While checking her out at the front desk, a young kid shuffles by the front windows. I wouldn’t normally think anything of it, except I’ve been in this town for the last ten years and not once have I seen him before.
He keeps his head down, hood pulled up despite the heat, footsteps slow like he’s unsure where he’s supposed to be. Charlie notices him too. Our eyes meet briefly across the room, a silent conversation of questions passing between us.
Before Mrs. Ruby can make it through the front door, I call out, “Hey, have you heard of anyone new moving into town?”
She stops short, her arm wrapped safely around the crook of Bob’s elbow.
She pauses, turning back slowly to look at me. “Not since that nice young family on Burberry Street last spring.”
Her gaze flicks toward the window, then back to me, a deep crease forming between her brows.
I nod and shake my head. Maybe he’s in town with his family, just passing through, and needed to stretch a bit. I shrug and move back to my station, cleaning everything up before my next appointment arrives.
Still, I catch Charlie watching the street a moment longer than necessary before she turns back to her client, scissors snipping as if nothing unusual happened at all.
The rear car door slams into place, and I take a deep centering breath before climbing back into the front seat. After a full day at the salon, all I want is a few minutes of quiet, with the seat heaters turned to high to ease the tension in my back while the AC blows straight at me. Unfortunately, the salon is only three minutes from the babysitter Haley hangs with after school when I have to work late.
My yearning for a quiet ride isn’t in the books. The moment the engine comes to life and the air flutters through the cabin, she starts to recount her day from the moment I dropped her off this morning.
My mind half-listens, while the other thinks about all the things I need to get done tonight before I finally tuck her intobed and maybe get a moment of solitude before my eyes fall shut from exhaustion.
If I’m genuinely this tired now, how in the hell do I possibly think I could handle throwing another kid into the mix?
“Mama, did you hear me?” Haley whines from behind me. Her little feet kick my seat anxiously.
“Sorry, baby. Say that again. I was paying attention to the road.” I lie, knowing damn well I could make this drive blindfolded after driving it nearly every day for the last five years.
“I said… we need to make cupcakes for tomorrow.” She perks up at the end, as if I’ll forget about the sass that started her sentence.
My head falls against the headrest with a cushioned thud. Great, another thing to add to my plate. By we, she means me. Which means that my moment of solitude is looking less and less like an episode of my favorite reality trash TV and more like whipping up frosting at ten pm.
“Why am I just hearing about this now, Hals?” I check the review mirror before throwing on my signal to turn onto our property.
My SUV bounces down the narrow road, leaving a gritty cloud in its wake. The mesquite trees that line our drive cast shade around the overgrowth of shrubs and cacti that fill the empty spaces. It’s a perfect natural privacy fence from the county road, and keeps most people from walking through our land.
“Because Mrs. Linda, Casey’s mom, was supposed to bring them for Friday celebration, but Casey won’t be at school tomorrow, so I said you could do it. Your cupcakes are way better than Mrs. Linda’s anyway.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, baby,” I whisper on a laugh, and pull the car under the carport.
“So can we?” Haley asks as I unbuckle her car seat.
“Yeah, baby. We can make cupcakes, but you need to go feed Henry and the girls first, okay?”
She throws me a thumbs-up held high in the air as she races toward the front door, leaving it wide open in her wake. Bear comes out after her, stretching lazily, his typically white fur covered in dirt from his adventures around the property.
“Hey, boy. You keeping the house safe?”
I give his head a scratch, and he takes it before finding a spot on the porch to lie in wait in case someone should come up the road uninvited now that his humans are home.
He should be out back keeping an eye on the chickens and Henry, the goat, but he’s the least interested livestock dog I’ve ever seen. Maybe if he didn’t spend his first year as a little girl’s dressing doll, he’d have the typical temperament of a great pyrenees.
Dropping my bags on the hall bench, I toe off my boots and head for the kitchen to prepare for the nightmare that is baking with a tornado child. Except for when I bend down to pull out my industrial-size cupcake pan, it’s missing.
A groan escapes my throat as I remember exactly where it is.
“It’s going to be a long night.”
GOODBYE TEXAS, HELLO FLORIDA
