Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Kylie
Whoa. That had gone from friendly to foul in two seconds flat.
What had she said to upset him so much?
“Trash witch lady? I mean, fairy lady? Could you help me?”
“My name is Kylie.”
“Oh! I have a Kylie in my class. She can’t drink cow’s milk. She has to bring her own every day and it smells like oil.”
“Is she allergic to cow’s milk?”
“’Lergic. Yeah. We can’t bring ice cream for birthday treats because Kylie can’t eat it, but that’s okay. Daddy brought cherry popsicles instead for my birthday!”
“He did? How old are you?”
“Six.”
“Are you in first grade?”
“Kindergarten, silly! Except my birthday is a summer birthday, so in preschool we got to celebrate it on our half birthday. I think it’s the same in kindergarten, too.”
Harriet was struggling to cut the cellophane, a task Kylie took care of fast. She slid the tiny face painting kit from the basket and watched Harriet hone in on the biggest, glitteriest muffin.
“What’s… this?”
“It’s a cupcake.”
Harriet screwed her face up in confusion. “I’ve never seen a cupcake like this. Are they cupcakes or muffins?”
“Does it matter?”
“Why are they circles?”
“Circles?” Now Kylie was confused.
“The shape is wrong!” Studying the pastry like it was radioactive material from an alien spaceship, the little girl with dark brown curls and bright eyes that turned down at the corners spun the muffin around in her hand. “I’ve never eaten a circle like this.”
And then it hit Kylie. Right. This was Love You, Maine.
Where everything that could be heart-shaped was, almost as a requirement.
“People who don’t live in Luview eat cupcakes and muffins like this, sweetie. Circle cupcakes. Everything isn’t a heart.”
“It’s not?”
The hearty laugh that poured out of Kylie made her awkwardness disappear.
Years ago, when they’d fled to Indiana, part of the sensation of disruption she’d experienced had been a very unique form of culture shock.
When you live in a tourist town known for Love with a capital L, you don’t realize that heart-shaped everything isn’t normal.
Or that people wear colors other than red, pink, and white.
Or that the rest of the world doesn’t dye their animals pink for public festivals and holidays.
Doesn’t have more picturesque proposal sites than bathrooms. Doesn’t have a justice of the peace convention and a romance novel cover-model workshop the way other towns have business conferences for lawyers, insurance salespeople, and software developers.
Love You, Maine, was like growing up in Disney World and not knowing that the rest of the world didn’t live the same way.
Kylie knew better.
Harriet didn’t.
“Most people eat round muffins. Round cookies. Round– ”
“WAFFLES?” Harriet squealed. “Like the ones Daddy buys from the store sometimes? I know about those.”
“Yep.”
Harriet’s eyes shifted to the fairy basket, suspicion coloring her expression.
“They taste the same, right? Those cupcakes?” She pointed to one.
“Muffins with frosting.”
“That’s a cupcake!”
“Well, sort of. They’re morning glory muffins.”
“With pineapple and carrots? That’s Daddy’s favorite! Whenever we go to Greta’s, he always gets one. Sometimes she gives him one for free!”
Greta.
There was only one Greta who made morning glory muffins, and it was Greta Mitteracht from Love You Bakery, the town pastry shop, café, and gossip hole.
There was a blast from the past. How many loaded brownies had she shared with Amber, Luke, Kell, Moore, Layla, and Brewer when they were kids?
“Does Greta still serve loaded brownies?”
Harriet shrugged. “When we go in there, Wolf helps us.”
Wolf was Wolfgang Mitteracht, Greta’s son, champion basketball player. He was in Dennis Luview’s class, so much older than Kylie, and every girl’s first crush.
“Wolf runs the place now?”
Harriet took a huge bite out of her muffin, nose streaking with glitter. “Mmmm hmm. YUM!”
While she chomped away, Kylie looked around. This was Amber and Luke’s house, huh? Messier than she would have expected, but then again, she wasn’t exactly pristine in her housekeeping habits, either.
Still. For a guy who was in law enforcement, and what she remembered about Amber being super organized when they were kids, this was a little weird.
“Where’s your mommy? At work?”
Harriet’s eyes went sad, her throat moving as she swallowed a mouthful of muffin. She sniffled.
Uh, oh, Kylie thought, gut tightening. She’d just stepped into some kind of emotional minefield. But before Harriet could reply, they turned toward the sound of a bison stuck in a whirlpool.
Or, at least, a very angry Luke.
Heavy footsteps and an increasingly loud voice from the other room made it clear Luke’s conversation wasn’t pleasant. Was he fighting with Amber? Were they divorcing? What could make this sweet child’s face go so somber?
“You can’t do this to her!” Luke said loudly into the phone, and Kylie jumped. “I know I can be a jerk sometimes, but why punish her?”
Silence.
Then:
“So you’re leaving? Just like that? Because you met a guy at trivia night at Bilbee’s and he’s from Boston and–what?”
Oh, no. Kylie didn’t want to hear this. Amber was leaving Luke? Cheating on him and dumping him over the phone? The Amber McFarland she remembered growing up with was absolutely, positively not the type to do that.
People change, though.
Sometimes suddenly.
Painfully.
And then there was her own ex, who did it stupidly.
“He’s an agent? He says he can help you get acting work in L.A.? This just goes from bad to worse.”
Kylie felt a sharp tug on the hem of her shirt. She looked down to find a very serious Harriet looking back up.
