Chapter 3 #2
I snapped my gaze to her. She’d said it so matter-of-factly. From what I remembered, her dad had been a piece of shit, running around on her mom and getting into fights. Scooter had had his issues, and while he might’ve loved his sister, he’d been selfish to a fault. Then there was her ex.
No. Men hadn’t helped her a whole lot. And here I was, swaggering around and expecting her to be grateful for my manly knowledge. All after doing nothing but put her on edge whenever we crossed paths since she’d moved home last year.
“All right,” I relented. “I’ll restore this joint back to its dive bar glory. Except the countertop won’t be sticky.” That earned me a glare, but I only grinned. There was the fire I thrived on. “I should have keys to the place.”
Her eyes flared. “Oh. Um... yeah. Hold on.”
I didn’t. I followed her all the way down the hall. I was leaving after this anyway. I needed to look up contractors and carpenters. I could demolish and install a lot myself. Time would be an issue, but I’d make it work.
She went to a room across from the office, shot me a warning glare, and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. What was in there?
While I waited, I poked my head into the office. I smirked at the empty bag of Skittles in the trash and the open bag of Trolli on the desk. My candy stash hadn’t gotten tossed after all.
The door behind me squeaked open. She jiggled a set of keys. “I’ll tell you when my days off are, otherwise don’t come before one in the afternoon.”
“Shouldn’t I wait until four? Seems like you needed the nap.” As her eyes narrowed, I chuckled. “I’ll be here after five. I can work weekends and evenings.”
“I picked up a couple of shifts this weekend.”
She should be drooping from how much she worked. I wanted to go tuck her back in wherever she had been sleeping and tell her to rest, but she’d likely bite my head off. I snatched the keys from her and leaned in. “I need to do some research first, so give me a few days. I’ll be back Friday. With more Skittles.”
She inhaled sharply.
I grinned and pushed out the door.
It didn’t shut behind me. “It was the Jelly Bellys.”
I stopped. “Jelly Belly?”
“That day in the store, you were blocking the Jelly Belly display.”
I would’ve grabbed anything she had asked for that day, but she had refused and fled. It was amazing I was even let into the bar.
She trusted me.
Humbled, my throat grew thick. I’d been stoking her, firing her up, and still she’d turned to me only by the grace of my last name. She’d left me in the dust that day, and then she had taken a huge gamble on my ass, helping me in the process. I couldn’t let her down. “What flavors?”
“Is there a bad one?”
“Yes. Buttered popcorn.”
“You got me there. Red apple and root beer. Skittles hurt my teeth.” She disappeared inside and the door closed. The bolt flipped.
Red apple and root beer. As long as I worked on this bar, she’d never be out of them again.
Madison
I suppressed a yawn as I clocked in on the nurses’ station computer. It was my last night of work before I got four days off. My body might not function the best from seven p.m. to seven a.m., but it was nice to work without my superiors breathing down my neck. I was less likely to say something to get myself into trouble.
No one here would tolerate me talking to them the same way I spouted off to Teller. Yet Teller didn’t go away. He didn’t back down, and I thought he might even enjoy riling me up. I didn’t enjoy it. Except a little bit when his pupils dilated and the faintest flush stained his cheeks. I’d never seen him react that way to anyone else.
He had an obligation to fulfill, but when he had looked at me when came to the bar, I didn’t feel like some dreaded responsibility. He even asked about my favorite jelly bean flavor. No one had ever paid attention to what I ate unless it was to tell me to back off, but he did.
I couldn’t look too far into it. Maybe he no longer felt like my personal nemesis, but we weren’t friends. We weren’t even colleagues really. What were we?
Raquel, the nurse in charge, stopped next to me, her eyes sympathetic. “Your mom asked to see you.”
Shit. That obliterated all thoughts of Teller. Mom did not ask. She’d probably ordered my supervisor to tell me to get my ass there as soon as possible. “Okay, thanks. I’ll make it quick.”
“We all try to,” she said, knowing I felt the same way and it wasn’t so I could return to work quicker. “Also, Ramona’s on a rampage.”
