Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(5)

Elle flushed, her lips parting in surprise as she stammered, “Oh…ah, I’m not…I don’t believe I’m experienced enough to work at that level. Really. I think the Petersons’ phone rang five times a week, max.”

I snickered. “And three of those were from Gigi Blanchard to gossip with Mrs. Peterson.”

But Susan wouldn’t have it. “I’m not worried about you at all. Anyone who enjoys secretarial work would be welcomed; I’m certain of it. I’ll talk with John.”

“Really, you don’t have to do that,” Elle insisted, the color in her cheeks deepening another shade.

“I don’t mind at all!” Susan said, oblivious to Elle’s discomfort. “We’re happy to help however we can, including your place here. For years and years, John has wanted to do something, anything to help you. It just wasn’t right—the way your parents turned you out, Emily. None of us have ever forgiven them for that.”

Mama stiffened next to me, her back straight and that false smile on her lips. “It was a long time ago.”

“But hardly forgotten,” Susan said, not unkindly.

She was so forward—too forward for me in that moment of exhaustion. The family I knew was small, only the nucleus of my sisters and parents, and opening that business up to Susan felt like an intrusion even though she was family too.

So much change, so quickly.

I turned to Mama, eager to escape. “How are you feeling?”

Relief filled her face up, softening it. “I could use a little nap, I think.”

I stood. “I’ll help you. Excuse us, Aunt Susan,” I added.

“Of course!” she said with a smile. “Dinner is at seven. Just let me know if you need anything at all.”

“We will.”

“And you’ll stay and chat with me, won’t you, Elle?” she asked eagerly.

“I’d love to,” she answered with a polite smile as I rolled Mama away.

When we were out of earshot, Mama said, “We’re horrible, cruel women for leaving Elle in there.”

I chuckled. “Elle would sacrifice herself for your welfare any day of the week.”

She sighed at that. “This…this is almost too much.”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed to open it back up as I turned into her room. “I know.”

I pushed her to the bed and turned it down before bending. She hooked her arm around my neck, bracing herself on the mattress top to hitch herself up with my help, dragging her limp legs behind her.

I tucked them under the covers as she watched with shining eyes.

Everyone said we looked alike—the same unruly blonde hair, the same slender frame, the same green eyes—but it was our smiles that I always thought made us look so much alike. We had the same shine—or we had before my father died.

I imagined her in a bed like this, in a room like this, long ago—before she had fallen in love and left New York behind. I imagined her rich and cosmopolitan, like a ghost twin of the simple, unfussy, easygoing woman I knew, the woman now dimmed and dulled by loss.

“I hate this, Annie. I hate everything about it.” Her words were as shaky as my breath.

I sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in mine. “Me, too, Mama. It’s…” I paused, thinking. “It’s too confusing, too conflicting. It’s a relief to have help, to be in such a beautiful home with such beautiful things, but everything has changed. This isn’t home.”

“It is now. We have nowhere else to go.” Her tears fell freely, her fingers squeezing mine, her sadness making her look young and vulnerable and small, propped up in that big bed, surrounded by pillows.

“I know that too. And I know we’ll find a way through it all.”

“One foot in front of the other, as your daddy would say.”

My gaze dropped to our hands, catching on her simple gold wedding band. “I wish he were here,” I said barely above a whisper.

“So do I.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment, chasing our thoughts through the maze of our minds.

When Daddy died, there hadn’t been enough money tied up in the house, not enough invested in Social Security, not enough shelled away in retirement. He was too young, and in his youth, he thought he had more time.

We all had.

Now, Mama needed full-time care, and Meg was still so young, years and years from being on her own. I had no job, no means to support myself, never mind Mama and Meg too, which was another reason I wanted so badly to find something, anything that could help ease that burden. We didn’t have the means to survive on our own. All we had left was each other.

I only wished that were enough.

A knock came from behind us, and we looked to the sound. Elle seemed both exasperated and relieved as she stepped in and closed the door.

“Well, I’ve gotten us off the hook for dinner,” she said quietly as she sat on the other side of Mama’s bed. “I convinced Aunt Susan that you needed rest and that we could all use a minute to settle in before entertaining. Put that way, she agreed and rescheduled for next week.”

I shook my head, frustrated and edging on agitated. My flair for drama and saying exactly what I felt won over my ability to be reasonable. “I know she means well, but we’ve been driving for days. How could she not understand we’d be exhausted?”