Chapter 1
Ava
“Call Robert McClintock,” Steven told his car.
The dash shifted to phone mode and started dialing Rubber Duck Car Wash.
“No. Damnit. End call!” He tried again, enunciating each syllable. Again, it pulled up the wrong name. “I don’t have time for this. Ava, can you–”
“On it.”
I dialed the contact manually, his ever-reliable office admin. My long black braid slid over my shoulder as I held his cell to his ear.
“Ranger Rob!” Steven greeted. Not a forest ranger–Rob marshaled at the golf course where Steven took his clients. “Unfortunately, we’re about ten minutes out.” His eyes cut to me with an accusation. “Drama at the daycare.”
None of Rob’s business, but okay.
“Yup. Getting on the freeway now. See you soon.”
I ended the call for him and sank into my seat. The city’s flat landscape gave way to a crop of jutting mountains as we headed south, and a low sun lit a cloudless blue sky.
“Let’s get Chinese on the way home,” Steven said, rolling but not stopping before turning right on a red.
I smothered a grimace. Taking a three-year-old to a Chinese restaurant–any restaurant–topped my cringe list. Right above artificial popcorn flavor, wet socks, and leather interiors … What Arizonian in their right mind chose leather? But it was too hot to cook.
I shrugged. “If you want to.”
Steven was smart, well-dressed, financially independent, and ambitious, just not kid savvy.
He knew not the struggle of extracting an unwilling child from a mountain of preschool stuffed animals.
Nor the effort required to wash white rice out of my three-year-old’s long, thick hair.
Of course, chocolate wasn’t much better.
I twisted to assess the damage in the back seat. Melted chocolate everywhere. Face, hands, everything in reach, thanks to the protein bar I gave her despite my better judgment. There goes another hundred bucks for detailing.
Tuesdays were expensive.
Steven glanced into the rear-view mirror at Nina. “I wish you hadn’t given her that.”
“She was hungry. It’s all I had.”
“She couldn’t wait thirty minutes?”
As I said, not kid savvy. But he’d never been around kids before me, so I gave him a pass.
Thirteen minutes later, he parked his shiny black Mercedes in front of an empty shopfront sandwiched between a Circle K and a Mexican carry-out, and pecked me on the cheek. “Be right back.”
He grabbed his slim-fit navy sports coat from the backseat, checked it for melted chocolate, then slid the narrow cut over his crisp white button-down. Every dark brown hair in place, every pleat pressed. Always ready to sell.
“Robby!” he greeted, strutting up the sidewalk to meet his client.
My pencil skirts and patent heels matched his campaign. Yesterday, we were referred to as Phoenix’s power couple. It made me laugh because everything, from dating to our living arrangement, resembled a business deal.
I’d agreed on a first date more out of loneliness than active interest. And cohabitation because of financial strain.
In exchange, I fulfilled his overtime needs.
The routine felt reliable. Nice. Quiet nights didn’t torment me anymore.
Nothing and no one could replace what I’d lost, but maybe I could settle for nice.
Despite the AC, the evening summer sun beat straight into my window, clinging to the leather interior like a bad Yelp review. Yes, leather. We all make sacrifices, right? At least my skin didn’t burn like Steven’s did. Thank you, Mom, for my Latina genes.
A family of four exited the Mexican restaurant with enough crinkly plastic bags to feed an apartment complex. My stomach grumbled. Nina pushed against her five-point harness, whining, kicking, and smearing more melted chocolate.
“How about,” I said, producing a baby wipe from my purse, “we play I-Spy?” My words sang with the feigned enthusiasm of an elementary school teacher in December, but Nina only grunted. I twisted back to wrestle the chocolate off her hands.
Her limbs flailed. “Mama, I want wockets.”
“Sorry, Crackerjack, I don’t have your rocket magnets. I didn’t know we’d be stopping.”
She pressed her chest into her seatbelt. Sweaty black curls clung to her sticky, red face. “Out!”
I searched the car: listing postcards in the glove compartment, extra sunglasses in the center console, for-lease signs sticking through the half-folded down back seat. Nothing would interest a toddler. Inside the empty store, Steven and his client chatted with animated arms and eager smiles.
