“Thank you.”
Kitty and Adam climbed over a wooden gate at the rear of the truck and settled in among a mound of watermelons. When the truck lurched forward, Kitty patted Adam’s hand. “There, see, it’s better than walking, and the farmer and his wife were nice.”
“You told me never to ride with a stranger.”
“I told you never to get in a car with a stranger. I never said anything about riding with watermelons. Anyway, this is a special case.”
He leaned back on a large melon and lifted his face to the sun. “It’s not so bad, I guess. But I’d sure like to know how you’re going to get us out of this.”
“I’m thinking. I told you I’d come up with a plan, and I will. We’ll be back on the road to cousin Bette’s house before you know it.” Bette was Kitty’s one true refuge. Her mother’s cousin had been comforting and sympathetic when Kitty called her the day before.
“Of course I’ll help you, Katherine,” Bette had promised. “I’ll find out about the fashion-design institute for you and lend you enough money to enroll. You and Adam can stay here as long as you need to.”
“And if Daddy calls you,” Kitty had said, “please don’t tell him I contacted you.” Bette had vowed secrecy.
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Adam blurted out. “Going to some old lady’s house I don’t even remember? School just let out two days ago, and already it looks like this is going to be the worst summer I’ve ever had.”
“You’ll like Charlotte. They have museums and—”
“I hope I get my own room.”
Kitty pictured Adam’s bedroom in her father’s house and even allowed herself an image of her lavender suite at the mansion. No doubt it was tough giving all that up. “You will have a room,” she promised. “Just as soon as I can afford to leave Bette’s and rent a place. And once my business takes off, I’ll even replace some of the things you left at Grandpa’s.”
“Your business? You make it sound like we’re never going back to Florida.”
She hadn’t meant to scare him with that conclusion. “Of course we’ll go back. Sometime. But we’ll definitely be away long enough for me to go to the design institute.”
“You mean I might have to go to school in this Podunk state?”
“There’s nothing Podunk about Charlotte,” she said. “I’m sure there are very nice schools...if we need them.”
“You think you can really design clothes that people will buy?”
Kitty had wanted to make clothes since she was a child. In the back of the truck, she even had a few original patterns she’d developed herself and fabrics she’d hired a graphic artist to draw in a modernist style.
Adam seemed to be staring at her nape-length, spiky blond hair. He scrunched up his nose. “Remember, I’ve seen some of the stuff you’ve made. It’s kind of weird looking.”
“That’s why I’m going to school.” She was used to hearing criticism of her fashions from the males in her family, and she hoped they were wrong. Except for the purchase of her new Singer, she’d always been too complacent to take the plunge and pursue her dream seriously. Or maybe she’d been too lazy. Or scared. But in the past twenty-four hours, she’d taken quite a few plunges into the unknown, so what was one more?
Kitty clutched her stomach as a familiar stab of pain took her breath. The doctors told her it was anxiety. She’d suffered from phantom bellyaches off and on most of her life, but they’d gotten much worse after her mother died. And now she was banking her and Adam’s futures on her ability to succeed in a competitive business.
She kept telling herself that she had a plan, a good one. After a while, when Owen had calmed down, Kitty would call him and explain why she’d felt she had to leave, but right now he’d just have to be satisfied with the note she’d left telling him that she and Adam were taking a vacation. He wouldn’t believe it. And even if he did, he was probably already raising holy heck to find them. Thank goodness he’d never think to look in the back of a watermelon truck.
Adam had settled into a sort of temporary acceptance of their situation and was watching the passing scenery. She hoped he hadn’t picked up on her discomfort. She didn’t want him to bear any responsibility for what the immediate future held. This was her decision, and she’d made it at a crucial time in her son’s life. So she was the one who had to make it work.
The farm truck eased into a right turn off the highway and slowly crept along with the rest of the traffic entering the Value-Rite parking lot. It was eight-thirty on a Sunday morning, but already the lot was filling up, and people were heading toward the automatic doors.
The farmer drove to a large tent set up at one end of the asphalt where everything from corn on the cob to Georgia peaches was for sale. He chose a spot, and Kitty and Adam scrambled down.
“Thanks for the lift,” Kitty said as Adam headed toward the store. “I need to get my son some breakfast, but after that we’ll be glad to help you unload the melons.”
“No need for that,” the farmer’s wife said. “You don’t owe us for that ride.”
Kitty thanked the couple again and caught up with Adam. “Can I have a couple of bucks, Mom?” he asked. “I’ll bet they got doughnuts inside.”
“No doughnuts. That tent is full of fruit and healthy things. I’ll buy you a banana and a muffin and orange juice.”
He groaned his opinion of the breakfast menu. “At least let me go inside for a minute.”
She studied his expression, trying to determine his motive for wanting to enter the Value-Rite. “What for? I thought you were starving.”
“I am...or I was. But I have to use the bathroom.”
“Okay. And while you’re in there, find out where the pay phones are...so I can use one,” she added.
“You calling Grandpa?”
Kitty ignored the glimmer of hope in his eyes. “No, I’m calling Bette to tell her we’re going to be late.”
“Then use your cell phone.”
“I can’t. Every call from the cell is listed on the company bill and will alert Grandpa to anyone I contacted.”
“Then why did you bring the cell phone if you weren’t going to use it?”
“I would use it if there were an emergency.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “Mom, we have no car, no money and we’re stuck in Nowheresville. What the heck do you call an emergency anyway?”
He had a point, and she was almost ready to admit it when she saw the answer to their problems. “Look there,” she said, pointing to an ATM just to the right of the store entrance. “I can withdraw money from my account.” She walked toward the machine and took her bank card from her purse. Thankfully
