Tammy manned the vacuum, earplugs in, her phone radio cranked high. She tried to focus on the lyrics, and not her mom’s watchful eye. Both parents hovered.
She should be grateful. They loved her, would do anything for her. If only they could help from a distance. Like a four-hundred-mile distance.
Keeping the vacuum running, she cast Mom a sideways glance and switched to the hose attachment. Now seemed like the perfect time to suck up the dirt along the edge of the carpet. In fact, a thorough spring cleaning was in order. Anything to delay the inevitable.
Her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her back pocket and gave the screen a cursory glance. Yet another unrecognized number. Someone else jumping on the save-Tammy bandwagon?
She hit ignore, counted to three, and glanced at Mom. Yep, her phone chimed. Apparently, the caller phoned her next. That would keep her occupied for a while.
Tammy flipped off the vacuum and tiptoed to her room, leaving the door ajar. Closed doors, apparently, were seen as open invitations. She grabbed Nick’s business card off her dresser. How was he doing? Maybe she and the kids should stop by his restaurant for dinner. Except Mom and Dad would want to come, which would create a whole mess of problems. They hated Nick. Always had. Hated any male who’d showed the slightest interest in her—including Brody.
They’d been right about him.
No. That wasn’t true. The problem hadn’t been entirely Brody—except his infidelity. That one had been all him. But Tammy couldn’t deny that their marriage had been in trouble long before she’d lost Brody’s heart. Maybe if they’d gotten help, learned how to communicate rather than fight, things would’ve turned out differently. But there was nothing Tammy could do about that now.
Averting her thoughts, she pulled up Nick’s number up on her phone, an odd fluttering filled her stomach. Sucking in a calming breath, she dialed.
“Hello?” His voice sounded flat.
“Hi. How are you doing?” Stupid question.
“Surviving.” He paused. “Any more news on the recipients?”
“Not yet. But I’ll let you know when I have any.”
“Okay?”
Translation: Why are you calling?
She shouldn’t have. Except the man needed a friend. Which was all this was about. Her reaching out to an old friend in need, nothing more. In fact, it’d be callus not to.
“I was thinking maybe . . .” She glanced at her bedside clock and stifled a sigh. Brilliant idea. Not so brilliant timing. The kids would be home any minute. But she was off tomorrow. “I . . . Are you . . . ? You want to meet for coffee?”
Gut-twisting silence ensued, and she immediately regretted her offer. Once again, she thought back to their near-kiss, followed by heartbreaking nada. She’d been a fool then, and she was acting like a fool now.
“Honestly?”
Tammy braced herself for the rejection. The knots in her stomach increased as the silence stretched on.
“I’ve got a lot of inventories to go through.” Papers rustled in the background. “You’re welcome to head here, to my restaurant.”
Was she putting him out or offering much needed support? Everyone grieved differently. But isolation wouldn’t help. She needed to go, even if only for a moment. “Yeah, sure. That sounds great. What time? I can meet you at the restaurant at eight thirty. If that works for you, I mean.”
He paused again, reigniting Tammy’s nerves. She felt like she was back in high school, except back then, Nick had been the one person who hadn’t caused her stress. The one person she could be real around.
Obviously, things had changed.
“Eight thirty’s fine.” His tone carried no emotion, which probably meant he responded out of obligation.
The bus engine hummed outside the window, followed by the faint swoosh of airbrakes, providing the perfect end to an awkward conversation. “Listen, I gotta go.”
She hung up and stared at her phone screen. After all these years, could it be she still loved him?
How could they be friends if her heart longed for more?
Shoving her thoughts and the conflicting emotions aside, she dashed out. Mom had already made it to the porch. Dad, sweaty and covered in grass clippings, left the lawnmower in the center of the yard. He joined Mom on the sidewalk. Tylan beamed, looking from one grandparent to the next.
“Hey, little man.” Tammy met Tylan with a hug, resting her chin on the top of his sweaty head. “How was your day?”
Tylan shrugged. “Okay,” then eased out of her embrace. Grin widening, he turned back to his grandparents. “Wanna see what I made at school today?” He pulled papers and art projects from his backpack.
“Oh, my!” Taking his brightly painted sheet of paper, Tammy’s mom widened her eyes and pressed a hand over her mouth. “Look at this, Wilbert. Did you know your grandson was so talented?”
Dad grabbed Tylan in a headlock and ruffled his hair. “Of course. I always said the boy was a genius.”
By now, Becky had arrived and soon joined in the chatter, going well beyond her normal one-to-three-word responses.
Watching the sweet interaction, Tammy smiled, her heart warming. Despite their hovering, nagging, and brochure flinging, it was good Mom and Dad were here.
On a short-term basis, of course.
She moved aside to allow the chattering pack inside. Trailing them into the kitchen, she caught the end of their conversation.
“Jenna’s bringing caterpillar cupcakes.” Tylan dropped his backpack on the floor and climbed into a chair at the table.
