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Cupping her own mug, Faith shifted to face Andrea. “This is the kick in the pants you needed to find a better job. You were wasting your talent at Sports.”
Andrea sipped her tea, Faith’s cure for whatever ails you. “In this economy, it doesn’t matter how much talent you have. It’s going to take a while for me to find a new job.”
Faith crossed her legs and drank some tea. “We won’t let you starve.”
Andrea offered a weak smile. “Thank you. I have some savings, but it will go pretty fast.”
Constance shared a look between the other two women. “Speaking of food, are we all home for dinner tonight?”
Andrea avoided Faith’s knowing look. “I am.”
A knock on the door interrupted their Saturday evening dinner discussions.
Faith rose from the sofa, steadying her mug. “I’ll get it.”
Andrea stood and waited for Constance to help Tiffany to her feet. The other woman was young and pretty in knee-length denim shorts and a white cotton blouse. Once Tiffany stood steady, Andrea followed mother and daughter to the doorway.
Faith checked the peephole. “Who is it?”
“Wade Street. I’ve come for my wife.”
The angry male voice on the other side of the door froze Andrea’s blood in her veins. Her eyes shot to Constance. The young mother gripped her daughter’s shoulders, holding her close against her legs. Constance’s skin was paper white; even her lips were pale. Her green eyes, the only color remaining in her face, were stretched as wide as saucers. So were Tiffany’s.
“Open the door.” Constance’s voice was thin. She shifted Tiffany to stand behind her despite the little girl’s protests.
“Are you sure?” Andrea bit her lips to keep from screaming, “No!”
Faith looked from Andrea to Constance. “We should call the police.”
Constance straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Let me talk with him first. Open the door.”
Andrea stepped forward to release the security lock. She took a steadying breath before pulling open the door. Constance’s soon-to-be ex-husband reminded Andrea of a concrete wall. He was tall, maybe six feet, and broad, perhaps more than two hundred pounds. He was clean-shaven with neatly trimmed, wavy brown hair and beady blue eyes.
Andrea kept her grip on the doorknob and forced a cool greeting. “May I help you?”
“It’s about damn time.” Wade Street looked past Andrea to Constance. “Get your stuff. You’re coming home.”
Constance stood tall. Her hand remained on Tiffany’s arm to keep the little girl behind her. “How did you find me?”
Wade smirked. “Your mother told me you were working for the Monarchs. I followed you here from the arena.”
The malice in Wade’s expression gave Andrea chills. He’d followed his estranged wife from her place of work to her home. He’d probably told her to frighten her. Andrea looked at Constance and saw her roommate swallow hard. She willed the young mother to remain strong.
Faith moved closer to Constance’s side. “This is our home and we don’t want you here.”
Wade gave Faith a dismissive look. “Get your stuff, Connie. And the girl’s. I don’t have all day.”
Constance didn’t waver. “Tiff and I aren’t leaving. This is our home.”
Faith settled her hands on her hips. “You heard her. Now leave.”
“Faith.” Andrea tried a soft, warning tone. Her friend’s temper wouldn’t help the deteriorating situation.
Wade’s narrowed eyes shifted from Constance to Tiffany and back. “If you want to stay here, the hell with you. But you can’t have the girl.” Wade spoke to Tiffany. “Come here. Now.”
Tiffany stood with her mother. Her lips thinned. “No.”
Andrea saw the promise of a stubborn personality. She started to close the door. “You have your answer. Now, we’d like you to leave.”
