I grin. “It still sounds like you were impressed.”
He waves me away, but there’s a ghost of a smile pulling at the side of his mouth. “You’re a pain in the ass. Go create your expensive fucking program we don’t need.”
“I’m eager to do so.”
His not-really-a-smile fades. “Lucie, this doesn’t change anything. We’ve got stuff going on with the company that I can’t discuss, but…we need to be as streamlined as possible. So no matter how much the board loves your dumb little walking program, in three months, you’re going to need a new job.”
Except forty-eight hours ago, he was telling me I only had two weeks. Now I potentially have months.
Three months is enough time to change my entire life.
I’M up late again Wednesday night, working on the web page for the walking program. As a kid it kind of stunk to sit next to Ruth all summer, completing whatever busywork she’d tasked me with—especially once I was old enough to realize how my half-siblings were spending their summers, which focused heavily on European vacations and less on ‘You have to stay inside so no one suspects you’re Robert Underwood’s illegitimate child.’ But she also spent those summers equipping me to become more than my mother was, and it was because of them that I now know HTML and how to write a grant proposal. It’s because of them that I’m even willing to hope I can pull this whole thing off.
I’m yawning on only two hours’ sleep again Thursday as Molly walks me through the software over the phone. She reminds me that sleep deprivation is negatively correlated with longevity, and that, on the whole, poisoning Jeremy would be a healthier solution. She then mentions that prisons in Norway are like spas, though I’m not sure how that’s relevant to my situation. I think she just really wants Jeremy poisoned.
I’m so tired I’m almost numb as I shepherd the twins through the grocery store after school. I barely have the energy to get down the aisles, much less stop them from pulling food off the shelves. When Henry accidentally knocks over a display of gift cards, it takes all my self-control not to burst into tears.
Feigning calm with blood rushing to my face, I kneel on the ground and start picking up the gift cards while Sophie opens a bag of chips I hadn’t planned to buy.
“Ma’am, your children can’t block the aisle,” says an employee. “And you’re going to have to pay for the chips.”
My mother wouldn’t take this shit. She’d look him dead in the eye as she dropped all the gift cards she’d gathered to the floor. She’d take that bag of chips Sophie’s opened, dump them out and say, “Oops, looks like you’ve got some cleaning to do.”
I died a million deaths as a kid watching her tell people off, but right now…I get it. Guys like this want someone they can squash easily, someone too weak to fight back, and I very much would like to show him he chose the wrong girl.
After a lifetime of trying to be different from my mother, am I about to become just like her the minute I face some adversity?
“Come on, guys,” I say, setting the gift cards on the shelf beside me and heading toward the checkout though we only made it through half the store.
The cashier rings us up while Sophie attempts to sound out the caption on a tabloid. I regret teaching her phonics. “In…cuh. In…cuh…sss. Mommy, what’s that word?”
The caption reads Incest! Shocking Details About America’s Favorite TV Dad!
“Ma’am, your credit card was declined,” says the cashier.
I blink. It’s got to be a mistake, but there’s a line of irritated shoppers behind me and it’s faster to use another card than argue.
The second card doesn’t work either, though, and a slow, certain dread begins to spin in my stomach. “I’ll just use my debit card.”
I insert it with heat climbing up my neck while the guy behind me starts groaning in frustration at how long I’m taking.
“It says you have insufficient funds,” she announces.
The three grand is gone. Somehow, Jeremy managed to empty a checking account he wasn’t even on, which means we have almost nothing—a tiny bit of cash back at the house and not a penny more until I get my first paycheck.
The only surprising thing about this entire situation is my failure to anticipate it.
My mother…she’d have anticipated it.
6
CALEB
Lucie enters the conference room Friday morning in a sleeveless, fitted green silk dress, red lips, her dark hair slicked back in a high ponytail.