Chapter 2
“ W ell, I’ll get out of your hair.”
Nell slapped her hands on her thighs, jumped off the porch swing, and grabbed the broom and dustpan. She quickly swept the pile of glass into it, moving the spilled flowers off to the side one by one, while avoiding the man’s cold stare.
The minute he’d seen Marco’s head in the window of the van, he’d straightened, eyes narrowing. The last thing she needed was one more person judging her parenting choices, so it was past time to get gone.
She set the full dustpan by the door, picked up the ruined flowers, and straightened, looking anywhere but at the man on the swing.
She tried to stay positive, or at least appear happy on the outside even when things weren’t going great, because people were more likely to treat you well when you were pleasant and didn’t complain. But this man made it difficult to be cheerful. He’d been rude and cold from the moment he’d opened the door, giving her one-word orders in that harsh tone.
A minute ago, in the middle of his panic attack, he’d seemed vulnerable, in need of help, and she’d reached out to him on instinct. But now he’d pulled himself together again, standing to his impressive full height and smoothing a hand down his vest.
Ever since she’d looked up—and up—at him from her kneeling position, he hadn’t smiled once. He’d towered over her with a frown creasing his brow then, and he was doing it again now.
He had black, wavy hair, cut short and brushed back from his face, with liberal threads of silver at the temples. He was older than she was, maybe late thirties or early forties, with sharp features, olive skin, and deep brown eyes.
He wore a three-piece charcoal suit, dressed for court or a funeral, not for hanging out at home in the middle of the morning. His broad-shouldered frame filled out the white dress shirt and vest as if it had been tailored for him. If he had the money to live in this neighborhood, the suit probably had been tailored for him.
To complete the formal look, a white pocket square peeked out of his jacket, silver cufflinks visible at his wrist. Maybe he had a vintage pocket watch hiding in the vest pocket as well.
“Who is that? Your son?” He nodded toward the van window, where Marco’s chin still rested on the window frame.
Nell squared her shoulders and forced a smile. “Yes. He’s doing fine, I promise. He has snacks and his tablet in there.”
Her voice came out a shade defensive, especially since the man kept looking down at her—no, studying her, like a bug on glass. He’d see through her fake smile in another minute, too.
He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t say anything else, and somehow that prompted her to go on, to try to explain.
“We had an unusual morning, that’s all.” Her voice wobbled on the last word, betraying her.
This was shaping up to be the second worst day of her life, and this man’s judgemental stare might just be the thing that broke her.
But she didn’t have the luxury of breaking down right now. That was for people who had the time and space to curl up in bed and cry. Not for single moms about to be evicted from their rental homes.
She’d woken to a loud banging on her door at 6:37 a.m., which wouldn’t have been so early if she’d had any sleep. But sick children didn’t care about their parents’ sleep schedules, and she’d been up with Marco until close to 3:00.
She’d dragged on an oversized sweatshirt over her sleep shorts and tank, and opened her front door to find Eddy, her landlord, with a packet of papers and a giant cup of coffee in his hand. The coffee wasn’t for her, but the eviction papers were.
Even though she’d smiled her most charming smile and explained that her two jobs’ paychecks hadn’t quite lined up right this week, and she’d have the money for him in another week, he’d shoved the papers into her hand anyway. And told her now she’d have to pay a late fee, along with the rent, or else be evicted.
“You have two days. Then I’m filing them,” he’d grunted, and walked off.
Stupid, predatory low-income rental contracts. So many more rules, more penalties, and always, always, less of a safety net. And finding a new place—a landlord who would take her application after she’d been evicted—would be close to impossible.
And the one thing she absolutely would not let herself think about was Marco’s adoption agreement. If she couldn’t provide a home for him, she wasn’t a fit parent.
No one would take her son away from her, though. Because she would find the money in two days. Every other time she’d come close to missing the rent payment, she’d made it work, and this time would be no different. She found a way every time, because she had to find a way.
Marco had reminded her of the reason why by coming downstairs, his face hot, wrapped in a blanket, and completely unfit for school today. For the next forty-eight hours, nothing mattered but scraping together the money.
“An unusual morning,” the man on the porch echoed.
