Chapter Two

Dale pulled her truck into a space next to the picnic pavilion of Sikesville’s park. The sounds of children squealing and laughing filtered through the trees that blocked the view of the playground. Dale gathered her bulging planner and her lunch cooler before she exited the car.

She brushed the top of the picnic table with her hand before she placed the book on the table. After opening the planner, she dug a sandwich out of the cooler, unwrapped it, and took a bite. What is wrong with me? I almost walked away from a job. She flipped through the bills tucked under the flap of the planner and sorted them by due dates and past due dates.

Dale grimaced. How did it get so bad? Because Molly. And I was stupid enough to believe her lies. Molly. Fuck. She shook her head to clear the memories of the woman who had cleared out all her money. The empty space Molly left in her bank account was nothing compared to the emptiness in Dale’s heart after Molly walked out. Fuck. Fuck me. Get it together. She stuffed the bills back into her planner and pulled out her notes from the morning’s estimate.

She sipped from her water thermos and listed the subcontractors she would need to do the job. Mai Li. Why is she here? Ghosts for twenty years and then suddenly reappears? Curiosity won over work and Dale thumbed on her phone. She typed Mai’s name into the search bar.

The first article that came up was a lurid photo of Mai engaged in a shouting match with another woman. The woman was tall and slender and gorgeous. The article was from last year and hidden behind a paywall. The next featured the same photo from a different angle and showed the woman’s placid face in contrast to Mai’s obvious fury. Dale clicked on it, frustrated as hell when it turned out to be clickbait leading to some ridiculous advertisement for erectile dysfunction drugs.

The next entry listed the canceling of Mai’s TV show, Chefs at Home. Dale scanned the brief article. Oh. That’s why she has the money to do this. And nowhere to be now. She finished her sandwich in two bites as she read. Scant on details, the news report hinted Mai and the woman, identified as Charlene Fromer, were more than cohosts and their public spats on and off set had led to the cancellation of the show.

Dale thumbed her phone off. What do I care? Because she’s hot as fuck. And she was kind even when I was a bitch. Was she out in high school? I sure didn’t know. She blew out a breath. Until it was too late. No, I got my boys out of it. Bill ditching me was the best thing ever happened to us. But damn Molly to hell. Why can’t I find a decent person to be with? As lousy at picking women as I was at picking men. Fuck me. She rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes.

The kind expression on Mai’s face when she asked Dale to stay and the way she had looked at her as she apologized rose up in Dale’s mind. Another image, the one of Mai’s thick shoulders and the way her pants had draped over her sculpted ass, stirred a flush. Dale sat up and pressed her water bottle to her face. Cold condensation trickled down her wrist. Mai Li. Hot as fuck and out of my league. Not like she’d be interested in a single mom with three kids anyway.

*

Mai climbed the steps up to the apartments over the restaurant. She kept away from the walls, unwilling to trash her shirt more than she already had. She pulled the wad of keys from her pocket and sorted through them, trying four before she found the right key to open the door. The room was as musty as the other apartment but underlying this one was the faint smell of tobacco. A reminder of the two-pack-a-day habit that had taken her grandfather as it had her father. The apartment was one room, the sole division a small alcove that had been turned into a bathroom and held only a sink and toilet. She turned away and entered her family’s apartment.

Memories rushed through her of evenings with her grandfather. Yeye would show up in his plaid flannel robe to shower. After his shower, wrapped in his bathrobe over his striped pajamas, skinny shins sticking out from the hem, he would chain-smoke as he sat with Mai and her sister Yvonne while they did their homework. Even fresh from his shower he always smelled of drugstore cologne, cigarettes, and whiskey.

Mai’s mother would bring them food from the restaurant for dinner. Grim faced, she would serve them as her grandfather chided her mother, always finding something to complain about each dish: too hot, too cold, too spicy. His litany of criticism was as much a backdrop to their meals as the hum of the refrigerator in their small kitchen. Mai’s mother never responded to him. Her silence as loud as a shout.

At bedtime, Yeye would read to Mai and Yvonne as he sat on a straight-back kitchen chair beside the double bed they shared. Mai closed her eyes as she remembered the gravelly sound of his voice as he read them stories of trickster foxes, snow princesses, and dragons. Mai placed her suitcase on the floor. She walked back to the bedroom, empty except for a stained and torn damp-swollen phonebook. The dank smell of rodent urine wafted from the room. She turned away and walked back to the living room.

In the living room her gut twisted as another memory surfaced. Memories of waking to the sound of loud voices, arguing, her grandfather with her father, about how families should live together. Mai stared out of the window at the yellow painted bricks of the building across the alley. A white plastic bag caught in the wind tumbled between the buildings. As a child she had wondered why her parents had put up the wall. Why couldn’t the family live together?

