All the Little Lights(37)

“For sure. Tell him you love him and start naming your future babies. Seriously. He’ll run.”

I laughed once, set one cup in front of Tess and the other in front of me. I gulped, and Tess watched me, disgusted. “Why don’t you turn on the AC? There’s an idea.”

“If you see Mama before I do, feel free to ask.”

“So who was he?”

“None of your business.”

Tess put down her cup. “I’m out. It’s got to be ninety degrees in here, and you’re cranky. Oh, and you have a guest. He was checking in just before you got home.”

I watched Tess leave, calling after her, “Who?”

A few moments later, Duke yelled from upstairs. “Damn it all to hell!” I heard something crash, and I rushed to stand at the last step. A door slammed, and then footsteps began walking down the hall, slow and steady, the wood creaking under Duke’s weight.

He peered down at me, wearing a stained white button-down with a loosened gray tie. His belly hung over the belt that held up his gray slacks, and he took a step down the stairs while hanging on to the banister.

“No towels. How many times have I told you that I need fresh towels? I shower every day! I need a damn towel every day! How hard is that?”

I swallowed, watching him descend the steps slowly. Althea had said the day before that she’d finish the laundry so I could talk to Elliott. Out of my routine, I’d forgotten to stock the rooms.

“I’m sorry, Duke. I’ll get those for you now.”

“It’s too late! I had to stand in my bathroom and drip-dry. Now I’m late. I’m sick and tired of needing something every time I check in to this shithole! Towels are a basic accommodation. Basic! How do you not understand that?”

“I’ll get the towels,” I said, stepping toward the laundry.

Duke descended the last two steps quickly and grabbed my arm, his thick fingers sinking into my flesh. “If it happens again . . .” He pulled me closer. He was short, at almost eye level with me, which didn’t make the crazy look on his sweaty face any less intimidating. He stared at me, his nostrils flaring while he breathed heavily through his nose. “You just make sure it doesn’t.”

“You’ll have to let me go first, Duke,” I said, balling my hand into a fist.

He looked down at my hand and then turned me loose, shoving me away. I walked to the laundry, seeing the towels Althea had folded perfectly on top of the dryer. I took five thickly stacked white towels to Duke’s regular room, knocking first. He didn’t answer, so I cracked the door open.

“Hello?” I asked, hoping for Poppy, or Mama, or anyone but Duke.

I stepped across the empty bedroom, noting Duke’s still-made bed and the open, empty suitcase on the stand next to the dresser. Hanging in the closet were all-too-familiar suits, allowing the always-present dull ache for my dad to grow into full-blown grief. I always missed him, but it didn’t hurt until it did, and then realization and sadness crashed over me in waves. I had gotten better about crying on the inside. Shedding tears didn’t change anything anyway.

The bathroom was clean, the shower curtain closed. I bent down in front of the wooden shelf in the corner, placing the folded, fluffy white towels there.

The rings on the shower curtain clicked behind me, and I stood, closing my eyes, waiting for whoever was standing there to make their presence known. When nothing happened, I turned around, noticing that the air conditioner had kicked on. The air blew through the vent, making the shower curtain gently wave.

I breathed out, relieved, and then quickly left the room, taking the rest of the towels into Mama’s room, saving just one for me. The rest of the rooms were vacant, but I looked for dirty laundry anyway and then carried a nearly empty basket back downstairs, starting a small load in the washer.

As water began to fill the deep basin, I silently cursed myself. It was stupid to leave my chores to someone else. I knew better, but ignoring my responsibilities for Elliott was exactly what had to be avoided. Keeping secrets meant not drawing attention to the Juniper, and Duke getting angry enough to stay somewhere else for the night would draw attention. I could just imagine him taking his ratty, olive-green suitcase to the Holiday Inn in the next town over, causing a scene at the desk while he tried to check in with an ID that didn’t match his name. We had to keep him happy, otherwise the very worst would happen, and I wasn’t even sure what that was except for knowing they would take Mama and me away from each other. Maybe for good.

I spent the next hour cleaning, and just as I finished a noodle casserole, I heard the door open and close. I wasn’t sure if it was Duke or Mama, so I waited for the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

I tensed. Duke was already back. “Are there any damn towels?” he yelled as he neared the top floor. “Every time I step outside in this godforsaken town, I’m drenched in sweat.”

“There are fresh towels in your room,” I called.

He stomped down the stairs, and I stiffened. “Did you just yell at me, little girl?”

“No, I called to you like you did to me.”

He narrowed his eyes and then wrinkled his nose, sniffing. He leaned over to look at the casserole dish behind me. “What’s that?”

“Noodle casserole. Mama’s recipe.”

“I’ve had that before.”