He’d probably never had a bill he couldn’t pay. His cufflinks would no doubt pay her rent.
Nell forced her biggest, brightest smile. “I guess we all have them sometimes. Anyway. It was nice to meet you …”
“Ben,” he supplied, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Ben. I’m Nell. And I’ll get out of your way now.” A quick escape, and then she could cry in the van. No, later tonight, after Marco was in bed. If he stayed asleep.
“Why is he with you? He’s old enough to be in school.” Ben’s voice was calm, but it held a hint of authority. Like he was used to getting people to tell him things.
And for some reason, she told him. “Of course he goes to school. On normal days. This was the best I could do today.”
Ben tilted his head to the side, as if waiting for her to go on, and to her horror, she did go on.
“He had a fever this morning, so I couldn’t send him to school. He’s got shows to watch and the windows are open. He’s fine, I promise. I’m not a bad mom.” Again, that telltale wobble in her voice.
“I didn’t say you were.” A frown creased his brow.
Another thought occurred to her, even worse than the idea he was judging her parenting.
“Are you really going to call my boss? To try to pay for the flowers?”
“Of course.”
“If you do …” She ground the toe of her shoe against his porch in a half circle. “If you do call her, please don’t tell her I had him with me today. It’s against the rules. I kind of … snuck him into the van this morning.”
He gave a sharp nod. “Understood. Nell …” He paused, as if trying out the name. “I’m sorry you’ve had a rough morning.”
With the words, his voice changed, along with his face. She’d thought him cold and aloof. But now his brown eyes softened with compassion, and that was almost worse, because him being nice made her feel everything with twice the intensity.
“It’s all right. I guess that makes two of us.” She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Anyway. I hope you feel better. And I’m sorry for interrupting your morning.” She turned on her heel to go.
“Is anything else the matter?” He cleared his throat, interrupting her departure. “I don’t mean to pry. But you’ve almost cried twice in the last few minutes.”
She rounded on him, still clutching the remnants of the bouquet. “I’m not crying.”
“Okay.” The word was soft, patient.
And then more words came tumbling out. “But if I were crying, it would be because I’m being evicted in two days if I don’t come up with the rent plus a late fee. If I were crying, it would be because my kid was up all night, and neither of us slept, and he is the world’s absolute worst napper, so he won’t sleep in the car. And I just dropped a seventy-dollar flower arrangement, and even if it’s not coming out of my next paycheck—which I doubt—I have to go back to the shop and get a replacement. And explain all of this to my boss, a woman who has apparently never had a bad day. Or a child.”
Nell’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, as if she could pull the words back inside. Who was this man, and why did she feel like telling him all her problems?
“I’m sorry. I don’t usually say those things out loud.” She glanced down at her smartwatch and panic threaded through her veins. “And I’m late. I have to go.”
Ben stood still on the threshold of his front porch, perma-frown still creasing his forehead.
Nell did what she did best of all, which was erase every trace of tension from her face and smile one last time. It wasn’t her most brilliant one, but it would have to do.
“Have a wonderful day, Ben,” she said. She shoved the ragged, wet flowers into his hands, turned, and fled down the steps.
She wrenched open the driver’s side door, slid into the front seat, and took a couple of steadying breaths, hands at ten and two on the wheel.
“Wh-what was wrong with that man?” Marco’s face, with his smooth brown skin and halo of dark curls, appeared between the two bucket seats at the front of the van.
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to smooth out the edges in her voice.
“Why was he crying? Were you making him feel better?” he asked, his voice scratchy from coughing last night. Her son was far too observant.
“He wasn’t crying.” Thank God she’d dried her own eyes completely before getting into the van. “He was nervous, I think. Or anxious is a better word. I sat with him for a few minutes until he calmed down.”
“Y-you dropped the flowers. Maybe he didn’t like the mess.”
“Maybe so. But I cleaned it up and we’ll go back to the shop and get some new ones. Everything will be fine.”
“That’s okay.” He flopped back into his seat. “I’m hot. You need to f-feel my forehead again.”
Nell squeezed between the bucket seats of the van into the back, aware she was still parked in front of Ben’s house, where he could see her. A hand to Marco’s forehead confirmed the fever was back.
