nodded. “I’ll have the money before you close your office this afternoon.”
JOSH ABERNATHY STOOD AT the entrance to Tall Pines Trailer Park and waited for the school bus. On the other side of the pockmarked road, three teenagers smoked cigarettes and watched him. Two of them were his age; one was older. He knew the older guy’s reputation and decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Every now and then one of the younger kids would make a wisecrack, and the other would burst into laughter. Josh didn’t have to be psychic to know they were talking about him. People had been making fun of him all his life. The preacher’s kid, they called him, as if he didn’t have a name of his own. Goody Two-shoes. Fatso.
He didn’t belong, and he never had. Not with the kids who wore faded jeans with holes in the knees, and certainly not with the jocks, who ragged him in the shower because he’d put on weight over the past couple of years. He’d stopped showering, only to be made fun of in sixth period for being sweaty, so then he’d stopped participating in gym class at all. Instead, he sat on the bleachers and flunked the class each semester.
His mother claimed he wasn’t fat, said he was just a big kid, but he knew he outweighed kids his own age by a good twenty-five or thirty pounds. When he wore thin T-shirts he could see the roll in his stomach, which was why he’d started wearing black, short-sleeve sweatshirts. His parents said he looked as if he was in mourning, but he didn’t care. Actually, he felt as though someone or something had died. He’d had that feeling for a long time now, although he couldn’t say exactly when it had begun. Probably it had started a couple of years back, when his parents had stopped talking.
Josh heard the boys snicker, but he refused to look their way. Where was the bus, anyway?
“Hey, lard-ass, you want a drag of this here cigarette?” one boy asked.
The older guy remained detached, as though his thoughts were elsewhere.
Josh ignored them. He no longer cared what people thought. When he was younger he’d go off by himself and cry. Now he just shrugged it off. He wished he’d stayed in bed. He wished he was invisible.
He was invisible as far as his dad was concerned. All the man could think of was his new girlfriend. Josh wondered if his dad had lost it. One minute he was this respected minister bent on saving the world, next thing Josh knew he was banging some waitress and selling used cars at the Ford dealership.
“You know, smoking speeds up your metabolism,” the other kid said. “Might get rid of some of that blubber.”
“Would you two shut the hell up?” the oldest kid snapped. “I’ve got a headache, and I’m sick of listening to you. Besides, he ain’t messing with nobody.”
Josh saw the bus in the distance. He hated school. Sleep was really the only thing he liked these days. As long as he was asleep he didn’t have to think about how screwed up his life had become.
Sleep made him feel invisible.
SAM BREWER SHOOK HIS head sadly as he and one of his crew took a tour of Blessing Home. “It would be easier to tear this place down and start from scratch,” the man said.
Sam nodded. “I don’t know how they managed to pass inspection all these years. The wiring is so old it’s a wonder the place hasn’t burned to the ground. And the plumbing is prehistoric.” He shook his head. “God only knows what’s holding up the roof. The house is not structurally sound.”
The other man scratched his jaw. “Needs a lot of work, that’s for sure. No telling how much it’d cost.”
Sam sighed. He had so many jobs going on he had no idea where he’d find the time. He should never have offered to look at the place and get Marilee’s hopes up, because Blessing Home looked like a lost cause, as far as he was concerned.
The last thing he needed was something else to worry about.
RUBY, CLARA AND WINNIE WERE waiting for Marilee when she arrived home. A large pizza sat on the kitchen table, and Winnie was putting out napkins and paper plates. “Congratulations on the new job, honey,” Ruby said, hugging Marilee.
Marilee looked surprised. “How’d you know I was hired?”
“News travels quickly in this town,” Clara said.
“That’s for sure,” Winnie muttered. “Can’t take a leak in this town without everybody knowing about it.” She eyed Marilee and propped her hands on her hips. “You look upset.”
Marilee sighed. “I just left my attorney’s office. I had to hand over six thousand dollars.”
“For a simple divorce?” Ruby shrieked. “Hell’s bells, I got one of those ninety-nine-dollar divorces. You see them all the time in the newspaper.”
Marilee explained why she’d paid so much. “I had to do it. For Josh.”
“Is anyone going to have some of this pizza?” Winnie asked. “I’m starving. I have to think of the baby, you know.” She offered the box, and the women took a slice.
“Josh’ll come around, honey,” Ruby said. “He’s just angry right now, and what child wouldn’t be. Divorce is hard on kids.”
Clara pursed her lips. “But six thousand dollars! That’s highway robbery, if you ask me. Did you wipe out your entire savings account?”
Marilee shook her head. “There’s still some left, but I withdrew it and moved it to my checking account so Grady can’t get to it. I have the money my parents left, but I’m determined not to touch it. That’s for Josh’s education.” She shrugged. “I’m going to have to find a night job, at least until Josh moves in, so I can try to replace the money in case of an emergency.”
“Who’s going clean this place and cook while you work day and night?” Winnie demanded. “I hope you don’t expect me to take care of everything. This is stressing me out. That’s why I hate getting involved with people who have more problems than me.”
“I picked up a newspaper after I left Tate’s office,” Marilee said, ignoring Winnie’s remark. “I just scanned it, but I think I may have found something I can do in the evenings.”
“What’d you find, honey?” Ruby asked.
“They need someone to play the piano at the Pickford Inn.”
“What?” Clara cried. “You’re not going to work in a nightclub? Oh, Marilee, you can’t be serious.”
“It’s a supper club,” Ruby said. “Very upscale.”
Clara pursed her lips. “You may call it what you like, but they still serve alcohol.”
“One drink before dinner never hurt anyone,” Ruby said.
Clara looked at her. “This coming from a woman who has a distillery under the front seat of her truck.” She gave a harrumph. “Marilee, you simply cannot do this. What are folks going to say when they find out you’re playing piano in a bar? You know they’ll go straight to Grady, and he’ll do anything he can to make you look bad in front of that child advocate. This could definitely work against you.”
Marilee shoved her plate aside. She