“I spy with my little eye–”
“No!” Nina shouted.
“Okay.” I snagged a postcard to fan myself. “How about hide-and-seek?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes!”
As soon as I released her harness buckle, Nina scrambled toward the folded back seat. I closed my eyes and started counting. “One, two, three …”
Little clops reverberated like distant thunder as she crawled over the lease signs and into the trunk. I kept counting, even when I suspected she’d reached her destination.
“… Eight, nine, ten! Ready or not!” In an overly loud voice, I wondered, “Hmm. Where is Nina?” Making a show of searching everywhere was her favorite part.
I checked the seat pockets, behind the sun visor, the footwell of the driver’s seat, everywhere, complete with narration, until only one place remained.
“Well,” I sighed, “I guess I’ll have to get out and check the trunk. But I don’t know how she could've gotten in there.”
Her little snickers from the back made me smile.
I opened my door and stood, ripping my legs free of the passenger seat. Inside the for-lease property, Steven and his client compared golf swings.
When I opened the trunk, Nina jumped up and shouted, “Boo!” knocking over a stack of blue client folders.
I threw a hand to my heart. “Whoa! You scared me! How did you get back here?”
“I cwalled twrough the seat!”
“You did?” I reached past her to drag the mess of real estate contracts closer, to re-stack them and to tuck escaped pages safely back inside.
“Mama?”
“Mhmm?” Creased side down, I tapped the edges until they were even, and re-alphabetized the labels.
“Dis time, you hide.”
“I’m too big to hide in the car,” I told her. “I would never fit in the cupholder.”
She burst into giggles. “Dat’s silly.”
“Well, where do you think you get it from?” I flipped a folder, searching front and back for a label. Steven must’ve been in a rush. I opened the cover to find the account name listed on the cover page.
“Mama, peas!”
Some moments shift so swiftly, it feels like a rug yanked out from under you. One second, you’re flying high, living with a sense of na?ve invincibility, and then poof! Your magic carpet disintegrates. No warm-up. No warning. Just a total freefall into a turbulent sea below.
My eyes skated the property address, and suddenly, I was hitting violent waves. Sinking as newfound lead pulled my stomach into a liquid vacuum without sound.
Reason gasped for air. It’s a misunderstanding. One year ago, grief threatened to consume me, but a single hope pushed me through. One goal. One place. And Steven knew that.
Something didn’t fit. I flipped the page to scan the offer.
Nina tugged at my arm. “Mama, peeeeeas.”
Details catapulted off the page, little flaming fireballs searing holes in my plan. I tried and failed to fabricate some explanation. Words blurred, and the world radiated a habanero haze.
“MAMA!” Nina jumped on a lease sign and cracked it straight down the middle. “You hiiide!”
Everything I’d done ... all those midnight hours, late childcare fees. Moving into his house so I could build my down payment!
The doors to the empty store swung open, and the men exited with hearty pats on the back. I needed to think, to be strategic.
“You bet!” Steven called as he sauntered toward his Mercedes. “See you in a few!” He stopped at the trunk, unaware of the active five-foot-four volcano wearing stilettos in front of him. “Oh, come on, Ava. You know I hate it when she climbs on the signs. Look at this mess!”
Could a human combust?
Think, Ava.
But I couldn’t. My anger slammed all the doors in my head like a petulant teenager.
“What’s this?” Steven said. “Did she break it? Nina!” He hauled her out by her armpits, and she hid behind my legs, curling her fingers into my skirt.
Steven shook his head, running a finger along the cracked sign. “Damnit! This needs to go up tomorrow. When the hell am I going to have time to replace it?” He looked at me, his extended-hour lackey.
I pressed my lips together, fearful of what might come out.
“Fine.” He scoffed. “I guess we’re going back to the office after dinner. Get in the car. Rob’s meeting us at the Chinese place. Jesus … look at this mess.” He tried to grab the folder from me, but my fingers held fast.
It took a second, but I knew exactly when it registered. When his cocky offense turned to a groveling, deflated defense.