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Night Road(135)

Author:Kristin Hannah

“But you’ll stay with me, right, Daddy?”

“Of course, but she’s your mom, Gracie, and you need her, no matter what you think.”

*

“I screwed up, Scot,” Lexi said again. She was in his office, pacing back and forth in front of the window, chewing on her thumbnail.

“Lexi. Lexi.”

She stopped, faced him. “Did you say something?”

“Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

She went to his desk and stood there, looking down at Scot, who looked a little tired today. His hair was a mess and his tie was askew. “Are you okay?”

“Danny has colic. Jenny and I aren’t sleeping much. But I’m fine.”

Lexi reached down for the framed photograph on Scot’s desk. In it, a pudgy bald baby boy held a plastic key. It made her sad, seeing this baby, thinking of Grace, wondering if she’d had colic or if she’d slept through the night like an angel. “I don’t know anything about being a mom,” she said quietly, feeling defeated again.

“No one does at the start,” Scot said. “I kept looking for a manual with Danny, but all he came with was a blanket. And I’m pretty sure his grandma gave it to him. Sit down, Lexi.”

She collapsed more than anything, realizing all of a sudden how exhausted she was. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Scot handed her a newspaper. “It won’t do any good to dwell on your mistake. Now is the time for action, Lexi. We need to show the court, and the Farradays, that you’re here to stay and that you’re ready to parent Grace. The best way to do that is to find a job.”

“A job. Of course.”

“I’ve circled a few possibilities. I wish I had enough business to employ you here—”

“You’ve done enough. Thank you, Scot.”

“Jenny has a navy blue suit that she thought you might want to borrow. It’s hanging off the door in the conference room.”

Lexi was once again filled by gratitude to this man, and his wife. She got slowly to her feet. “Danny is a lucky kid. You know that, right?”

He looked up. “So is Grace.”

“I hope so,” Lexi said quietly, feeling a thin resurgence of hope. Saying good-bye to Scot, she went into the conference room and put on Jenny’s navy blue summer-weight suit. It didn’t look great with Lexi’s ice blue T-shirt and flip-flops, but it was the best she had.

In less than forty minutes, she was on her bike, heading to the local drugstore, which had advertised for a sales clerk. Full time, minimum wage.

Inside the bright store, with its array of colorful shelving, she paused and looked around. At the nearest cash register, a heavyset woman with a beehive-like gray pile of hair stood, talking on her cell phone.

Lexi went to the checkout line and stood there.

“You buying something, hon?” the woman said, lowering the phone just a little.

“I’m here for the job.”

“Oh.” The woman bent forward, pressed one scythelike red fingernail to the store intercom, and said, “Manager to register one, please.” Then she smiled at Lexi, straightened, and went back to her phone conversation.

“Thank you,” Lexi said, although the woman wasn’t listening.

Lexi saw the manager approach register one. He was a tall, thin man, very Ichabod Crane–y, with a nose like an eagle’s beak and spiny eyebrows that grew wild as blackberry bushes.

She moved toward him confidently, extended her hand. “Hello, sir. I’m Alexa Baill. I’ve come to apply for the clerk position.”

He shook her hand. “Follow me.”

She followed him back into a small, windowless office that was stacked high with cardboard boxes. He sat behind the metal desk and pointed to a stool in the corner.

She dragged the stool over to the desk and sat down, feeling a little conspicuous on the perch.

“Do you have a résumé?”

Lexi felt her cheeks heat up. “No. It’s a sales clerk job, right? In high school, I worked at Amoré, the ice cream shop. I’m good with money and even better with people. I’m a good employee, and I can work any shift. I could get you some recommendations.”

“When did you work at Amoré?”

“From 2002 to 2004. I … quit in June, after I graduated from high school.”

He wrote something down on a piece of paper that looked like an application. “And you’re home from college now? Is this a summer job for you?”

“No. I’m looking for full-time employment.”