Chapter 14
The motel checkout was at eleven. I counted my cash on the bedspread at ten thirty.
It wasn't much. Three hundred and forty dollars left from what I'd pulled before the gala, plus the twenty I'd found wadded in the suitcase lining. The desk clerk had slid a paper under my door at nine: checkout or pay for another night. My phone had two missed calls from Mark and one from my sister Lauren. Her voicemail was short. "Call me. You don't have to figure this out alone."
I called her back. My voice caught on the second ring.
"I have a key," she said. "Not a fix, just a place. Remember Mrs. Chen's building above the pharmacy on Main? Unit 2B. She moved to be near her son last week. It's small. One bedroom, but the bedroom has that little nook with a window. Big enough for a crib. She said she'd do month to month if I vouched for you."
I pressed my palm against my belly. The baby shifted. "I can't pay much."
"You don't have to pay a lot," she said. "First month and a deposit. I can cover the deposit if you need. But you need to see it first. Can you get there?"
The motel was a twenty minute walk. I left the clerk my key and pulled my duffel bag over my shoulder. The suitcase was still gone, still somewhere at the mansion, and I didn't miss its weight.
Lauren met me at the pharmacy entrance. She hugged me without commenting on my dress or my hair. She just held me for a second and then unlocked the side door that led up to the apartments.
The apartment smelled like fresh paint and old wood. The floors creaked. The kitchen was narrow with a gas stove and a window over the sink that looked out at the water tower. The bedroom was small, but Lauren was right about the nook. Sun came through the window and fell in a square on the floor. I stood in it and breathed.
"It's not the mansion," Lauren said quietly.
"I know," I said. "That's why I can breathe here."
Mrs. Chen came up with a single-page lease. Month to month, six hundred dollars, utilities included except electric. I read every line. My hand shook a little when I signed my name. I counted out the cash for the first month and the deposit Lauren had insisted on splitting with me. I folded the receipt and put it in my pocket. The key she gave me was silver and light and had a green plastic diamond on the head. I closed my fist around it.
My phone rang while I was still standing in that sun square. Mark.
Lauren looked at me. I answered.
"Where are you?" he asked. His voice was flat, tired.
"In town," I said.
He paused. "Evelyn had the guest wing cleaned. Your things are there. The bed's made. You don't have to do this. Come home and we can talk about this properly. No one needs to be in a motel or some apartment above a pharmacy."
It wasn't an apology. It was a relocation. Another room in the same house.
"No," I said. My throat was dry but my voice didn't waver. "I signed a lease. I have a place."
"Sofia, that's not a place for a baby."
"It's a place where I decide," I said. "I'm not coming back to the guest wing."
Lauren stepped closer, not touching me, just there.
Mark was quiet for a long time. I could hear the house behind him, that big quiet house with the chandelier and the marble.
"My mother said you'd be back by morning," he said finally. His voice dropped. "She said to let you go. She said you would come back."
I remembered Evelyn in the doorway, champagne in her hand, smiling. Let her go, she'll be back by morning. She'd said it like weather.
"It's not morning anymore," I said.
He didn't answer right away. I heard him exhale. "No," he said. "It's not."
For the first time he didn't have a next line. No instruction. No correction.
"I'm going to stay here tonight," I said. "Don't come by without calling."
He said okay. Just okay. The line went dead.
I stood in the empty bedroom with the key still in my fist. Lauren opened the window in the nook. Air moved through, cool and smelling like the pharmacy awning and distant fryer oil from the diner down the street. The baby kicked, hard, against my ribs.
May you like
Lauren smiled. "Want help moving the bag in?"
I nodded. I set my duffel down in the corner where the sun had been. It was the only thing in the room, and it was enough for now. I had an address. I had a key that was mine. I had a door I could lock.
