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I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Of course. I’ll see you then.”

I hung up and went to the closet. I lingered for a moment on the painting I had done the night before. I thought about pulling it out. Why was I hiding it?

Because I wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant.

I grabbed a T-shirt and an old pair of jean shorts before closing the door with a decisive click. I got dressed and pulled my hair up into a bun. I didn’t bother with makeup, I never really did. I was about as low maintenance as you could get when it came to getting ready. If it took more than five minutes, it was too much effort.

I headed down the stairs, looking for my mom. I found her in the kitchen, sat at the table, hunched over papers strewn across the surface. She was holding her head in her hands, her eyes closed.

“Mom?” I called out with concern. The lines on her face appeared deeper than before. She had dark circles beneath her eyes, a sign she wasn’t getting enough sleep. She had lost weight too. I was worried about her.

Mom opened her eyes, giving me a startled look. “What in the world are you doing up? I wasn’t expecting you to start moving before mid-day,” she teased, but I could hear the strain in her voice.

I walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her and resting my chin on the top of her head. “Skylar’s in town. She wants to meet for coffee.” I noticed that Mom started piling up the papers in front of her, flipping them over, clearly trying to hide them from me.

I picked up the one on top. It was an itemized bill from Southport General Hospital with the bright red words, Final Notice, written across the top. When I read the amount owed, I almost choked.

“What’s this?” I asked.

Mom snatched the paper from me. “None of your concern. Now tell me why Skylar’s in town? Doesn’t she live in the city now?”Mom wasn’t subtle. I knew she was trying to change the subject.

“Mom, what’s that bill for?”

Mom blew out a long breath. “It’s the bill from your father’s stay at the hospital.”

“But you guys have insurance. Why is it so much?”

Mom started straightening the papers before stuffing them back into a grey folder. “Because the insurance your dad had through work was awful. Three years ago, the town changed providers. Aside from the deductibles being astronomical, they refused to pay for most of your dad’s treatments, including the surgery because it was out of network.” She let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Can you believe that? Your father has a heart attack, needs emergency services, and the insurance company quibbles over the fact that the hospital and doctor weren’t in-network.”

“Can’t you appeal? This is awful!” I was at a loss. I knew Mom was having financial difficulties after Dad died, but I had no idea it was to the tune of $250,000.

“I have! It was the first thing I did. Didn’t matter. The insurance won’t pay. Now the hospital is coming after me threatening to send it to collections. I asked to be put on a payment plan, but the only one they’d consider, given the amount owed, was way more than I can afford. This is why I need to sell the house.”

I could never remember seeing my mom so stressed.

“How much are you hoping to sell the house for?” I was terrified for my mother. What was she supposed to do? She was sixty-two years old. She only had so many working years left in her. At this rate, she would have no nest egg, nothing to retire on.

Mom ran a hand through her greying curls. “The realtor that came around said I could get $350,000 for it. That’s enough to pay off the hospital bills and get a small studio apartment in town.”

“A studio apartment?” I tried not to sound as horrified as I was.

Mom’s expression shattered for the briefest of moments. “I’ll do what I have to do, Meggie. I don’t have many options here.”

“Why didn’t you say something to Whitney or me?” I hated the thought of Mom worrying herself sick and not letting her daughters know.

Mom put her hands over mine, leaning back into me. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. I didn’t want to worry you and your sister. I’ll figure something out. I always do. Don’t forget who’s the parent here.” She patted my arm. “Now go meet Skylar. Bring her by if she’s not busy. It’s been too long since I’ve seen that girl.”

“Mom, we need to talk about this. I’ll call Whitney; we can brainstorm—”

“Don’t you dare tell Whitney,” Mom said vehemently. She turned around in her chair to look up at me. “She’s doing so well in France. She needs to focus on herself and not worry about me.”

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