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“A therapist.”
“What a stupid thing to say! You’re the one who needs therapy. You’re the one who’s always getting into trouble.”
Stormy gave a sad little smile. “I guess it seems that way to you.” She stuffed the sandwiches into plastic bags. “We won’t be home until late. After I take those clothes by The Way We Were, I’m checking out the flea market in Daytona. I’m thinking about opening a stall.”
Nina crossed her arms. ‘‘Oh? First, you frequent pawnshops. Now, you’re going to become a shill? Why can’t you do something respectable, like have your own restaurant again?”
“Nina, you may not consider flea marketing chic, but having a stall is just as respectable as owning a sandwich shop. Besides, I’m a felon, remember? I can’t have a beer or liquor license anymore, so even if I had the wherewithal, anything other than a hot dog stand is out. I don’t have the cash for a food license, much less a spot on the beach on Anastasia Island. I was lucky on the deal with the sandwich shop. I can’t get it back. The building isn’t even there anymore, and the land is up for sale. I have to find something else to do that will support Liane and me. And at the market, Liane can be with me every step of the way—no babysitters. It’ll be exciting for her, and we can spend more time together.”
“Oh, sure, you’re such a good little mother. Maybe you should’ve thought about Liane before you took up with Hadley Wilson and got us all into this mess.”
It took several heartbeats for Stormy to marshal enough prudence to deflect Nina’s emotional bullet. “I’m trying to be a good mother, Nina. And I’m trying to do what is right. A little support from you would be welcome.”
Nina’s face colored. “What do you call what I’ve been doing for the past year and more?”
Taking advantage of me, Stormy thought. Instead of speaking in the heat of anger, she stepped into the hall, and a moment later, she heard the dishwasher door being slammed, china rattling.
Gloomy but unflinching, Stormy nodded. The sounds were a fitting exclamation point to both Nina’s acrimony and her own determination.
The ownerof the thrift shop, Barbara, fingered the clothes spread out over the counter, then dug into her pocket and pulled out a small wad of cash, counting out a few and holding the bills up for Stormy’s inspection. “For the lot.”
“That’s all?” Stormy could not keep the dismay from her voice, even as her eyes drifted to the crisp bills the woman held up, probably the reason the woman had proposed the amount the way she had.Not the woman’s first rodeo, Stormy thought.
The woman gestured toward the beaded bag Liane held, licked her thumb, then counted out four more bills. “For the purse.”
Liane tucked the bag beneath her arm. “Mom!”
Stormy turned back to the shop owner. “Why so much for the purse?”
“Those aren’t ersatz beads; they’re real seed pearls.”
Stormy took Liane aside. “We need the money, sweetheart, or I wouldn’t ask you to give it up.”
Liane clutched the purse and gazed at her mother with wide solemn eyes. A cocoon of guilt enclosed Stormy.
Up until that moment, Janelle had been hanging back. Now she came over and put her arm around Liane’s shoulder. “When my dad took all our money, we had to sell everything in our house to help my mom.”
Oh, these old, old children, Stormy thought, weeping inside.
“Never mind,” she said, then turned to Barbara. “Just the clothes, please, but thank you.”
She called to the children, but they were whispering. Then, Liane put the purse on the counter. The shop owner looked at Stormy. She paused, thinking, then looked at Liane’s determined little face. Finally, she nodded at Barbara. The woman counted out the money into Liane’s hand, and the child held it out to her mother.
Stormy had a thought. She turned to Barbara. “What about Swarovski jewelry? Do you handle that?”
“I do, but only on consignment.”
“That works for me. I’ve got pounds of the stuff. My Mom loved it. I’ll bring it by.”
While they were buckling seat belts, an idea pierced Stormy’s remorse. She twisted to face the girls in the back seat. “Sweetheart, suppose we consider the money you got for the purse as your investment in our new business together?”
“What kind of business? Aren’t I too little to be in business?”
“No, you’re not. Not in this one.” Liane brightened instantly at the prospect of being involved in something so adult asinvestingin a business, and all the way to Daytona, Stormy entertained the girls with her ideas and what she hoped to accomplish. She found she enjoyed sharing with the girls.
Liane came back with intelligent ideas of her own. “I could sell the toys I don’t play with anymore.”
“You certainly could,” Stormy agreed. “There’s a box of ’em in the garage.” So involved was she in their spirited discussion that it wasn’t until they’d found a spot in the acres and acres of parking that she glanced into the rearview mirror to search out Tyler Mangus.