Becky sat across from him, chin propped in her hands. Tammy’s mom dished cookies onto plates while her dad found a spot between both kids, hungry eyes locked on his wife. He paused salivating over the cookies long enough to toss out a few jokes, all insect-related.
“Wait until you see what we’re bringing.” With a wink to Tylan, Mom set four filled plates on the table.
Tammy lifted an eyebrow. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Mom’s eyes sparkled. “The room coordinator called this morning, said they were short on volunteers. I signed up to help with Tylan’s end-of-school party.”
Tammy blinked. That was three weeks away. Surely they weren’t planning on staying that long.
Mom smiled. “You’re going to join me, right? It’ll be fun.”
Tammy rubbed her forehead, reminding herself of Mom’s good intentions, of how much Becky and Tylan enjoyed having them here, of how much she needed them here—for childcare purposes.
Ouch. That was pretty selfish.
She mustered up enough self-control to offer a smile. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”
“You know,” Dad spoke over a mouthful of cookie, crumbs tumbling from his mouth. “If you got a job at the Dover library, the schedule would be much more flexible. Then you wouldn’t have to miss any of the kids’ important events.”
“Don’t.” Tammy raised her hand. Her mouth quivered, ready to release angry words swallowed down for much too long, when the doorbell rang. Shaking her head, she exited the kitchen and crossed to the front door.
She opened it to find a man standing before her. He wore a long-sleeved, collared shirt and held a leather briefcase. He extended his hand. “I’m Mr. Leroy with Residential Solutions. Are you Tammy Kuhn?”
Tammy gaped at him. She glanced behind him to his car, parked along her curb, then back to him.
Footsteps approached from behind, Dad’s hairy arm protruding through her peripheral vision.
He and the man shook hands. “Mr. Leroy, thanks for coming.”
Tammy fisted her hands, then slowly released them. She would not lose it in front of a stranger. She faced her father. “What’s this about, Dad?”
“Remember that game plan we talked about?” He grabbed hold of Tammy’s shoulders and stepped aside, pulling her with him. “Come in, Mr. Leroy.”
Mom closed in with a cheeky smile. “Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea? Soda?”
“I’m fine, but thank you.” The realtor followed Mom and Dad to the couch and set his portfolio on the coffee table. All three looked at her, eyebrows raised.
Mom patted the recliner beside her. “Sit, dear.”
Tammy stared. Had she stumbled into some weird parental reality show? Smile, you’re on Freaky Parents.
Mom pressed her knees together and faced Mr. Leroy. “You’ll have to excuse my daughter.” She cupped a hand around her mouth as if relaying a sordid secret. “She’s under a great deal of stress.”
Tammy stepped back to give herself space, only to run into the wall. Shaking her head, she pressed her fingertips to her temples.
Hold it together.
“Sweetie, are you all right?” Mom zeroed in, encircling Tammy’s waist. Suffocating her. Mr. Leroy stood, wide-eyed, looking from one person to the next.
Tammy threw up her arms, pushing Mom away. “Excuse me.”
She started to leave but Mom grabbed her hand. “Relax, dear. Take a few moments. We can do this whenever you’re ready.”
Tammy pulled away.
“What she needs is a game plan.” Dad turned to Mr. Leroy. “Why don’t you tell us about your services? How do you market your listings?”
Mr. Leroy stared at Tammy, mouth slack. “I . . . uh . . .”
Dad’s phone rang. “Hello? Yes, thank you for calling back . . . It’s a two-story, four bedroom, three bath, located in the sought after neighborhood of . . .”
Tammy gaped at him. “What are you doing?”
He shushed her. “Tomorrow? I’ll ask her. Better yet, how about you talk to her yourself?” He handed over the phone, then glanced at Mr. Leroy. “No offense, but we thought it’d be best to interview a few realtors.”
Tammy brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon. This is Patrick Riggleman from Millennial Realty. When would be—?”
She hung up and dropped the phone onto the coffee table.
Dad grabbed it and stared at the receiver as if it held the secrets to unlocking a woman’s brain. Secrets he could learn easily enough if he would only listen. But of course he wouldn’t. He was too busy trying to fix everything. Only there wasn’t a solution. Not this time, and Tammy wasn’t a stupid kid they could surround and protect anymore.
Mom rushed to her side. “Honey, be rational about this. Let’s discuss your options. Then you can make an informed decision.” She nudged her toward the couch.
Tammy locked her knees. “Leave me be, please.”
“It was good meeting you.” Mr. Leroy pulled out a business card, extending it to Tammy. When she made no move to receive it, he returned it to his pocket. He raised a hand. “Ma’am,” he dipped his head, “sir,” and dashed out.
The parental barricade returned, Dad’s coffee breath flooding her face as they loomed close. They started talking, their words merging together in a jumble of advice until Tammy’s head pounded.
“Leave! Now!” She broke away from their stranglehold and widened the distance between them. Blood pulsated in her eardrums, drowning out all cohesive thought. Standing in the center of the room, she pointed a trembling finger to the door. “Just leave.”
“But we’re only—”
“Go.” Tammy closed her eyes, fighting tears. “Please.”