Page 4 of Claimed in the Dark

Like the funeral costs from my husband who’d died four and a half years ago.

Like the college tuition and administrative fees that had been consolidated into a big, fat, ugly sum a couple of years ago.

Like all those even older debt collection notices from the scary and stressful days when Brady had been born.

It wasn’t my life’s calling to work at that security company, but it was a job. If I stayed there for a couple more months, I might even be eligible for health insurance coverage, but I wasn’t sure if that fell into wishful thinking born of desperation or if there was a franchise policy that would actually make that happen.

“Mama, Carly’s calling you,” Brady announced. He pushed out of the chair and crossed the small apartment to hand me my phone.

I cringed, knowing she’d be wondering where we were, too.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Are you guys coming?” the babysitter asked.

I heaved out a sigh. “Yeah, we are. I’ll drop off Brady any second now.”

“You said my mommy’s coming any second,” the boy on the couch reminded me.

I gritted my teeth. “Mrs. Richards is late to pick up her boys and I was watching them again.”

Carly, a kind but sometimes diva-like college student, groaned. “Louisa, she’s always late. She’s always making you late too.”

“I know. She’s just…”

“She’s taking advantage of you,” she corrected. “And no, before you ask even though I know you hate to ask, you can’t bring her two boys over to my place and have me watch them before she comes back. I did that one time, Louisa, and never will again. Those boys are too much for me.”

I bit my lip, hating how that compromise had ended. When Mrs. Richards was late to get her kids from my apartment one particular time last month, I’d texted her that I was late to get to work and that she could get them at Carly’s apartment. She’d never even replied to my texts, never acknowledged it until hours later. Carly had been about to call someone for child abandonment, but Mrs. Richards showed up late with hickeys all over her neck, deciding to have more playtime since her husband had been out of town for work.

“I know. And I’m sorry, again. I hate that she put us both in a spot.”

“Just let yourselves in when you can. I planned to bake some cookies with Brady tonight, but I don’t want to leave all the ingredients out on the counter for too long.”

I nodded, though she couldn’t see me. “Okay. We will. And thanks for…” I sighed. “Thanks for understanding that I’m stuck waiting.”

She huffed. “I just wish you wouldn’t let her take advantage of you.”

I wished that too. I wished for a lot of things. But I couldn’t tell Mrs. Richards that I wouldn’t watch her two boys again when it was passive income I could earn while spending time with my own son. That little extra side hustle money put food on our table.

Which… her boys end up taking most of, anyway.

I set my phone down and as I turned to pace again, knocks sounded on the door.

“Finally,” I muttered.

The boys ran to the door. When the Richards boy tried to open it, Brady stopped him. “No. You gotta ask who it is. You can’t open the door to strangers.”

I smiled, loving how smart he was. It couldn’t be a stranger, though. We were expecting that damn woman. “Go on, it’s got to be her.”

He pulled the door open and Mrs. Richards plastered on a phony smile. “Hey, Louisa. How’s it going?”

“You’re late,” I replied, thrusting her toddler at her. She took him, grimacing at his sticky hands and drooly mouth. “I told you before, I can’t be late. I need to get to work.”

She scoffed, watching me gather Brady and my purse to rush out with him. “You need to find a man so you don’t have to work.”

I deadpanned at her, loathing her standing there in her designer clothes, her hair professionally styled, and those love marks on her neck. “I can’t keep doing this if you’re always going to be late.”

“Oh, it’s just a few minutes. Come on, Edison,” she told her older son. “Let’s go get your iPad at home.”