint for the front door.
”Hold your hand,” she says, as if she”s annoyed that I don”t know the rules.
”Don”t run unless we”re at the park and it”s safe to do so,” I remind her.
She nods in agreement before tugging me toward the entrance.
”Book, Mommy!”
Since it”s close to closing time, it”s no surprise that the little bookstore is nearly empty of customers.
”Hey there, sweetheart,” Sage says to Larkin when she runs up to the counter.
Larkin takes a few steps back so she can see her. ”Book!”
”Larkin,” I chastise in a soft voice, giving Sage an apologetic smile. ”Sorry.”
”Don”t be,” Sage says with a sweet smile. ”I”m always excited for books, too! You”re going to love this month”s book, Larkin.”
I watch as Sage comes out from behind the counter, my throat clogging up the way it does every month when she pulls a book from the shelf rather than from a box like I”d expect if every child in the community was getting one.
I should probably have more pride and avoid this place. The only other option would be to actually buy books here, but when I did that, Sage said I won some contest and was the millionth winner or some nonsense like that. I have no doubt if I tried again, I”d be the winner of something else she stammers through on the spot.
”Mommy, look!”
Larkin turns the book in my direction and before she opens her mouth again, Adalynn, the owner of Fondante”s Inferno, the local bakery, walks up with her ever-present smile.
”I love book day,” the woman says as she smiles down at my daughter. ”What do you have there?”
”Cars!” Larkin says, tapping the front of the book, her little finger on the pink car. ”Is it out of gas?”
And there it is, what she was going to say before Adalynn walked up.
”My car is out of gas, too,” Larkin says, just the right amount of disappointment in her tone to make both women look in my direction in explanation.
”She has a toy at the house that needs a new battery,” I explain.
”We have some batteries,” Sage says, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. ”Do you know what kind?”
”It”s one of those ride-on car things. I have it on order.”
I feel Adalynn”s stare on the side of my face, so I don”t look in her direction.
She”s just as guilty as every other person in town, giving me free stuff because she feels sorry for the single-parent widow.
”You bought the one from Kristina, right? The one Justin grew out of?”
I turn my head and give Adalynn the best smile I can manage right now as I dip my head.
”It”s on order. What do I owe you for the book?” I ask, directing my attention back to Sage.
”It”s the free monthly book,” Sage says.
”Thank you,” I tell her before scooping Larkin into my arms and heading for the front door.
Swallowing my pride is always a hard thing to do, but the smile on Larkin”s face is why I do it so often.
The child doesn”t want for anything, but at the same time, she could also have so much more.
My budget is limited, but she”s young enough that every toy she gets, no matter if it comes from a thrift shop or garage sale, is new to her. I know that might change once she gets older, but for now, she”s all smiles and happiness.
Convincing her to leave the book in the car when we get to her grandparents” house is a different story.
”Mommy is going to read that with you this weekend,” I explain for a second time as she clutches the book to her chest when it’s time to get out of the car. “Larkin, please.”
She allows me to pull the book from her chest, but her eyes are locked on it the entire time I unbuckle her.
“There’s my sweet girl!” Nora exclaims from the front porch.
With the book forgotten, Larkin wiggles to get out of my arms.
Nora stands like a statue, her body blocking entry to the house.
”She”s had a few sniffles,” I tell Nora as I attempt to hand her Larkin”s bag.
”She”s already in pajamas?” the woman asks when Larkin runs past her into the house.
”It”s almost time for bed,” I say, giving her a smile I know the woman can tell doesn”t reach my eyes.
I wonder if Adalynn and Sage both had opinions about how Larkin was dressed at the bookstore, but I didn”t catch a single hint of judgment in their tones or on their faces. I think they”re genuinely nice women, and coming from speaking with them to standing in front of Bitter Betty here, it makes it that much more obvious.
She has perfected the fake smile full of ire and distaste, after all.
”She”ll need a bath.”
”She had her bath,” I explain.
The long sigh of frustration is almost too loud to ignore, but somehow I manage.
”Does she have a change of clothes in the bag?” Nora asks, looking down at the thing as if it carries some sort of disease.
I”ve used the same bag for Larkin for years, and although worn in a few spots, I keep the thing clean. It goes in the wash just like her stuffed toys and pillows do. We don”t live in filth. We just don”t have as many material things as a lot of others have. Living a minimalist lifestyle is chic and fashionable unless you”re poor, and then people just see it as sad. It”s the same as having a nanny versus needing a babysitter. One is classy and the other is trashy, at least in Nora’s eyes.
”For tomorrow, yes,” I tell her, knowing she”s asking if there”s another set of pajamas in there because she has every intention of giving Larkin another bath.
”Claire,” she says. ”You know I have more clothes for her inside, but why are you always so difficult? If you prioritized, you”d—”
”I”ll be here to pick her up tomorrow evening after work,” I say instead of explaining exactly why I have to work two jobs. I know the reasoning would somehow once again be turned around on me.
Huxley Kennedy has been enshrined in this town. He did no wrong. He wasn”t a young man who always got into trouble. He was mischievous. He wasn”t destined for his parents” basement because he had no goals in life. He was evaluating his options.
That”s the thing about someone dying. Most people ignore who they really were in life in favor of rose-colored glasses.
I”m not speaking ill of my deceased husband, but the facts didn”t change the day he went to work and didn”t come home.
He had his faults like every other person walking the earth, but no one would ever be able to convince the Kennedys of it. Hell, a lot of his problems were created by them, and that”s something they”d never admit.
”Claire,” Nora says in that frustrated, annoyed tone. ”You wouldn”t have to work two jobs if you took the offer of our garage apartment.”
I simply wave my arm in the air and climb into my car.
I know I”d have to work a million-and-a-half shifts at The Hairy Frog before I”d clear that stack of bills off my dresser, but at the same time, I can”t give up. I also can”t give in any more than I already have to the Kennedys. I”m so very grateful to have their help. I know they love Larkin, and that is the only saving grace for dropping my daughter off at their house up to six days a week.
Living right under their noses? I”d never hear the end of it. I”d be miserable, and they”d be right about me not being able to take care of my daughter on my own.
The bills keep me going. I tried ignoring them and it brought a man to my front doorstep with court papers and a threat of getting sued on his lips. It terrified me that going to court over credit card debt would also mean my parenting would be called into question, and I”d never put Larkin”s future at risk like that. It”s also why I haven”t opened my mouth to the Kennedys. I feel like they”d see it as an opportunity to try and take her from me.
They suggested it more than once, trying to appeal to that part of me that wouldn”t want to be a single mother. The one they thought existed.