Chapter 3
THREE
After over four years,Kaylie thought she would have been able to relax. When she”d first run away, she hadn”t slept through the night for two years. And it was only partly due to the newborn she”d had six months in.
No, it was the fact that every car door slamming made her jump and the quietest hoot from an owl had her wide awake in an instant, on alert and ready to jump out of bed. She had reached for her go bag almost nightly in that first six months, sometimes fingering the sturdy canvas strap as she drifted off to sleep, letting the rough texture ground her before the nightmares could take her away.
But too often, they still did anyway.
Sleep was a luxury Kaylie didn”t have. Between her own nightmares, the sounds outside the small trailer she rented, and eventually, the newborn-turned-toddler sleeping with her, she”d given up on sleep long ago.
That didn”t stop her from letting her eyes slide to the enormous bed through the closet doorway. The dark-blue sheets were the only thing the owner of this house seemed to be in the habit of tidying. The kitchen could be overflowing with dishes, the laundry piled up in the corner, and the dust an inch thick.
But the massive bed in the primary bedroom was always made, with impressively sharp corners.
If it were hers, there would be more than the two lonely pillows lying flat near the headboard. A bed like that needed fluffy oversized pillows like the ones she saw on the decorating shows she used to watch.
She dreamt about collapsing into that giant bed and sleeping for a week. But that was just a fantasy. There was no way the little tornado of energy also known as her daughter would stand for it.
And there was the small matter of the man who owned said oversized bed.
Mr. Olson.
She”d been cleaning for him for two months before she ever saw his face. Her heart had nearly stopped when the giant, muscled man had appeared with her daughter, Cecelia, in tow. Her first assumption had been that Paul had found them and sent the largest man she”d ever seen to drag her back to him.
But Lia hadn”t hesitated to trust him, and despite his awkwardness, Mr. Olson had been incredibly sweet with her. He’d called her munchkin. Swoon.
Kaylie pulled another shirt from the stack and slipped in on the hanger. Just a few more and she would be done here and on her way back home with Lia. As long as the four-year-old hadn”t made too much of a mess downstairs while Kaylie had been up here.
Bringing her daughter with her to clean houses wasn”t ideal, but childcare was outrageously expensive here in Virginia. And there was no one Kaylie trusted to watch her anyway.
Trusting people usually got her into trouble. Like with Paul.
She finished Mr. Olson’s shirts and, with a longing glance at the wide expanse of soft mattress, left the bedroom to find her daughter.
Lia was in front of Mr. Olson”s giant TV. This man didn”t do anything small, she had realized early on. And when she”d seen him, it all made perfect sense.
His size was just one more reason she needed to keep her distance. Mr. Olson was twice the size of Paul, who had nearly killed her in a drunken rage. The idea of what her employer”s strength could do to her or Lia was just more fuel for her nightmares.
Though, oddly enough, she hadn”t had a single one about him.
Either way, he was just another client. Specifically, her most lucrative, which was another reason she hadn”t just quit as soon as he showed up unexpectedly and scared the life out of her. She couldn”t turn down the money, especially when he insisted on paying her even when he was out of town and didn”t need anything.
Stubborn man.
Still, she was extra careful not to cross paths with him anymore. She”d felt guilty about getting paid without working, but showing up when he told her not to had been a huge mistake–one she hadn”t repeated.
Even if Lia hadn”t stopped asking about Prince Charming since that day.
Kaylie wasn”t looking for a prince.
”Hey, sweetie. Are you ready to go?””
”Aww, can I watch the rest of Bluey?”
Kaylie smiled. Thankfully, the episodes were only seven minutes long. ”Sure.”
She sat down on the sofa next to her daughter, nearly groaning at the way the soft leather embraced her tired body. Lia snuggled into the crook of her arm, and she inhaled the sweet, strawberry scent of her daughter”s hair and kissed her head. ”I love you.”
Kaylie looked at her watch. Mr. Olson could be home any minute. But the hopeful look on her daughter”s face softened her resolve.
After the episode, Kaylie straightened the living room while Lia picked up the small bag of toys she brought with her to entertain her while Kaylie cleaned.
She took one last look around, making sure there was no trace of her or her daughter other than the clean dishes, completed laundry, and polished surfaces. Meals for Mr. Olson were stacked neatly in containers in the fridge.
She shut the door behind them and led Lia down the block toward the bus stop, thankful the drizzle from this afternoon was gone. Kaylie scanned the street, looking for anything out of place. Four years and she was still looking over her shoulder. She would never stop making sure she and her daughter remained safe. She hadn’t made it this far by being careless.
On the bus ride home, she held Lia close, watching the neat, well-manicured lawns of the neighborhoods slowly transform into the worn and disheveled streets of the rundown rural small town.
