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Sorry, gotta do it. “I highly doubt that.”
“But—”
“Ma’am, I’ve been in my line of work for nearly two decades. If I paid you a quarter for every wrongly accused offender I’ve run across, you wouldn’t have enough to buy a cup of this cheap coffee.”
A gasp as my words hit their mark. Oddly, the on-target hit feels off.
I fold my hands on the table and lean in. “You want advice? Here it is: Get a grip, get real—and get a good lawyer.”
This gasp is more of a giant sucking sound. There’s a hanging moment of quiet, and then Hollie pops off the vinyl seat so fast my equilibrium is rocked. She grabs the coffee pot, and for a split second, I fear it’s about to be emptied into my lap.
I’d respect her for it.
Instead, she stalks away, returning a moment later with my check, slapping it onto the scratched and gouged surface, finally disappearing behind swinging kitchen doors.
Meanwhile, the after-image of her swinging shape uncomfortably lingers—but I’ve never been one to let a pretty figure swayme. Not in a number of years, anyhow.
It’s the image of glistening blue eyes that might last longer.
Whatever. It’s not my fault if the truth is hard to swallow. But man, I’m glad I’m past the whole raising kids mess. Not an easy task—and I had adequate means, plus my parents’ devoted assistance.
I pull my wallet from my pocket and stare into a sea of green. My fingers search out a tip, landing on a five. Somehow, a twenty emerges instead.
Begrudging the sigh that slips out, I slap the bill onto the table, snatch the ticket, and stride to the cash register.
I hope it’s the other floozy who checks me out.
Hollie
Mornings are usually my favorite.
Not this one.
What I need is another cup of caffeine. Unfortunately, I poured the last grounds from the can, barely enough for a single cup, an hour ago.
My Bible lies unopened near the empty mug. A better Christian would find comfort there on a day like this. Or at least be in a pew at nine on a Sunday.
The sunshine streaming through the sink window, fully illuminating my tiny kitchen, doesn’t cheer me either.
“Hey.”
I turn toward the voice of the person I love most on the entire planet. Whatever his shortcomings, whatever his failure of respect or obedience, I’ll always love him with my whole heart. He’s the single best thing I’ve ever been given, even if his entrance into the world was a sorrow all its own.
“Good morning, honey.”
Jacob eyes the dribble at the bottom of the pot and peers into the obviously empty can. “No more coffee?”
I frown. “Since when do you drink coffee.”
One shoulder lifts in a shrug, and I’m familiar enough with teen-boy speak to know that’s all I’m going to get.
He pulls out the chair across the tiny café table and sits. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I called in sick.”
He squints. “What’s wrong? You’re never sick.”
Not true—I just never miss work. My son is more important than any paycheck, however, and he and I need to talk. Putting on the mom face, I say as much.
