Embarrassment was nothing compared to what she’d feel when he was done with her.
Rotating lights seen from a couple blocks away let him know the aid car had beaten him here. He was able to park right behind it. The two medics, carrying equipment and with a rolling gurney, were talking to the doorman, who from the sound of it didn’t like taking responsibility for letting them into a condo without authorization from someone higher up in management. The doorman’s relief was obvious when he recognized Nate, who joined the group and said, “I’m the one who called. I have a key.”
A key he’d pried from a reluctant Sonja shortly after she purchased this condo. She’d finally conceded Molly might need him sometime. Like tonight, he thought grimly.
They rode the elevator up to her floor. The minute he opened the door, he saw Sonja sprawled, unmoving, on the shaggy white rug by the sofa, a cascade of flame-red curls covering her face. Leaving his ex-wife to the EMTs, he called, “Molly?”
Hair straggling from her braid, Molly appeared in the hall. Wearing only a nightgown, she was so pale that her freckles stood out. “Daddy?”
He crouched. With a sob, she flung herself at him. His own eyes stung as she cried, her body shaking.
Damn Sonja, he thought viciously. How could she do this to her child?
Molly wiped her wet face on his shoulder and pulled back enough to whisper, “Is Mommy dead?”
“I don’t think so.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the paramedics working over Sonja. “Tell you what, why don’t you go get dressed and pack a bag. You’re going home with me. I’ll see how your mom is doing. Okay?”
She nodded, sniffled and retreated.
Nate returned to the living room just as the EMTs shifted Sonja onto the gurney.
“How is she?” he asked.
The woman glanced at him. “Still unconscious. Given the, er, odor, we took the liberty of checking the trash beneath the kitchen sink. It’s half-full with hard-liquor bottles. She dropped a glass—” she nodded toward a side table “—that seems to have held gin.”
He’d smelled it the minute he walked through the door. Sonja had loved martinis. Apparently, she’d quit bothering to add vermouth or an olive.
“As you can see, she vomited. It was lucky she was lying on her side. She could have choked on it.”
The man said, “Her breathing is irregular and slow, and she’s hypothermic. We need to take her in. She’ll likely be kept under observation overnight.” Expression sympathetic, he added, “You may want to tell your daughter she might have saved her mother’s life by calling you.”
“Thanks.” Nate looked at his unconscious ex-wife and shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”
Having a drinking problem was one thing, but boozing herself into a stupor when she was all Molly had? Had it ever occurred to her that she was scaring the shit out of her young daughter?
After watching the pair wheel Sonja out, Nate took the time to clean up the puke. Then he turned out lights, scooped Molly up and pulled her small suitcase with his free hand. He was past ready to take her home.
* * *
ANNA SAT AT the kitchen table, feeling numb. It was done. The house had finally sold—but for a price that would have left her still owing money on it if Alan hadn’t told her, firmly, that he had reduced his commission by one percent. According to his calculations, that would allow her to pay off the mortgage in full.
She had wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t need to do that, but instead had said shakily, “Thank you. You’ve worked so hard to sell my house, it’s not fair.”
“I’m glad to do it,” he’d said kindly, before gathering up his papers and departing.
Since the couple had been preapproved for a loan, Alan didn’t foresee any problems.
Alone now, Anna couldn’t even feel relief. Now she had to face all her other problems.
This past week, she had spent hours on the internet, applying for positions as a paraeducator, or teacher’s aide, at school districts in eastern Washington, Oregon and Idaho. Unfortunately, so far they all had a full roster, as she’d feared. A month into the school year had to be the worst time to apply. She’d had several responses, however, expressing interest in using her part-time or as a fill-in, and possibly as a substitute teacher, too.
She’d be rolling the dice when she chose where to go. The work could be steady—or not. There’d be no benefits. But she’d concluded this was her best route back to teaching. It would give her experience and references; with luck, she’d be liked enough to be hired as a teacher next fall in the same district. Somehow, she’d pick up other part-time work to put food on the table.
Possibilities so far included Moses Lake in eastern Washington, La Grande in eastern Oregon or Idaho Falls, Idaho. Idaho Falls sounded touristy enough to push rents up too high for her.
She didn’t have to decide today. Soon, though. And maybe she’d get more responses this week. This was only Monday. If she was lucky, one of those many school districts she had contacted would have a full-time aide quit unexpectedly.
She really ought to go over to Mrs. Schaub’s and fetch Jenna. Josh, of course, was in school. More than Jenna, he didn’t want to move, and she couldn’t blame him. If she could stay... But it was impossible. Rent anywhere on the Eastside would be far beyond her means, even if she found a similar patchwork of jobs here. She had faith he’d adjust. Josh had always been good at making friends.
Her phone rang, and she recognized the number immediately. The man just would not give up.
This time, she answered. “Mr. Kendrick, I’ve asked you to leave me alone.”
“Please. Will you listen to me?”
Surprised at what might have been a note of desperation in his voice, she sighed. “Yes, if it doesn’t take long. I need to get back to packing.”
Well, start packing, but he didn’t have to know that.
“You sold your house?”
“At last.” Her effort to sound pleased fell flat to her ears.
“The timing might be good.” Was he talking to himself?
“Mr. Kendrick?”
“I’m sorry. I, ah, have something of a problem.” He hesitated. “I’ll ask you not to repeat what I’m going to tell you.”
Was this a subterfuge on his part to get his way? She was curious enough, though, to say, “I promise.” Not like she’d be here to gossip even if she wanted to.
“My ex-wife has become an alcoholic,” he said bluntly. “I’ve been worried, but she seemed to drink primarily in the evening and didn’t go out. Saturday night, though, Molly called me because she couldn’t wake her mother up.”
Anna exclaimed, “Oh, poor Molly!”
“She