Her mother’s sister, Mai’s favorite aunt, had finally answered Mai’s questions one night over a bottle of dark rum. Her grandfather had disapproved of Mai’s mother’s mixed-race heritage. He had offered Mai’s mother a bribe not to marry his son. Mai chewed her lip, trying to reconcile her version of her doting grandfather with the racist image her aunt had painted.

“You’re finally going to get your wish, Yeye,” Mai said aloud and grimaced at the echo. She moved her suitcase to the middle of the room and placed her sleeping bag on top of it. She pulled her phone from her pocket and began her list of what she would need to clean the apartment.

*

Glossy brochures glared at Dale from the dining room table. Thomas, ever detail oriented and watchful of money, was bent over them, his head so close to Noah’s they almost touched. “It would be at least thirty-three a year without financial aid and that doesn’t include room and board.”

Noah chewed his lip and looked up at Dale. “Maybe I could get a scholarship? New York’s not that far, Mom.”

Dale sat back in her chair. “Fill out the paperwork. The worst they can say is no.” She reached across the table and touched the back of Noah’s hand. “I can’t promise anything, Noah, unless this job comes through. Even then, even with a scholarship, we may not be able to afford it.”

Noah pursed his lips and gathered up the brochures. “I know. It was an idea. They have some classes at the community college I can sign up for.”

Dale pushed her hair back with both hands. “If I get this job, I’m going to need all of you to help with it. The more we do, the more we make.”

Noah stood and tucked the brochures into his backpack. His phone beeped. “Gotta go. Chip’s on his way.” He snagged an apple out of the bowl on the counter before he charged out of the door.

Dale suppressed her sigh as she watched him go. The rain beat a steady drum on the roof and a rumble of thunder rattled the window. A river of rainwater gushed down the alley behind their house. Guilt, heavy and thick, settled over her, an unwelcome cloak of despair. She should have the money to send Noah to school. She would have had the money. She worked her ass off so her kids could have an easier life and then blew it all trusting the wrong person. She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. No use fretting. Let it go. She poured herself another cup of coffee before she sat at the table.

“Mom?” Thomas scooted his chair over to sit next to Dale. “I’ve got the numbers if you’re ready to plug them into the estimate.”

“What would I do without you, Thomas?” She ruffled her middle son’s hair.

“Pay a real bookkeeper a fuckton of money.” Thomas snorted and turned his laptop toward Dale.

“Language. I’m still your mother.” Dale quirked her mouth at him. “And you’re right.” She studied the quote on the laptop screen. “Looks good. Print it off for me.”

Thomas’s fingers flew over the keys and the ancient printer wheezed to life on its stand in the corner of the kitchen and startled Olivia, their equally ancient cat, from her nap. Disgruntled, she sat up and settled her baleful stare on them before she jumped to the floor and stalked off.

“Why not email it? Save you time.”

Dale rubbed the back of her neck. “I want to deliver this one in person. It’s a big number and I don’t want her to freak.”

Thomas settled back in his chair. “Is she going to flip the property? Start it up and then sell it? We might be able to shave some of the numbers if she does. We can go with lower end materials if she gets nervous.”

“Don’t know what she’s planning. She was pretty cagey about it. Do you have the figures for the bathroom remodel for the Haskins too?”

Thomas hit a few keys and pulled the estimate up. Dale scanned it. “Looks good. Send it.”

“Not worried about Mrs. Haskins freaking?” Thomas raised his eyebrow.

“Nah, she’s got enough money to wipe her ass with it.”

“Mom! Language.” Thomas laughed.

Dale stood up and stretched before she plucked the freshly printed pages from the printer. “Did you see Granddad yesterday?”

“Nope. I think he’s spending a lot of time over at Ms. Zettler’s house.” Thomas waggled his eyebrows at his mom. “Lots of time.”

Dale rolled her eyes. “Never you mind about your granddad.” Dale placed the estimate into her planner. “Do you have something to wear for your aunt’s wedding? Noah is sorted. At least it’s an outdoor wedding.”

Thomas sat back in the chair. “I’m good. Are you?”

Dale tilted her head. “As good as I’m going to be.” She grimaced.

“We don’t have to go.” Thomas met Dale’s gaze.

Dale snorted. “We do. I do. Even if I think it’s the second stupidest thing your aunt has ever done. At least she divorced George before he spent them into bankruptcy.”

Thomas rested his hand on his hips. “Free food and booze. I’ll even drive. You can have as much wine as you want.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m still the mom.”

