Last Breath (The Good Daughter 0.5)(17)

Charlie asked Lenore, “Why do you put up with him?”

“I don’t, really.” Lenore told Charlie something Rusty would not: “Your dad cut his fee in half to help out, but Leroy walked away with around fifty grand, which is a lot, but not a hell of a lot.”

“Is Leroy on disability?”

“I doubt it. He wouldn’t be able to qualify because he’s a convicted felon. Can’t get food stamps or housing or any government aid.”

“I don’t guess Maude has a job?”

“She’s got plenty of beer money,” Lenore said. “And she’s at Shady Ray’s more than your father, so she’s pulling an income somehow.”

“Do you know her?”

“Just around.” She winked at Charlie. “I’m at Shady Ray’s more than your father, too.”

“Is Maude making the beer money on her back?”

“I guess there’s a certain type of man who’d pay to screw her, but I can’t think there’s enough kink in this pissant town to keep her gainfully employed.”

Charlie could not disagree. Neither could she see Maude Faulkner prostituting herself out. Running a bevy of prostitutes, maybe, but not doing any of the dirty work herself.

Which meant that the woman’s beer money had probably been siphoned from Flora’s college fund.

Lenore asked, “You okay, baby?”

Unbidden, Charlie’s eyes had gone to the calendar again. “They threatened me. Leroy did, but Maude was clearly on board.”

“Is that why you look so pale?”

Charlie made herself look down at the half-empty pan of cinnamon buns. Her mouth watered at the prospect of the sweet, warm goodness, but her arms felt too tired to move.

“Charlotte?”

Slowly, reluctantly, Charlie’s gaze returned to the calendar. She stared at the numbers, willing them to roll back. This wasn’t only about the Visa bill. She had lost an entire week. How had that happened?



Lenore asked, “How was Belinda this morning?”

“Angry,” Charlie said, because there was no better description. “She was angry the first time she was pregnant, too.”

“She’s not angry because she’s pregnant. She’s angry because her husband’s a dick.”

“She said that men change when you have children.”

“Ryan was always a dick. It’s what made him a good soldier.” Lenore held her hand. “What is it, honey?”

“What was Mama like when she was pregnant?”

Lenore smiled. “Excited. A little scared. Radiant. I never believed that bullshit about pregnant women glowing. I mean, what are they, light bulbs? But with your mama, it was true. She glowed with joy.”

Charlie smiled back. She had thought the same thing about Belinda this morning.

Lenore continued, “You sister was a happy accident, but with you, everything was planned. She told your daddy exactly when it was going to happen, what you were going to be named, what subjects you were going to love in school, what you were going to be when you grew up.”

“Was she right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your mother was always right about everything.” Lenore added, “And she loved you and your sister to her very last breath.”

Charlie had witnessed her mother’s last breath. She knew that Lenore’s words were true.

Lenore said, “Not all men are assholes.”

“I know.” Charlie picked at the cinnamon bun until a piece flaked off.

“Ben is a wonderful human being.”

“I know that, too.”



“So.” Lenore sat back in her chair. She studied Charlie. “Are we going to talk about how your period is a week late?”

Charlie crammed the cinnamon bun into her mouth so that she didn’t have to answer.





4

Jo and Mark Patterson lived in a newly developed section of town where trailer parks and chicken farms had been replaced by massive five-and six-bedroom houses on three-acre estate lots. This was the sprawliest of urban sprawl, people who were rich enough to live in Atlanta, but successful enough to make the two-hour drive to the city once or twice a month to check in on their investments before heading back to cleaner, easier living in the country. Ben and Charlie often made caustic jokes about the hideous McMansions, but the truth was that they were jealous of the bonus rooms and four-car garages and especially the swimming pools.

The Pattersons only had a three-car garage, which made her feel weirdly sorry for them. From the street, the brick and stucco semi-Tudor style looked crisp and clean, but as Charlie pulled down the long drive, she saw that some of the paint was peeling back from the trim. All of the garage doors were closed. An older-looking BMW was parked in the driveway. Charlie had hoped she’d be early enough to accidentally run into Oliver, Flora Faulkner’s alleged boyfriend, but she gathered from the MY KID IS AN HONOR STUDENT AT PIKEVILLE HIGH SCHOOL bumper sticker that Jo Patterson was a stay-at-home mom.



Charlie checked back through her notebook, because she had already forgotten the Patterson girl’s name.

Nancy.

Charlie found her Dorito-dusted pen. She had put on her list that she needed to talk to Flora’s teachers at school, but she should go ahead and check out Nancy Patterson, too. And she might as well throw Oliver Patterson into the mix. He was likely long-gone from school, but teachers tended to remember bad kids, and Charlie guessed by the fact that Oliver already had a criminal record that he had been memorable in high school.