At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(124)

He was buying Keira which would work in a flash and the bastard knew it.

I pulled in breath and, instead of screaming, I sighed, dropped the note and flipped the switch on the coffeemaker.

Bobbie had given me until Monday off paid which was nice. Being hourly, she didn’t have to do that.

However she had also talked to me a couple of weeks ago about making me a manager. That salary would mean I’d get paid regularly what I got paid overtime which would be good, having that kind of money steady. But it also came with a load of responsibility which meant I’d still be working the overtime and have a bunch of headaches to go with it.

But she was through, she told me. She’d opened the garden center thirty years ago and she was plum tuckered out, (her words).

“Gotta take a break and you’re the only one I ever hired I can trust with the place. So, now’s my time. If you take the promotion, I get to have my time,” she said and, I had to admit, since I liked her despite her being ornery (or because of it), I wanted her to have that time. Not to mention the steady pay.

But she still hadn’t hired anyone to replace my part-time work. So if I became the manager, that meant I had to get trained to do what Bobbie did, none of which I knew how to do, and also find someone else and train them. Not to mention, there was a reason Bobbie didn’t trust anyone else who worked there. Most of them were good but it was just a job, they weren’t like me, what they did was not something they loved. The others who worked there, they were pains in the asses, even for me and the rest of the crew, and I didn’t have to supervise them and I didn’t relish the idea of doing it.

And on top of that, Mrs. Cousin’s yard that I’d redesigned and planted had gone over great. Mrs. Cousin loved it so much she showed it off and told all her friends all about me. Now I had two of her friends and her neighbor who all wanted me to work in their gardens, planting fall flowers and setting it up with bulbs for spring then coming back and sorting it out for the summer. Mrs. Cousin wanted me back too.

This meant I was working forty-five to fifty hour weeks and I had a shitload of other work. Money was coming in which was good and it didn’t feel like work which was also good. But I could feel burnout coming. I knew it.

And, on top of that, what was next for me?

I thought through this as I slid the lever to turn the flow of coffee off and got myself a cup then slid the lever back to let the rest of the coffee fill.

Mike was ready to take it to the next level. I knew it. I f**ked that up, I’d lose him. I knew that too. He might be a nice guy but he also wasn’t one you messed about and I didn’t want to be the type of woman who messed a man about. He was going to lose patience and I sensed that was soon.

And, Sam was gone. Gone. There was nothing to be close for anymore, not even four hours away close.

And Daniel Hart was out there. He’d murdered my husband and my brother and he thought, even doing that, he could toy with me. He’d do it still, I knew it. I just didn’t know what I’d do when he did. My choices were to unravel or go berserk, hunt him down and shoot him in the head. Neither were good for my girls (or for me, for that matter).

Joe was a wildcard and an infuriating one. I had no idea what was happening there but I knew what wasn’t going to happen. I also knew I needed to let him in on my feelings about that and I needed to do it soon.

At that thought, I took a sip of coffee, looked out the window toward his house and stared.

There was a dumpster in his front drive and a man was walking from the house to the dumpster carrying Joe’s old carpet, rolled up and tossed over his shoulder. He got to the dumpster, did a hitch with his body and the carpet went into the dumpster, creating a cloud of dust.

What on earth?

I was so enthralled by watching this, I jumped as my phone rang and then I reached out to it, not taking my eyes from the window as I watched the man walk back into Joe’s house.

“Hello?”

“Vi, honey?”

My eyes dropped to the sink.

“Bea,” I whispered.

Tim’s Mom.

“Oh honey,” Bea whispered back and I put my coffee cup down and clutched the sink.

She heard my breath hitch.

“Oh honey,” she whispered again then I sucked in another breath, this time without the hitch and she went on. “We wanted to go, Dad and me, but I couldn’t face her. Dad said that Sam’d understand, knowin’ how it was, but I felt so bad and I wanted to see you and the girls.”

I understood this. My mother had been hideous to Bea and Dad, what I called Tim’s father Gary because he refused to respond to me calling him anything else. My Mom had been so hideous I remembered it like it was yesterday.

When it was all going down, when I found out I was pregnant and we had that awful family meeting where Bea and Gary were trying to talk my Dad and Mom into understanding and finding ways to help us out, my mother had been ice cold and downright ugly. Mom honed right in on Bea’s frailties and the things Mom said, the way Bea was, Bea felt small, insignificant, worthless and she did because Mom wanted her too. Mom was such a bitch she was almost gleeful, making Bea feel that way.

Right in the middle of it, Gary had grabbed Bea’s hand, pulled her off my parents’ couch, tipped his head at Tim who’d grabbed my hand, we all walked out and that was the last I saw of them for three years. They didn’t come to my wedding. They didn’t come to the hospital when Kate and Keira were born. They only came at Sam’s urging to Kate’s birthday party and that, too, had not been pretty (so we didn’t see them again for another two years).