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“What are you doing?” Mom asked.
“Baking,” I answered, opening up the flour with a little more force than it needed so it gave a dusty, white “poof.”
“Baking?” Mom repeated in a question.
“I can’t afford to buy nice things to say thank you to everyone, so I’m gonna make stuff for them,” I explained.
“That’s nice,” Ada said.
Lottie leaned a hip against the counter. “Mom and I’ve been talking.”
Wonderful. Mom and Lottie talking. This spelled Disaster for me with a capital “D.”
“About what?” I asked, though I didn’t want to know.
“Well,” Lottie started. “Mom called the landlord to this place and gave up the lease. He’s got a waiting list and wants to jack up the rent, so he’s pleased as punch.”
I turned and stared. “What?”
“I’m moving in with Trixie,” Mom informed me.
“You can’t move in with Trixie!” I kind of yelled.
“Why not?” Mom asked.
I didn’t have an answer to that. She was getting around better all the time. Eddie was right. She didn’t need me as much as I thought she did.
I knew I couldn’t fight it and didn’t have the energy anyway.
I turned back to baking.
“Where am I going to live?” I asked.
“We found you a sweet one bedroom, in a big old Victorian house close to Eddie,” Lottie told me.
I closed my eyes.
I opened them.
“Where are you going to live?” I asked Lottie.
“I got some money stashed. I’m going to buy a place. I’m also going to pay for Mom’s OT, PT and medical stuff and give Trixie a little bit extra until Mom gets fully back on her feet. I’ll stay with them until I get my place. You’re off the hook.”
I turned to them.
“Who said I want to be off the hook?” I inquired.
“No one, we’re just letting you off the hook,” Lottie replied.
I stared at them then turned back to baking.
“Whatever,” I mumbled.
“Listen, Missy…” Uh-oh, Mom used the M-word. “You’re all-fired determined not to live your own life, so we’re making you and you don’t have anything to say about it. Got me?”
I nodded. I knew better than to argue during a Missy Moment.
“Henrietta Louise…” Mom knew I wasn’t fully committed to the nod.