“My mommy isn’t here,” Harriet said sadly. Kylie’s protective instincts toward small children kicked in.
Amber was in the middle of breaking up with Luke and leaving her marriage so she could become an actress in Hollywood?
Suddenly, her experience with Perry didn’t seem so bad. At least she hadn’t been dumped with a kid, too.
Poor Luke.
“I see she isn’t!” Kylie replied, realizing she needed to change the subject and erase some of Harriet’s pain. “I brought a fairy face painting kit. Do you want me to paint one on your cheek?”
“YES!”
As if Kylie expected any other answer.
Moving to a chair, she settled the little girl in place and began painting in light arcs, careful to let Harriet chew as she devoured the muffin. If Luke’s comment about cookies for breakfast were true, Kylie felt bad for whoever was spending the next few hours with her.
The kid was going to be zooming on pure sugar. At least the muffins had nuts for protein.
A door opened down the hallway and thump thump thump came the happy sound of a big, very loud dog bounding along, until suddenly, Kylie’s hand slipped on Harriet’s face, painting a purple lightning bolt, and a big mess of butterscotch-colored fur crowded her crotch.
“JESTER! DOWN!” Luke bellowed, on the dog’s heels, grabbing his collar with one strong, taut hand, phone still in the other. “Sorry,” he muttered to Kylie, pulling the dog to the back door, where he sent the beast outside.
“What happened to my face?” Harriet asked.
“I drew a super cool purple lightning bolt. Your fairy power is strong,” Kylie lied, making the best of it all.
“YAY!! What’s my fairy name?”
Kylie leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Shocky.”
“Shocky? Ooo, I like that!”
“Look,” she heard Luke say into the phone, from down the hall. “How much money to stay? Just to come back today. We don’t have to think about the future. Just now.”
Dude was desperate. She was embarrassed on his behalf.
“I know I owe you but think of Harriet. If you just disappear, you’ll break her heart.” His words were certainly shredding Kylie’s. What kind of relationship did he and Amber have if he had to beg her to stay with her own child? And offer her money to come back for just a day?
“Three weeks? You just want to run off with some guy for three weeks and maybe come back and see her?”
Kylie focused on the lines on the wings of the butterfly she drew along the edge of the little girl’s face, her heart twisting, tears threatening.
Never one to hide her emotions easily, she was starting to get that sense of urgency and pain she developed when other people were in emotional crisis around her.
Call it emotion, tension, stress, vibration, whatever–she felt it with her whole body, heart, and soul.
And now here she was in Amber McFarland’s house as the woman was dumping her husband and daughter for a sham agent the day after her husband rescued Kylie from a donation bin.
When did life get this bizarre?
“Can I see?” Harriet begged, prompting Kylie to pull the small mirror from the kit, grateful she didn’t have to interrupt Luke in any way.
“Sure. Here you go.” She held up the mirror.
“OH! It’s perfect! Better than anyone else can do it.”
“I’m sure your mommy can paint your face better than I can,” she assured Harriet, who gave her another one of those strange, sad looks.
And just like that, Kylie was angry. Furious, even. Who the hell did Amber think she was, ruining Luke and Harriet like this? When you became a wife and mother, you had a responsibility to do your best by the people who loved you.
How dare she?
“My mommy never paints my face like this,” Harriet said sadly.
“She doesn’t?” Righteous indignation grew inside Kylie.
“No. I don’t see her anymore.”
“FINE!” Luke bellowed. “I’ll mail your stuff and you’re done. You’re making a big mistake and I’m disappointed in you. Can’t believe I have to pick up the pieces, but now I’m late for work and it’s your fault. You need to be more responsible.”
The distinct sound of a man punching a wall came through, loud and clear.
Then heavy breathing, filled with rage.
“You don’t see your mommy?” Kylie asked Harriet, her attention split between wanting to help Luke and needing to keep his child occupied, to shield her from whatever mess her parents were in the middle of. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
“They do?” Oh, no. The whole town must know about Luke and Amber’s marriage disintegrating. This was exactly what her own mother had been afraid of.
The searing shame of having your private dirty laundry exposed.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sure you’ll see her again, though.”
Harriet gave her a deeply confused, slightly disgusted look. “No. I won’t. I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
A bedroom door opened, Luke walking down the hall, phone in hand, marching for… an ironing board? Hands deft and quick, he began steam pressing what looked like a typical red Love You police uniform shirt, eyes wild.
He completely ignored Kylie, but she could feel his embarrassment.
“Need help?”
A snort was his answer.
Head down, he worked on his task, and said, “Now is not the best time for us to catch up. I really appreciate the, uh, fairy basket.” The last two words came out slow, halting. “But I’m experiencing a sudden mess and I need to figure it all out.”
“I couldn’t help but overhear.”
Mouth stretching in disgust, he grimaced, wholly adult, suddenly mature and struggling. She could see the teen in him from years ago, but also appreciate how different he was now, bigger and more worldly.
Carrying so many burdens.
“I’m sorry Amber’s doing this to you.”
Jerking up with shock, he moved the iron and before she could shout a warning, his fingertip brushed against the edge, making him yelp.
“Damn it!” he shouted, sucking on his finger.
Harriet pulled on the hem of Kylie’s shirt. She looked down as Luke moved the iron so it didn’t burn his shirt, then looked at Kylie like she was crazy.
“Kylie?”
“Yes?”
“Mommy can’t do anything here.”
“She can’t?” Harriet’s scowl pierced Kylie’s heart.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Mommy’s in heaven.”