The five-block walk from the bus stop to their trailer was the most stressful part of her day. Kaylie glanced up at the darkening sky with a frown. As the fall slowly faded into winter, the sunset was earlier and earlier.
Maybe that last load of laundry had been a bad idea. It had pushed them to the later bus, and the last thing she wanted was to be walking in this neighborhood after dark.
She tucked her arm around Lia and pulled her close as they hurried down the weed-riddled sidewalk. ”Come on, sweetie. I”ll make chicken nuggets when we get home.”
Footsteps behind them made her glance over her shoulder again, but the man holding a few bags of groceries wasn”t paying any attention to them.
If she had a car, maybe they could avoid these tense five-block walks each night. Even if they had the money, a car meant a license. And a license meant someone could track her down.
A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.
She”d stick with the bus. Leaving a paper trail wasn’t an option. The documents that Drew had gotten her worked in a pinch, but they wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny.
She’d just get up earlier and end earlier in the day. None of her clients would mind. She might have to rearrange the schedule though. If she needed to take an earlier bus from Mr. Olson”s stop, she wouldn”t be able to come two days a week anymore. But she could shuffle some other houses and just do more work for him in one day. The meals she prepared for him would last long enough, as long as he was okay with it.
Kaylie didn”t relax until they were back in the trailer with the door locked and chained behind her.
She leaned back against it and exhaled heavily. Yeah, earlier would be better.
Kaylie: I need to rearrange my schedule so my days end earlier. Can I move you to one longer day per week?
Mr. Olson: I really prefer you come twice. Why the change?
Kaylie bristled at the question. None of your business. She typed the reply angrily before deleting it. Upsetting her best client wasn”t the best business strategy.
Kaylie: I”ll be there longer on the one day to make up for it and make sure everything gets done. It’ll even be cheaper for you.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled about lowering his rate, but if it would get him to agree, then she’d make it work.
There was pounding on the door of the small trailer that had Kaylie leaping from her spot on the edge of the bed and immediately moving in front of Lia.
“Ms. Richards!”
Kaylie bit back her groan at the sound of her landlady’s voice. Passing the old woman’s place was unavoidable on their way to the trailer parked in the backyard, but they rarely had reason to see her.
She opened the door and stood in the entrance. “Hi, Mrs. Fidden.”
The old lady was deceptively shrewd. While she was mostly sweet, she’d also made it clear that she didn’t tolerate any trouble. She’d lived in this neighborhood most of her life and wasn’t going to take any flack from anyone.
“I’ve been trying to speak with you, Ms. Richards.”
Kaylie exhaled and tried to stifle the sigh it wanted to become. “I’m sorry. I’ve been working a lot,” she replied. Lia tugged on her hand, and Kaylie shot her a look that she hoped Lia would understand meant to knock it off.
Mrs. Fidden wrung her hands. “I hate to do this, but with insurance and utility costs going up, I need to increase your rent.”
Kaylie’s mouth fell open. “What? No, you can’t–”
Mrs. Fidden’s eyes sharpened and her mouth tightened into a scowl. “Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do, missy. It’s my property you’re living on, isn’t it? This is my camper?”
Frustration welled up within her. “Yes, it is.”
“Which is why I can increase the rent if I very well please. It’s $1050 starting next month.” Mrs. Fidden pointed a wiry finger at her. “And don’t be late. You know I won’t hesitate to kick you out, even if you do have the sweetest little one I’ve ever seen.” Her severe scowl was replaced with a sweet smile directed at Lia.
Kaylie tugged her daughter to her side. Where on earth was she going to come up with an extra hundred and fifty bucks a month? She’d managed to sock away a bit of money for the last six months or so, but it wouldn’t take long to run through it with the increased rent.
“I’ll have it, Mrs. Fidden,” she said, despite the swirling questions in her mind.
“Have a good night, then.” Mrs. Fidden disappeared into the rapidly darkening backyard, and Kaylie shut and relocked the door.
“Mommy, how long until dinner?”
“Just a few minutes, sweetie,” she said absently as she looked back at the phone buzzing in her hand.
Anthony: Why do you need to end early?
Kaylie exhaled her annoyance.
Kaylie: Nevermind. I”ll move some other clients instead.
Kaylie frowned at the phone. So much for Mr. Nice Guy. Why did he need her to come two days anyway? Granted, he did make a rather big mess and apparently had no idea how to load a dishwasher, but he was just a single guy who lived alone. Half the time he wasn”t home anyway.
She couldn”t help but wonder what he did for work. He certainly didn”t seem like a stuffy businessman, flying around the country closing deals. But blue-collar guys didn”t travel that much, did they?
Either way, with the rent increase, she definitely couldn’t reduce the hours she was working for Mr. Olson. Cooking his meals and doing his laundry paid better than all the other cleaning jobs she had.
She”d just have to make it work, even if it meant dropping another client, or moving them to Saturdays.