by far the wallpaper. The owner, Mrs. Mazille, obviously had appreciated wallpaper back in its 1980s heyday. But God, was it awful. Bright and gaudy and loud. Mrs. Mazille had told her she could paint over it if she wanted, and maybe she would.
That was...if Quinn was staying. If she had a job. If her life didn’t implode again.
Speaking of imploding, she had to call her bank first thing tomorrow and see what the heck was going on with the debit card. She hadn’t used it at all since paying for the car repairs last week, and there hadn’t been a problem then. Thank goodness.
She thought she would die of embarrassment when Baby had had to pay for her soup and coffee at the diner. He, of course, had taken it all completely in stride.
There didn’t seem to be much that he didn’t take in stride.
She knew she had money in her bank account—at least enough to cover soup and coffee. It probably really was just a matter of making sure they knew all of her purchases would be in Wyoming now.
Her phone rang from where she’d thrown it on the table.
She picked it up, shaking her head when she saw it was Peter again. He’d picked the wrong time—right when she was thinking about how broke she was.
“I really have nothing to say to you,” she said without greeting. “Or, nothing nice, at least.”
“Just who do you think you are?” It wasn’t Peter’s voice; it was a woman.
“Who is this?” Quinn asked.
“This is Nancy. You might remember me as the woman Peter decided was better suited for him than you.”
Oh, Quinn knew exactly who Nancy was. She was also currently wearing a ring that had been bought with the money that would have made a big difference in Quinn’s life right now.
“Just so happens I have nothing to say to you, either, Nancy. Why are you calling me?”
“You think because Peter is out of town that you can do something to mess with his bank account? How dare you have the banks put a stop on his debit card.”
Quinn rubbed her fingers across her eyes. She and Peter no longer had combined bank accounts, but they still used the same bank.
“I didn’t do it. It must be some screw up with the bank. In fact, the same thing happened to me today—”
“We know it was you who broke into the house last week, despite trying to say you’re in Wyoming. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you need to let go. Peter has moved on. Why can’t you do the same?”
Quinn forced herself to count to ten before answering. Maybe if she had done that when Peter had accused her of misconduct, she wouldn’t be in her current situation.
She got as far as three. “Listen, Nancy. I have been out of Peter’s life for two years since the divorce. I have no idea what’s going on with the debit cards, but why don’t you try asking the bank first rather than assume it’s some nefarious action on my part?”
“We have every reason to think that this could be you. You have proven yourself—”
“Was it your debit card that was having the problem?”
“No, it was Peter’s, but—”
“Then I don’t know why I’m having this conversation with you. Tell Peter to call me himself when he gets back in town.”
She didn’t want to talk to him, but she definitely didn’t want to talk to Nancy.
“Just because Peter is too kindhearted to say what he really feels about your actions doesn’t mean that I am.”
Maybe Peter finally felt a little remorse for what he’d done. How he’d successfully left her with zero options. Jobless and ostracized, without a network of friends. Broke.
All because he thought she was self-sabotaging when a string of bad luck hit. They’d already been divorced by that time, but it would’ve been nice for him to not have thrown her under the bus like they’d had no history whatsoever.
But he was Nancy’s problem now.
“Tell Peter to check with the bank,” she finally said. “I had problems with my debit card today too, so maybe they are having some sort of systemwide issue.”
“If this is some sort of ploy to get Peter back...”
Quinn laughed. Like, belly laughed. She was aware there was a hint of hysteria to the sound, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Nancy was obviously offended. “What’s so funny? Everyone knows you didn’t take the divorce well.”
Two years had given Quinn perspective about her marriage and