My stomach dropped. Ramona was the director of the nursing home. I’d paid for the next month before I’d bid on Teller, and I was keeping a few months in reserve until her house sold. Technically, it was my house, but I refused to live there. “Because of my mom?”
“Because she’s Ramona.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I already had one big Cheryl Townsend strike against me. If the director thought I was laughing at her, I could lose my job. Other than our small clinic, there was nowhere else to work as a CNA in town, and I doubted I’d get hired for home healthcare if I was let go from here.
I slowed my usual hurried walk as I approached Mom’s door. Cheryl Townsend wasn’t an easy resident, and she refused to have me help her with anything. I took the reprieve where I could, and the other staff paid the price.
Turning the corner into Mom’s wing, I jumped. Ramona was leaning against the wall, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, and she was scrolling through her phone.
“Madison. Good.” She tucked the phone into the pocket of her gray cardigan. Ramona never wore scrubs, despite being a nurse. Most of her work was admin and complaining to me about Mom.
Not good. “Yes?”
“Your mom swore at Joseph today.”
Hopefully, she hadn’t called him a cunt. Though he could be. “She swears a lot.”
“We’ve given her warnings.”
“I can talk to her again.” Twice already, Mom had been threatened with removal, and she’d known enough to settle down. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to live with me. She’d rather die on the street than seem weak in front of her daughter.
“I can have her removed.”
“I know.” I’d learned shortly after I started here that agreeing with Ramona was the best tactic. She hadn’t hassled Scott like she did me, but Scott’s lawyer used to be one of his customers. If the lawyer wasn’t also an abusive dick to his kids, I’d probably give him my business. “I appreciate your patience.”
“Mmph. She’s on her last warning.” Ramona sauntered away.
Mom had been on her last warning since my first day of work.
Sighing, I continued on my way. Mom’s room was in the far corner of the east wing, where she couldn’t be as easily heard cussing out the staff. The doors I passed were decorated with artwork from kids and grandkids, cutouts of handprints, and happy photographs. When I reached Mom’s door, there was nothing but her first name.
I knocked. “Hey, Mom. Can I come in?”
“’Bout damn time. You shouldn’t be late for work.”
“I wasn’t.” I was never late, but I was never that early. We couldn’t clock in more than seven minutes early, or we’d have to be paid for a whole quarter hour.
“What’s this about you and that Bailey boy?”
Lead formed a ball in my gut. I should’ve anticipated this, but the work to be done on the bar and dealing with my sleazy real estate agent had demanded my brain space. “I hired Teller as a project manager.”
“You bought him from that stupid bachelor auction. Fucking Wilna.” The corner of her mouth curled up. The other side was weaker from the stroke, and the effect only deepened her sneer. She’d done only enough during her rehabilitation to keep that poisonous tongue of hers strong, but not her limbs. “Why the hell would you think he’d help you?”
She knew all about gambling, and I’d taken the biggest bet out on Teller. “I needed someone for the repairs and he won’t screw me over because it’s for charity.”
“You should’ve sold that goddamn place instead of your childhood home.”
“The sale isn’t done yet.” She was lucky I didn’t burn my childhood home to the ground. The property and house were technically mine, thanks to Scott, so I could demolish it all. But I was better than that. I had a reasonable and responsible plan: sell it to pay for Mom’s care.
She grunted her acknowledgment. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched . She’d taught us that. Mostly, it was to expect to get screwed over by people, and since life had only reinforced that thought, I took the lesson to heart. The sale was pending. I’d had little leverage and it had sold for less than the land and house were worth, but I’d already lost two buyers trying to negotiate.
“You shouldn’t have used Sal as your agent,” Mom grumbled. “The sale would be over by now.”
Sal Longwood was a seedy prick who stared at me like he was picturing me naked, but he’d been the only one to call me back during my real estate agent hunt. No one in a hundred-mile radius wanted to work with a Townsend. I just shrugged.
“How much did you get for it?” she asked.
