Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(43)

“It’s not my house,” Max said angrily, “so why should I pay to fix something?” Although he’d taken just a few bites of the food on his plate, Max stood and left the table.

He wasn’t paying rent, he reasoned, so why should he be expected to pay for repairs? That thought was one of many Max stored up. Added together they gave him justification for revenge.

~

After dinner Caroline cleared the table. She washed and dried the dishes, then stacked them in the cupboard before she carried the laundry baskets to the driveway. With a two-year-old copy of Ladies Home Journal tucked in her purse and three loads of wet sheets in the trunk of her car, she started for Mackinaw.

~

Max left the house moments after Caroline.





Max Sweetwater





It irks me that everybody treats Caroline like she’s something special. She’s not. She’s a conniving scam artist. A nobody.

I’d bet my bottom dollar she ain’t one ounce related to James or anybody else in the Sweetwater family. She probably saw his name somewhere and cooked up this bullshit story about being his daughter. I knew James, and I can say for sure he wasn’t one for settling down, never mind having kids.

Miss Caroline might have pulled the wool over poor old Ida’s eyes, but she’s sure as hell not pulling it over mine!

I ain’t your run-of-the-mill dumb patsy; I know what she’s up to. I met her kind before. She figures to run me off, then sell the place and walk away with a pocketful of money. Well, it ain’t gonna happen.

This house is rightfully mine, and come hell or high water I’m gonna get it. Watch and see.

Nobody screws Max Sweetwater and gets away with it.





The Danger of Drying





It was after ten when Caroline pulled up in front of the You Wash Laundromat. A neon green “Open 24 Hours” sign lit the front window, and beyond it was what appeared to be an empty room. Caroline gave a sigh of relief. With a row of empty dryers, she could do all three loads at one time and be out of there within the hour.

One by one she carried the baskets in and set each one in front of a dryer. The basket of wet laundry claimed ownership of the machine if someone else happened by, although at this time of night such a thing was unlikely. Caroline loaded all three dryers, slid her quarters in, and watched the sheets start tumbling. She looked around for a comfortable chair, but there was none. The only place to sit was a long wooden bench running the width of the back wall.

Pulling the magazine from her purse Caroline started toward the back, flipping through the pages as she walked. She believed herself alone until from the corner of her eye she saw something move and gasped.

“Good grief! You startled me!”

On the dark end of the bench sat a woman with a young girl sleeping in her lap. “Sorry,” the woman said.

She was young, in her twenties maybe, but bone thin. Even though the overhead light in that area was dark and the woman kept her face lowered, the large purple bruise was obvious. “Are you all right?” Caroline asked.

“Unh-huh.” The woman nodded.

Caroline eyed the bruise again. “You ought to put ice on that.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t.” Caroline set the magazine aside, stood, and walked toward the woman. “There’s an all-night bar down the street. I can get some ice and—”

“Please don’t. I’d rather nobody know we’re here.”

Caroline heard the fear threaded through the woman’s words. “I’m not gonna tell anyone you’re here, but you really ought to—”

“No. Please. I’ll be okay.”

The voices caused the child to stir, and she woke with a whimper. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

The woman gathered the child closer to her. “In a while, Sara. We’ll get something to eat in a while.”

“I can run down to the bar and get takeout,” Caroline suggested.

“No,” the woman replied, this time more emphatically.

Something was definitely wrong. “Who are you hiding from?”

“Daddy,” the child answered innocently.

“Shush, Sara.” The woman hugged the child closer to her chest.

Caroline looked at her aghast. “Your husband did this?”

“He didn’t mean to; it was an accident.”

“If it was an accident, why are you hiding? Why didn’t he get ice for your face?” Caroline’s voice turned hard and unrelenting. Bitter memories of her own mama with similar bruises ran through her thoughts, and it became impossible to back away. “If this was an accident, he would have taken you to the hospital!”

“It was an accident,” the woman said apologetically, “but when Joe’s drinking—”

“Don’t be a fool,” Caroline said angrily. “And don’t make excuses for him.”

“Joe loves me, but lately he’s had a run of bad luck and—”

“A run of bad luck doesn’t excuse this!”

“He’s not a bad man. Tomorrow morning, Joe will see what he’s done and—”

Caroline narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “This isn’t the first time, is it?”