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Mia chews her lip, snuggling shyly into Red’s arms. I reach for her, knowing she’ll feel better with daddy. Honestly, so will I, not knowing what level of crazy I’m dealing with.
“Mia, ma’am. That’s her name. But she also goes by honeybee sometimes,” I answer for my little girl.
Red’s eyes pop and she turns her head, then sends another uneasy look toward her mom. “We’re just here to drop off Jackson’s truck. Where’s dad?”
“Oh, who the hell knows? Putzing around the house, pretending to keep an eye on me, I’m sure. It’s nice to get some fresh air during his naps. I could never get out when you were around, after all.”
Sadie winces. It’s slightly amusing seeing her dancing on serious eggshells, but what kind of prick would I be if I didn’t offer her an out?
“Tell your son he’s got major brake problems. That thing should be towed or driven very, very carefully. I’d have done the job myself, but we’re out of time.”
Mrs. Kelley perks up, giving Red a sideways glance. “Nice find, dear. Every woman appreciates a man who’s good with his hands.”
Red nearly falls over. Mia peeks over my shoulder and laughs at the awkward gesture, clapping her hands. I don’t let on how much it shocks me.
“She’s on my payroll. Nothing more.” I give her my hardest look, but it doesn’t do jack. Already hate how easily this crazy woman can see through my lies.
“And you must be the jackass who punched my son in the face a few years ago?” Mrs. Kelley smiles. I freeze, trying to figure out how to handle this delicately, but the nut is on a roll. “Frankly, you did him some good. We’d gotten tired of him moping around, always so sour over his arm. I told the boy no woman would care about a little loose skin. That fight knocked some sense into him, I think. Sure enough, he buckled down and found Ginger not long after your little melee.”
I stare right through her. This isn’t the crazy I expected. Should also piss me off, learning I inadvertently helped the man I want dead, assuming she’s telling the truth. Too fucking bad I’m standing here in the cold, trapped in the most awkward four way stare down I’ve seen for years.
“You should really come in and warm up, dear,” Mrs. Kelley says, breaking the frigid silence. “It’s freezing out here.”
Red opens her mouth to protest, but her mother won’t hear it. She turns her back, flings the screen door open, and holds it for us.
“I’m so sorry,” Red whispers, nudging my side.
“For what? I can sit down and talk like a normal human being, you know. Come on.” She waits impatiently.
Invitation accepted. What’s the harm? Stepping inside, I set Mia down gently.
Her little nose twitches the second her feet are on the ground. “Daddy, is that…chocolate?!”
Red’s mother grins and gives a brisk nod, then starts walking. Honeybee runs after Mrs. Kelley, disappearing around the corner into the kitchen. My fists ball silently at my sides, wondering what the hell we’ll really find on the other side.
It’s shocking because it’s so normal. By the time Red and I join them, Mrs. Kelley is pouring a steaming mug of sweetness. She drops a couple fat marshmallows in the brew before reaching for a sippie lid for the cup.
Crazy or not, she’s still got her wits. I help Mia to the table and put her in the nearest chair, leaning down. “Drink it slowly, honeybee. You don’t want to burn your tongue.”
Leave it to my little genius to blow through the tiny opening, trying to cool her treat faster. At least it’s a nice distraction while Red gets her own cocoa. Mrs. Kelley gives me a knowing smile when she grabs a third empty cup, walks to another thermos on the counter, and pushes it open. “Black coffee. Just the way you like it?”
I nod. Fuck, am I really so cliché?
Doesn’t change the fact that the stuff feels like thermal heaven, sliding down my throat a second later. We sit, Red next to me. Her hand moves anxiously, unthinkingly into my lap. My reassuring squeeze could crush diamond.
“Glad you let me borrow your daughter,” I say, taking another pull off my coffee. “She’s been a godsend for business. Couldn’t get half the crap done without her.”
“She’s a grown woman. Much too old to waste her time chasing a mad woman.”
“Mom!” Red’s fingers pinch mine. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not like –“
“It’s exactly like that, Sarah. I’ve spent years at the end of my artistic rope, completely uninspired after that droll little series of birch trees I painted several winters ago. Why people in this town still ask for them every so often, no clue.” She shrugs. “They certainly weren’t buying.”