“Like I said, the sale isn’t done.” I wouldn’t tell her anyway. She’d berate me. She knew damn well how much land was worth this close to Bozeman. She didn’t know that even millionaires looking to escape their metropolises wouldn’t pay premium for a house that needed to be condemned, not when it was surrounded by pastures still recovering from overgrazing.
She smacked her lips. “I don’t expect you to be able to negotiate the deal. Sal’s only going to screw you over.”
I’d tried to haggle, but Sal said it was a buyer’s market. “He did okay.” The guy knew real estate and I didn’t, but I knew how much of my debt that house would pay, and how many years of Mom’s care it would cover, so I stuck with that.
She ran her tongue over her teeth. She was missing a bottom tooth and a couple of molars. “I would think by now you should be able to identify cheating men.”
My defenses were clicking into place, but I couldn’t help but compare how she lacked all faith in me to how Teller offered his expertise. He was bewildered I hadn’t taken him up on it, but he hadn’t insulted my intelligence or alluded to how he thought I couldn’t do it.
“Scott would’ve been able to get a lot of the money for the house,” she continued, “but he wouldn’t have had to sell in the first place.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I would disagree, the bar wouldn’t have been able to sustain her care, but I knew better than to provoke her.
She turned her gaze out the window. “He should be here.”
Yes, he should.
Just as I was getting choked up, she pinned me with her hard gaze. “He should be here and not you.”
I recoiled. Whoa. That last part was new. I’d been compared to my brother all my life. I hadn’t been as clever as him, as ambitious, or as talented. He’d gotten all our parents’ love and devotion. But in the six months since he’d been gone, Mom had never said that .
Why was I surprised? Yet my throat burned as much as the backs of my eyes.
“Good night, Mom.” I spun on a heel and left.
Tears threatened to gather. I could not want someone like Ramona to see me crying. She’d hold it against Mom and there that last warning went.
This wing had a small party room that should be empty by now. The light was off and I ducked in, leaving the space dark. I tucked myself in the corner and inhaled a shuddering breath.
Get it together . I hated to cry in front of people. Weaknesses got exploited and tears only framed them with a neon sign.
I blinked and sniffled, but my vision continued to blur. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry .
“Madison?”
I jumped and pressed my hand against my mouth. Who was in here?
A shadowy figure walked into the light filtering through the door. Mae Bailey. The corners of her kind eyes were creased with concern and she held a plastic tray with a lid. She set it on the table we used for food when there was a party and came closer.
“Are you okay?” Her warm smile was a balm for my grief. “It’s a silly question, isn’t it? But it’s hard not to ask.”
Her gentle voice soothed some of the hurt, but it didn’t chase away the embarrassment of getting caught hiding and crying. “You mean most people don’t tuck themselves into a dark corner when they’re happy?”
Her chuckle was just as calming as the rest of her. “I was known to do that so I didn’t lose my ever-loving mind when the kids were young and the house was louder than usual.”
Her dark hair, streaked with gray, swirled around her face. She was younger than my mom, but not by much. Where Mae and her late husband had started their family young, my parents had waited. And then, according to Ma, kept going for one kid too many.
“After Darin died,” she said, “I started doing it again. Otherwise the kids worry.”
The differences between our families grew starker. She’d probably never called her kids stupid.
She patted my shoulder. If I leaned in, I’d be encompassed in a giant bear hug. I pressed myself against the wall, yearning for that feeling while also not trusting it.
“The loss of your brother is still fresh,” she said, “and for years down the road, it’ll feel startlingly raw. Sometimes, you just want your grief to be private.”
Tears streaked down my face. “I don’t have a choice but to keep it private.” Shame burned through me. How could I confess something so personal to someone I barely knew?
Her arms surrounded me and I was pulled in for a fierce hug. “You’ve had a tough go of it, dear.”
I nodded, grateful to be seen. Someone understood. It was my bad luck that it was a Bailey. My shoulders shook as I tried to gather myself, to regain some composure before a long shift.
“It’s all right, Madison. Let it out.”
