the store rent, would it help?”
Bill felt his heartbeat quicken. Maybe he could make magic happen. He would love not to throw in the towel. Hybrinskis never give up, his father used to say. “Possibly.”
“Then please, ask him.” Marianne took his hand. “Just do it.”
“That’s the Nike slogan, honey.”
“And look where they are now, huh?”
CHAPTER 16
Barb Gallagher
Barb dragged the mattress upstairs with her best friend, Sharon Kelly, helping her, since Kyle wasn’t home. Sharon was slim, pretty, and African-American, with her hair smoothed into a low ponytail, her dark eyes set wide, and a round face with an easy smile. Except for now, with the effort of moving the mattress.
“Is it too heavy?” Barb asked, worried.
“Nah. I just wish I’d changed after work.” Sharon was a commercial insurance agent in Philadelphia, so she was dressed in a white oxford shirt with a navy blue suit. “Can I just ask, why didn’t you have the delivery guy bring it up?”
“It cost extra. They call it white glove service. Are you sorry you dropped in?”
“No way.” Sharon hoisted the mattress from the bottom, climbing the stairwell slowly. “I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Barb felt so grateful to Sharon, who was one of the few friends who had stuck with her, after what had happened last year.
“I’m just so glad you moved back.”
“Me, too.” Barb and Sharon had grown up together in nearby Meghan’s Run, a quaint town that got swallowed up by strip malls and developments like Brandywine Hunt.
“Whatever.” Sharon pushed the mattress upward with a grunt of effort. “Thank God it’s only a single mattress.”
“That would be me, from here on. Single all the way.”
“You could meet someone. I know a girl at work who’s dating someone she met online, if you can believe that.”
“That’s crazy.” Barb yanked on the mattress. “Let’s review. I live in the suburbs with a teenage son. I have a dead-end job. Oh, and lest we forget, my ex is in prison. Other than that, I’m marketable.”
“You could be the bad girl.” Sharon’s dark eyes glittered.
“I was never the bad girl.”
“I tried to teach you, but you failed.” Sharon grinned crookedly. “Guess what I heard? Tom Whitfield is single.”
“The day I go back to my high school boyfriend, shoot me.” Barb groaned, hauling the mattress.
“Why? He was sweet.”
“He was eighteen!” Barb had to admit to feeling a tingle. She’d been crazy about Tom back then. But still, you can’t go home again. Then she realized she was trying. She reached the top of the landing. “You need a break?”
“No, I’m fine. Git ’er done.”
“You sure you want to be at the bottom? I think the bottom is harder.” Barb flashed on her first day at college. They’d gone to the University of Delaware with many of their classmates, since Meghan’s Run was close to the state line. “You know, I think we had this same conversation when we moved into the dorm, remember?”
“Are you kidding? I don’t remember yesterday, much less the first day of college.”
“Let’s go.” Barb edged backward, and the mattress curved in the narrow staircase, then got wedged against the bannister. “Oh no, it’s stuck.”
“Damn.” Sharon stopped, wiping her brow. “Just shove it hard around the corner.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Barb muscled the mattress around the stairwell as Sharon inched up, and together they reached the hallway on the second floor, where they caught their breath. “I can’t believe I’m starting over at my age. What’s next, orange crates full of albums?”
“Honey, you can start over at any age. And you got rid of bad rubbish.”
“That’s true.” Barb tried not to second-guess herself, but it came second nature. “I should never have married him in the first place.”
“You loved him.”
“I was blind.”
“Let it go, girl.”
“I can’t, when I look at what it cost. All it cost.” Barb sighed heavily, and the hallway felt tight, warm, and vaguely claustrophobic.
“Go. Move.”
“Got it.” Barb slid the mattress toward the spare room, and Sharon pushed from behind. They passed the family photos on the wall, which were few, since Barb hung only those with her and Kyle.
“You landed on your feet, and you did the right thing. That matters most of all.”
“Remind me, so I feel good about myself.”
“You blew the whistle on your sleazoid husband.”
“I should’ve known it earlier.”
“You couldn’t have, he hid it from everybody. Give yourself some credit, please.”
“I can’t.” Barb shuddered to remember that night, the beginning of the end. Brian had been working late so often