Kiss an Angel(71)

The teenager rose from the bench, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk and got you into so much trouble.” A tear slid over her lashes. “I guess I should know how that feels better than anybody because of Terry’s kids and everything. I should never of done it, but I got so jealous because of Alex.” Her voice was coming out in little gulps. Her chest spasmed. “It’s stupid. He’s too old . . . and he wouldn’t even want somebody like me. But he’s always so nice to me, and I guess . . . I guess I wanted that all the time, even though”—She gasped for air—“even though I know it wouldn’t ever work out. I’m sorry, Daisy.”

With a sob, she turned and fled.

Daisy made her way over to Tater and the baby elephant curled his trunk around her. She rested against him, trying to decide what to do. Before she’d confronted Heather, everything had seemed clear to her, but now she was no longer so certain. If she didn’t tell Alex the truth about Heather, he would keep on believing she was a thief. But if she did tell him, Heather was going to be badly punished, and she wasn’t sure she could live with that.

Over by the road, she saw Alex climb into his truck to head into town. Earlier he’d told her he had to straighten out a problem with the company supplying the donnikers and that he might be gone for several hours. She’d planned to use the time to unearth the secret purchases she’d been making the past few weeks that would transform the ugly green trailer into something resembling a home, but her encounter with Heather had robbed her of some of her enthusiasm. Still, working was better than sitting around brooding.

As she headed back toward the trailer, she felt her spirits lift. Finally she’d be doing something she was really good at. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Alex’s face.





14




“What in the hell have you done?” Alex froze in place just inside the door.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Daisy gazed with satisfaction at the trailer’s transformation into the charming and cozy nest she’d imagined.

Cream-colored bedsheets gaily splattered with pansies in purples, blues, and butterscotch draped the ugly plaid couch, while scatter pillows in the same colors made the old pieces of furniture inviting and comfortable. She’d attached small brass rods above the yellowed blinds that covered the windows and looped them with lengths of unbleached muslin. Using pansy blue and lavender ribbons of various widths and textures, she’d caught up the fabric in soft poofs.

A silky blue-and-violet scarf camouflaged the torn shade on the lamp that sat in the corner, while several wicker baskets held the clutter of magazines and papers. An attractive assortment of mismatched containers ranging from milk-glass vases and pottery bowls to a Wedgwood blue pitcher graced the chipped kitchen countertop, along with a colorful braided cord stretched across them and attached with tacks to the wall at each end to hold them in place when the trailer was moving.

The table was set with matching place mats in a purple and-violet paisley pattern and mismatched blue willow china featuring the same colors. White stoneware mugs and two crystal goblets, one of which had a hairline crack in its base, sat next to indigo glass salad plates. In the center of the table, a chipped salt-glazed crock held a bouquet of wildflowers she’d picked at the edge of the lot.

“I couldn’t do much with the carpet,” she explained, still breathless from the last-minute rush to have everything in place, “but I’ve gotten rid of the worst of the stains, so it’s not too bad. When I get the money, I’m going to do the bed, too, with one of those pretty Indian cotton spreads and more scatter pillows. I’m not much of a seamstress, but I think I can . . .”

“Where did you get the money to do this?”

“From my paycheck.”

“You used your own money?”

“I found all kinds of thrift stores and second-hand shops in the towns we’ve visited. Do you know I’d never been in a Wal-Mart until two weeks ago? It’s amazing how far you can stretch a dollar if you’re careful, and—” The expression on his face finally registered and her smile faded. “You don’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. I can see it in your face.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it; I just don’t think it makes sense to waste your money on this place.”

“I don’t think it’s a waste.”

“It’s a trailer, for god’s sake. We’re not going to live here that long.”

That wasn’t the real reason for his objection. As she gazed at him, she realized she had two choices. She could go off and treat herself to a well-deserved sulk, or she could force him to be honest with her. “Tell me exactly what’s wrong.”

“I already have.”

“No, you haven’t. Sheba said you’d turned down a nicer trailer for this place.”

He shrugged.

“You wanted to make it as hard on me as possible, didn’t you?”

“Don’t take it personally. I hadn’t even met you when I made the decision about the trailer.”

“But you’d heard about me from my father.”

He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine he’d bought the day before, a bottle that she’d considered too expensive for their budget.