I relaxed into her soothing words, letting the grief have its moment. When the worst of it was over, I pulled back and searched the dark room for a rectangular shadow that might be a box of tissues. Mae brandished a tissue in front of me.
I accepted it and wiped my face and nose. “Sorry.” How were all the Baileys so damn nice? Even when Teller was poking and prodding at me, he treated me with more respect than a lot of people. And he’d apologized.
“Don’t be. You know, I’ve always admired your strength, but I know it’s hard.”
That wasn’t how people usually saw me. Angry. Stubborn. Inflexible. Others would call it standing up for themselves, but when it came to me... “Most people call it rude.”
Mae was silent for a moment. The silence should be uncomfortable, but it gave me a chance to gather myself and dry my tears.
“All the fosters Darin and I took in over the years,” she said almost hesitantly, “they were also called rude. People aren’t wrong. The way one person sets a boundary can be insulting to another. Both can be true, and it just seems to change by the decade who we’re upset with. But that’s not what I meant. Several of the kids I had the privilege of taking in grew into angry adults who lashed out.”
“Angry like my brother?”
“I didn’t intend to include him,” she said gently, “but yes. Others, like Wynter’s husband, Myles.”
All I knew of Wynter’s husband was that he was a stupidly successful distiller in his own right, owning and running Foster House Whiskey. I’d also heard he used to foster at the Baileys’ when he was a teen.
“Myles could’ve been a right bastard.” She chuckled. “Some might say he was, or is, but I wager he gets more leeway because he’s a guy.”
I huffed out a breath. “No kidding.”
She patted my arm again. Then she picked up the container she’d been holding when I first came in and opened it. “I had forgotten this. It’s what I came back for.” She handed me a cookie. “They’re oatmeal chocolate chip. The last time I brought oatmeal raisin for poker night, I almost caused a riot.”
I laughed despite the roller coaster of emotions I’d been on and accepted the cookie. “Raquel thinks raisins are the ultimate dirty prank.”
“Can’t say I disagree.” Mae withdrew a cookie and took a bite. “But I had raisins to use up that day.”
I found a napkin on the table by the wall and wrapped my cookie. I slipped it into the cargo pocket of my scrub pants.
“I have to say that I hoped to find a slice of that coconut cake left over.” She exhaled a regretful sigh. “I’m not a criminal, but I would’ve stolen that.”
I’d made that cake and there was not one crumb left. That recipe was my favorite. I was allowed to use the kitchen here if I made something for all the residents, so I did it as much as I could. Once upon a time, I dreamed of making a living from my love of baking, but my parents berated that idea out of me. “I missed out. Darn it.”
“I only had two slices.” She chuckled. “So, I hear Teller is going to be helping you get the bar ready.”
Abashed heat flooded my cheeks. I’d bought this lady’s son to use him for backbreaking work. Worse, I wanted to watch her son do the backbreaking work. A girl needed inspiration for the lonely nights. “Yeah.”
“Smart move. He’ll do a good job.” Mae took another bite of her treat, then lifted the container and wrapped her arms around it. “He knows a little something about sales, but he also knows people. Might be worth talking to before the deal closes on your house.”
I stiffened. How had she known about that? I hadn’t had time to get a sign up. It’d been word of mouth, and Sal was taking care of all that. “What do you mean?”
She tilted her head from side to side. “No one gets a good deal with Sal but Sal himself.”
“Mom doesn’t want me to use him either.”
“One of your mom’s underappreciated traits is that she knows when she’s getting taken advantage of.”
“She’d be surprised to hear you say that.”
Laughter gusted out of Mae. “I told her that once. Her reply was colorful.” She gave me a once-over. “You must just be coming on shift.”
Crap. Work. “Yes, I should get going before they send a search party out for me.” Or Ramona hunted me down herself. I’d have to stop in the bathroom first and check how blotchy my face was. I might need a cold-water splash. “Um... thank you.”
“Anytime. Oh, and, Madison,” she said as I rushed to the door. “Get your money’s worth out of Teller. Every penny.”