“You are. And I’m not a kid. And not everyone is a con artist. Jeff is a good guy. You need to give him a chance.”

Dale swept her hand though her hair. “Why? He doesn’t even have a job. He’s a bum. He’s always been a bum.”

“He’s got a job lined up. He’s kind to Aunt Ida. People change, Mom.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Dale swigged the last of her coffee gone cold while they talked.

*

Mai scrubbed the black-and-white honeycomb floor tiles. Her knees ached. She rinsed the scrub brush and the scent of the ammonia water rose up, comforting her. From twelve on, after Mai’s Yeye had died, she and her sister sat in the corner booth every night the restaurant was open. They did their homework in between busing tables and ferrying orders out to tables. The ritual of cleaning the floors of the kitchen after closing was as much a part of her as breathing.

A fat raindrop splattered the floor followed by a dozen more before Mai could rise to her feet and slam the window shut. The thick glass rattled in the frame as the rain beat against it. Mai finished scrubbing the last bit of tile and dumped the water down the bathtub drain. She turned on the tap and rinsed the bucket after letting the rust-colored water clear. She had taken a chance and had the water turned on to the building. She had quickly discovered Dale had been right in her assessment and the pipes under the sink had leaked. Mai had closed off the water in the kitchen. At least the bathroom pipes seemed sound and the toilet, after hours of cleaning, was functional and not too dismal.

She turned the bucket upside down to drain and grimaced at the rust stains and chips in the huge tub. Her phone vibrated, and she dried her hands on her shirt and pulled it from her pocket. A bright-orange weather alert banner scrolled across the screen.

Rain drummed on the roof and the unmistakable sound of running water filled her ears. Mai bolted from the bathroom while shoving her phone into her pants. Water streamed from the ceiling in three places where the plaster ballooned out. Mai dodged the water and bent over to snatch her sleeping bag off the floor.

A large chunk of plaster crashed to the floor and dirty water poured after it. She tossed her shoes into her suitcase, yanked the zipper of her suitcase closed, and ran for the stairs. Water dripped over the steps and soaked into Mai’s clothes as she navigated the dark stairwell.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mai patted her pockets for her keys. A crack of thunder shook the building. No keys. Mai cursed. She tossed her sleeping bag and suitcase to the floor and took the stairs two at a time. She skidded to a stop at the doorway. Most of the ceiling lay in large chunks on the floor and through the now open ceiling, she could see dark dangerous clouds. A flash of lightning lit the room.

Mai dashed across the floor, scooped her keys up off the countertop, and fled. Her wet feet slipped on the steps and she fell the last four steps and landed on her sleeping bag and suitcase. The handle of her bag dug into her ribs and she dropped her keys. Biting back her scream, she scrambled to her feet. She moved her now sopping wet sleeping bag as she searched for her keys with trembling hands.

Another crash of thunder rattled the building. Mai scrabbled with her hands and came up empty. She sat back on her heels, her breathing harsh in the closed space of the landing. A steady flow of water down the steps wet her jeans and reminded her she couldn’t stay where she was. The yellow glint of the happy face emoji on her key ring shone on the dark floor. The keys were lying on the floor of the kitchen. Mai snatched her bag off the landing, stopped long enough to scoop her keys off the floor, and ran for the back door.

Sharp stones dug into her bare feet as she dashed toward her car while pushing the unlock button. Mai yanked the door open, tossed her suitcase into the passenger seat, and clambered into the car. Wet and shivering, she jammed the key into the ignition and started the car.

Cool air blasted her from the vents, and she turned the temperature control to heat. The air in the car became warm and the windows fogged. Mai pulled her phone from her damp pocket and prayed the case had kept it dry. She thumbed on the screen and opened the weather app. Dark bands of red filled the radar screen.

Gravel pelted her door and bounced off the window as a gust of wind rocked the car. Sheets of rain made it impossible to see across the parking lot. Mai opened her bag, grateful when she touched dry clothes. She stripped off her T-shirt and tossed it onto the floorboard.

Shivering, she tugged a clean dry shirt over her head. Navigating the steering wheel while she grappled with her wet jeans and underwear had her sweating and cursing. Her jeans and briefs joined the shirt on the car mat. With more wiggling she managed to pull on a pair of soft sweatpants.

Mai leaned her head on the steering wheel. The car warmed and Mai stopped shivering. She eyed the gas gauge and turned the car off, cursing herself for letting it get low. She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes and pulled the lever and lowered the seat back.

She stretched out and pulled her coat from the back seat and pulled it over her. Unwilling to risk driving in the storm, she closed her eyes and let the sound of the rain pounding on the roof lull her to sleep.