“You need more medicine.” Keeping her voice light, she fished out the cough medicine and pain reliever from her bag, and gave him tablets of each. He chewed both without complaining, which was even more worrying.
He pulled the blanket she’d brought in the van up against his chin. Nell frowned. Her seven year-old was never cold.
“You should probably keep me home from school tomorrow, too,” he rasped.
“We’ll see how you are tomorrow.” She absolutely could not afford an unpaid day off work at this point. “Do you have enough to drink back there?”
He sighed dramatically. “You packed three juice boxes and two water bottles.”
Settling into the nest of blankets and pillows she’d set up for him around his booster seat, he buckled the seatbelt and picked up his tablet again. Flower arrangements surrounded him in the crowded space in the back of the van, making him look like a woodland creature or a cherub.
“Should we listen to more music while we drive?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m going to watch another show.” He slid on his headphones and sank down lower into the seat.
Nell put the van in reverse and programmed her maps app to go to the next delivery address on her list. Looking at the map now, it was easy to see where she’d mistaken Ben’s house for a neighbor’s and knocked on the wrong door. Running on no sleep and horrible news was a bad combination. Though she made plenty of mistakes on normal days, too.
She made the next delivery with no issues. Well, other than running over the curb with the edge of her tire while backing out of the woman’s driveway. At the bump, Marco looked up from his tablet and rolled his eyes, used to this part of driving with her.
“Sorry!” she called over her shoulder. “Just a bit too far left.”
They passed the upscale coffee shop where Nell worked on the weekends, and she swung through the drive through. The perks of working here included four free drinks a week, and today was a day for the frothiest, most sugary coffee drink possible.
After her co-worker handed her the triple shot vanilla latte with extra whipped cream through the little window, some of her sense of well-being returned. With enough caffeine, she could make this work.
She took a long sip and hit the gas.
“Surviving and thriving,” she whispered, repeating the catchphrase from the financial well-being podcast she’d been listening to. So the advice on hoarding paychecks and cutting corners hadn’t helped much so far. This coffee was free, so it wouldn’t deplete her budget.
She glanced back in the rearview mirror, checking on Marco, who’d checked out watching one of his documentaries. This wasn’t how she’d wanted their life to turn out. Struggling to make ends meet. Never slowing down, and never, ever feeling secure enough to think beyond next month.
But you took what life gave you and made the best of it. Even if sometimes, a tiny part of you wished life would give you a freaking break for once. But breaks were rare, and mostly, people let you down, and all you could count on was yourself. Which was great, because she was enough, all on her own.
This evening, she’d start looking at listings for a third part-time job, maybe something online with flexible hours to fit in around everything else.
As for the rent-plus-late-fee, she’d swallow her pride, put on her biggest smile, and ask Amy if she could have her next paycheck early. Her rule-loving boss couldn’t find out about Marco tagging along today, though, for the plan to have any chance of working. Maybe she’d pick up a couple extra shifts at the coffee shop, too. Some of her regulars dropped twenties in the tip jar on occasion.
If all else failed, she’d apply for a loan at the sketchy paycheck loan shop downtown, the one with the sky-high interest rates. With her poor credit, a bank would never offer her money.
She turned on her favorite internet radio station, keeping the volume low so it wouldn’t interfere with Marco’s show, and navigated the afternoon traffic to her next delivery. She’d get the right address. She’d do all the rest of the deliveries seamlessly, make it back to the shop early, and pick up the replacement flowers.
She’d hide Marco in the back of the van, go inside and talk to Amy, and everything would work out fine.
It would be fine, because it had to be. There was no other option.
* * *
She did not get back early to Tillie’s Flowers. Downtown traffic snarls delayed her by over an hour. Sweat stuck to her back as the late afternoon sun poured into the side window of the van.
The shop wasn’t much to look at from the outside, just a corner spot in a strip mall. But inside, a riot of flowers and greenery greeted her every morning. Those were the times she loved her job, assembling the day’s deliveries of colorful bouquets and potted greenery, inhaling the familiar damp petal smell of the shop.
She threw the van into park and checked the back seat. Marco was asleep, head against the window, his face flushed. Nell put the van into park and dug around in her bag for his medicine. She popped two of the chewable tablets into her palm and climbed into the back seat again.
