Chapter 16 #2
He thrust a clipboard at her. “Sign here.”
Because she desperately needed to sit down, she signed where directed and took the envelope from him. She shut the door and made it to the sofa before her legs gave out under her. She must’ve dozed off, because when she came to a few minutes later, Ashleigh was standing in front of her.
Tiffany reached for her daughter. “Hi, baby. How do you feel?”
“My belly hurts.”
“I know. Mine does, too.”
Ashleigh ran her hands over Tiffany’s face, checking for fever the way Tiffany did to her. The gesture drew her first smile of the day. “Mama sick, too?”
“Yep.”
Ashleigh leaned forward to rest her head on Tiffany’s shoulder. “I take care of you.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
Behind the little girl’s back, Tiffany tore open the envelope and had to blink when the words swam before her eyes.
The letterhead was from Jim’s law firm, and Tiffany had to read the letter twice before the words permeated the fog in her brain.
Her store was being evicted. Her landlord asserted that her rent check had bounced, and he’d hired her ex-husband to have her removed.
She had fifteen days to vacate the premises.
“Mama needs to get up, honey.”
“I watch Dora,” Ashleigh said.
“Sure. Go ahead.” Tiffany handed her daughter the remote control and bolted for the kitchen, where she was violently ill in the sink.
Her hands were shaking and her legs were weak by the time it was over.
She reached for the phone and managed to drop it.
By the time she bent over and picked it up, she was already feeling sick again.
She punched in the phone number to the store and waited for Patty to answer.
“Naughty & Nice,” her assistant said, sounding far too chipper to Tiffany’s sick ears.
“It’s Tiffany.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like death.”
“That hunky cop of yours was in here to see you, and you’ll never guess what!”
Tiffany wanted to tell Patty that Blaine wasn’t her hunky cop, but she lacked the energy to debate the point. “Wyatt asked you out. I heard.”
“I’m so excited! I can’t believe—”
“Patty.”
“Oh, sorry. What’s up?”
“Remember when you took the deposit to the bank for me?”
“Yep.”
“What account did you put it in?”
“The savings account, like you told me to.”
Tiffany held back a moan. She’d specifically told her assistant to put it in the checking account.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, everything’s fine. Any customers today?”
“Quite a few, actually. Mrs. Upton was in with a couple of her friends, and Mrs. McCarthy stopped by, hoping to see you.”
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“Just to tell you that her husband loved the items she brought home the other day.”
Under normal circumstances, that would’ve been the best news Tiffany had had all year. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
“Did the messenger guy find you at home?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Oh, sorry to disturb you. He said it was urgent.”
“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“If you don’t feel good, I don’t mind covering for you.”
“Thank you.” If only Tiffany could afford to pay her for that many hours. “I’ll call you in the morning if I need you.”
“Talk to you then.”
Tiffany ended the call and dialed her mother. “Mom,” she said when Francine answered. “I need you.”
“I heard you two are sick.”
“I hate to expose you guys, but Ashleigh is feeling better, and I think I might be dying.” Tears leaked from her eyes as it registered with her that her ex-husband had meant what he said when he told her there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see her driven out of business.
“We’ll be over to pick her up in a few minutes. Hang in there, honey.”
“Thank you,” Tiffany said, weak with relief. When she put down the phone, she ducked her head into the living room. “Ash, do you think you could eat something?”
Without taking her eyes off the television, her little girl nodded.
Tiffany filled a sippy cup with apple juice and put some crackers in a bowl. “Here you go. Take it slow at first. Mama needs to make a phone call, okay?”
“Okay.”
Mesmerized by Dora, Ashleigh ate and drank while Tiffany dialed Dan Torrington’s phone number and left a message on his voice mail, hoping she’d hear back from him soon.
While she waited for her mom and Ned, she dozed on the sofa.
All the while, her mind raced with worry about the business.
Surely her landlord couldn’t evict her over one bounced check, could he?
Trying to remember what the lease agreement had stipulated had Tiffany feeling sick again, so she forced her mind off those thoughts and focused on not throwing up.
There couldn’t be anything left in her stomach.
The next time she stirred, her mother and Ned were standing over her. She glanced at the clock and saw it was after five o’clock. How in the world had the day gone by without her knowing it? “Ashleigh?”
“Is fine,” her mother said.
Thank goodness for Dora the Explorer, Tiffany thought for the thousandth time since Ashleigh became hooked on the cartoon a year ago.
“Where did the furniture come from?” Francine asked.
“Estate sale at Mrs. Ridgeway’s house.” Tiffany couldn’t muster the wherewithal to relay the full story, nor was she ready to tell her mother and Ned about Blaine. They’d find out soon enough.
“She don’t look too good,” Ned said of Tiffany.
Francine rested her hand on her daughter’s forehead, and Tiffany wanted to weep from the sweet relief of her mother’s cool hand on her overheated skin. “You’re burning up, honey. Did you take something for the fever?”
“Couldn’t keep it down.”
“Poor thing.”
“Ya need to keep hydrated,” Ned said. “Don’t want ta see ya end up in the clinic.”
“We brought you some ginger ale and chicken soup,” Francine added.
“Thanks,” Tiffany said, gagging to herself at the thought of either.
“I’ll get you a glass of the ginger ale and put the soup on to warm.”
“No soup, Mom. I can’t do it. Not yet.”
“Okay, I’ll leave it here for when you feel up to it.”
Ned scooped up Ashleigh and planted noisy kisses on her cheeks, making her laugh. “Ya feeling better, baby girl?”
“Uh-huh, but Mama is sick now.”
“We’re going to let her sleep while we take you to our house for a sleepover. How’s that?”
“Good!”
Ned put her down and took her hand. “How bout we go pack yer bag?”
Ashleigh tugged him up the stairs to her room.
“He’s so good with her,” Tiffany said. “You’d never know he didn’t raise a bunch of his own kids.”
“I wish he’d been your father.”
“That would’ve been nice. I could’ve picked a better father for my child, too.” Tiffany gestured to the letter on the table.
Francine picked it up, read it and began to fume. “Is he for real?”
“Apparently so.”
“Oh my God, what’ll you do?”
“Fight him tooth and nail. What else can I do?” The thought of yet another legal battle with Jim, not to mention the expense of hiring Dan, had Tiffany fighting another round of nausea and more tears.
“I’m so sorry.” Francine shook her head with dismay. “That boy needs to be horsewhipped. After all you did for him, that he would treat you this way—it’s unconscionable.”
“I agree.”
The door opened, and Blaine walked in, stopping short when he saw Tiffany’s mother sitting with her on the sofa. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Francine looked from Tiffany to him and back to her again, raising an eyebrow in inquiry that reminded Tiffany of Maddie, who did the same thing. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Um, no. Not really.”
Rather than dig for more information, Francine only smiled. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Tiffany’s forehead. “Good for you,” she whispered before she got up. “Chief Taylor, nice to see you.”
“Um, you, too. Ma’am. Please, call me Blaine.”
“I’d be happy to, Blaine. I’m Francine.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I can come back later.”
“Don’t leave on our account,” Francine said. “Ned is helping Ashleigh pack up to spend the night with us so Tiffany can get some rest.”