Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(28)

“Caroline?” Mom calls through her door. “Are you awake?”

“No.”

The door opens. “Very funny.”

The light from the hallway spills into the room. It’s not that bright, but Caroline throws her arm up to shield her eyes, pointedly letting her mother know she doesn’t welcome the visit.

Mom used to be such a classy lady, always dressed to the nines, meticulously styled with scarves and jewelry. These days, she spends a lot of time in old jeans that are much too big for her, her blond hair in a bedraggled ponytail, like right now.

Way to let yourself go, Mom.

Between Mom wasting away and Annie blowing up a couple of sizes, Caroline wonders if Daddy will even recognize them when he comes home.

I’m the only one who’s holding it together, she often tells herself. Daddy will be so proud of me.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, Car.”

“Sure. I’m great. No big deal at all that I found a live rat in my bag.”

Mom closes her eyes, like she’s counting to ten. When she opens them, she asks, “Do you think we can have one conversation without sarcasm?”

Caroline tilts her head, mulling it over. “Mmm, no,” she says, “I don’t think we can. We wouldn’t want to squelch my creative personality, would we?”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Mom manages to crack a grin.

“Hell, yes.”

“Don’t swear, Caroline.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mom. Daddy says ‘hell’ isn’t a swear word.”

Her mother’s mouth straightens into a firm line. Watching her, Caroline pretty much knows what she’s thinking about Daddy and hell.

But Mom quickly shifts gears, as she has a habit of doing. “Annie and I saved you some Chinese. Want me to heat it up?”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Even if I was…I mean, Chinese? Really? They use rat meat in kung pao chicken.”

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

Mom crosses the room and bends over to pick up the sandals Caroline had been wearing this afternoon. She opens the closet door, places them neatly on the shoe rack, closes the door.

Then she turns and says, “Listen…about the rat…”

Caroline tenses, realizing that her mother isn’t just here to tidy up or make her eat leftover takeout.

“I thought all along that it must have crawled into your bag. But now I’m wondering…maybe I was wrong.”

Her heart beats faster. Yes, she’d been thinking the same thing. But hearing Mom say it…

Suddenly, she’s frightened—and irritated with her mother for scaring her.

She isn’t Daddy. She doesn’t protect Caroline the way he did. So why would she come in here and make things worse?

“Is there anyone you can think of who might want to upset you?”

Other than you? “No,” Caroline tells her. Then, to be fair, she adds, “I mean, a lot of people hate me—us—because of…”

Daddy. She can’t say it. It’s so unfair, the way they judge.

“That’s what I was thinking, but…” Mom peers at her in the dark, maybe seeing the look on Caroline’s face, because she quickly says, “Who knows? Maybe the rat just crawled in there. This is New York, after all.”

“Yeah, and everyone knows that New York rats have outstanding fine motor skills. Zippers? Totally not a problem.”

“I’m trying to help you here, Caroline.”

“You’re making me feel like someone is out to get me.”

“I didn’t say that. All I said—”

“Was that someone put the rat there on purpose. Why would you even come in here and bring this up now?”

Mom hesitates, looking as though she wants to say something.

Caroline waits.

“Did you give them your name?”

“What?”

“When you reported the incident to the manager…did you tell him who you were?”

“Report it? You think I, like, calmly went and ‘reported it’?” Caroline can’t believe that her mother doesn’t get it. “Basically, I screamed and went hysterical, and they hustled me into the back room.”

“Did you tell them your name?”

Suddenly realizing what her mother’s getting at, she shakes her head. “Are you kidding? Do you think I wanted it to get out? The next thing you’d know, they’d be calling me Rat Girl on the front page of the Post.”

“So no one knew you were—”

“No, Mom. No one knew I’m related to the dreaded Garvey Quinn.”

“I was just worried that…”

“Someone’s out to get me.”

Even in this light, she can see her mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think so?”

“No, but you do.”

“Oh, Caroline…I didn’t mean to…Here, just get some sleep.” Mom kisses her forehead and bends over to snugly tuck in the sheet and blanket around the foot of the bed.

Caroline waits until her mother has left the room before she angrily kicks them all loose again.