“Marco.” She brushed a hand over his burning forehead. “Little bird. We need to give you more medicine.”
“Don’t want to.” He pushed her hand away and curled up on his side, leaning against the door. He wrapped his skinny arms around his middle.
“Sometimes we all have to do things we don’t want to do.” Understatement of the year. She scooped a hand behind his neck and pulled him up to a sitting position.
“I d-don’t feel good,” he groaned.
“I know you don’t. This will help.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he opened his mouth and chewed the tablets she put in it. “Now drink water, so you stay hydrated.”
She was holding the bottle up to his lips when a shadow crossed the window of the van. Nell almost groaned out loud at Amy’s bad timing. Her boss frowned at her through the glass, her freckled face red with annoyance and her cropped ginger hair glowing orange in the late afternoon light.
Nell set Marco’s head down on the blanket, and he curled up, immediately asleep again in the booster seat. She opened the back door and climbed over his sleeping form, shutting the door softly behind her.
Amy crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together. She stood a head shorter than Nell, so she had to look up.
“I guess you weren’t planning to tell me you had him with you today,” she said.
“I’m so sorry.” Nell smiled as brightly as she could. “But he had a fever, and we got a late start this morning, and—”
“I’m not a fan of excuses. But you already know that. And I don’t like making excuses for other people, either. When Mrs. Hayes called and said her delivery never arrived, I told her you were running late, and you’d be there soon. I should have called you. I trusted you’d be there, but maybe I shouldn’t have.” Her sharp hazel eyes pinned Nell in place.
“I went to the wrong address and I dropped the vase. But I’ll pay for it. And I’ll take the new flowers to her right now.”
“Why didn’t you call and let me know what happened?”
“Because I … I didn’t—”
“You didn’t want me to know you made a mistake. And you probably didn’t want me to find out you had Marco with you.”
“Yes.” Nell’s throat tightened and she dropped her gaze to her sneakers. Amy was about to fire her. It was that kind of day.
Amy cocked her head to the side, considering. “I don’t like people hiding things from me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it right. I got back as soon as I could, and I’ll go out now and deliver the new ones.”
“That’s what I was going to tell you to do. Until I saw you with your boy.” Amy jerked her chin at the back window of the van. “He seems pretty sick.”
“He is.” Her voice came out almost a whisper.
“Also, if you’d called me, I could have told you about a phone call I got this morning. From a Dr. Ben Friedman. You know him?”
“I … Yes, kind of. He was at the wrong address I went to.”
Amy’s brow furrowed. “First thing he asked me was, do my drivers take tips, and could he leave one. I said yes, I can process a tip for him. And then he said, he wanted to make sure my driver, Nell, received this tip.”
Amy cleared her throat, clearly quoting Ben. “‘For her kind assistance on a difficult day,’ he said. All formal, just like that. He paid for the flowers you dropped, too.”
“Oh.” Nell let out a puff of breath. “That was nice of him.”
Amy raised an eyebrow at her. “The tip he left you was five hundred dollars.”
“He … What?” Nell’s mouth dropped open. The tears were back, burning her eyes for the dozenth time today, and she fought them back hard.
Amy studied her face, her expression softening. “Whatever you did to help him out, it obviously meant a lot. Go home, Nell. I’ll have Jackie deliver those replacement flowers.”
Nell’s hand flew to her throat. “You’re firing me.”
“I’m not firing you,” Amy said, sounding exasperated. “I’m telling you to go home and take care of your boy. And let me know if you need to stay home tomorrow to take care of him. You’ve got the sick days, you know.”
“Okay.” Her brain raced ahead. Five hundred dollars plus her coffee shop paycheck would cover the extra late fee on her rent. Why would Ben want to give that much money to her? He had to expect something in return. Gifts like that didn’t come without obligations. People always had motives, and sometimes those hidden motives were a nasty surprise.
But she was too damn poor to refuse the money, and Amy had just given her a free pass to go home. She’d take the opportunity to escape, and think about the rest later. Relief flooded her system, and with it, a wave of exhaustion.
On impulse, she reached out and squeezed Amy’s upper arm. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank him.”