blindly for the elevator. Only when she hit street level did her shoulders return to their normal position. Soaking in the movement and colors and scent of the city, Lexie strode toward the plaza she’d discovered during her first week at J&C, dodging sidewalk cracks and subway grates in her toe-pinching, three-inch heels.
At the plaza, she glanced at the young women surrounding her, many of them pulling out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches like the one inside her own purse. Sitting on the cool marble steps near the fountain, she slipped off her shoes, then sighed and wiggled her toes before she dug in to her lunch.
She was biting into her apple when her phone vibrated. She glanced at the Caller ID, sat up with a jerk, and swiped the screen with an impatient finger. “Hi, Mom.” Worry gnawed at her. “Something wrong? You always call me at night.”
“Could be worse. My back pain’s been flaring up something awful, though.” Her mother’s voice was whinier than usual.
“I’m sorry.” Lexie struggled to ignore the guilt that sidled in next to her concern. “Is Aiden helping?” She didn’t ask about the other man in their small family. Stu had an awful habit of disappearing whenever the going got tough.
“Your brother’s been checking on me every day. Even stayed with us last weekend. He fixed the drip in the kitchen sink and did yard work. I think he might agree to move in with me until I’m back on my feet. Especially now.”
“What’s going on?” As much as she dreaded the thought of returning to her hometown, she started calculating the cost of trekking to Battleton to help out for the weekend. “Please tell me what happened.”
“I kicked Stu out last night.”
About time. “Good for you. You deserve better,” she said, meaning every word, then stopped short as a new thought intruded. Her mother hated being alone as much as Lexie cherished her newfound single status. The jerk must’ve done something really bad. “What did he do?
Her mother hesitated. “He stole money from Aiden. I confronted Stu, and he left. I won’t tolerate a thief in my home. Still, it’s hard.”
She heard the regret in her mother’s voice and gritted her teeth.
Please, please don’t go down that road.
“I’ve got no skills, and you know how hard it is to get a decent job around here. Living on Social Security is near impossible.”
Don’t say it. Don’t.
Lexie pursed her lips and shoved unhappy toes back into high heels.
“Let’s face it, I need a man to help out.”
As usual, her mother’s answer to all of life’s ills was getting a man. Lexie snorted. Reluctant to hurt her feelings, but figuring her mother’s four failed marriages gave her the license to speak up, she gave it a shot. “You don’t need a man.” We don’t need men. “You can survive on your own.”
“If only your father hadn’t died,” her mother lamented.
Lexie swallowed the lump in her throat. “No amount of wishing or crying will ever bring him back.” Her father’s home had been in the Battleton Community Cemetery going on thirteen years in October. “We owe it to him to move on and enjoy life. He’d want that.”
“Your father was a good man. I miss him, and I miss you.” Her voice was soft. “When you left after Thanksgiving, I figured it was because I’m always on your case about something. But last week I ran into Billy Sheldon’s mother shopping at the Stop and Go. She said he’d arrived home the same day you ran away to New York. Did you know he was back in town—that he and Darleen had split up for real? His mother said he’d called you, wanted to make it up to you for all the embarrassment he caused. Maybe you should come home and give him a second chance. You two sure would make pretty babies.”
“I gave him a second chance, and he blew it.” She paced the sidewalk, having stood as soon as Billy Sheldon’s name passed her mother’s lips. “And I didn’t run.” She stopped and squared her shoulders, refusing to be anyone’s fool. No second chances. No pretty babies. No happily-ever-after. Not with Billy, or Tristan, Doug, Sean, or any other guy she’d been blind enough to trust in her six colorful years of dating. “This move is about me, nobody else.” She kept her voice level, pushing away the flood of memories too depressing to dredge up. “I hate to cut you short, but I should