Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Her cheeks flush a sweet pink. “Thank you. I care for you, too.”
“I’m glad to hear that. This is all so fucking new. And we’re coming together at a shitty time, but I sure wouldn’t change meeting you. Not for anything.”
She draws in a breath, attempts a smile. “Will you come with me again? To Billings, to see my mother?”
I’m tempted to ask her why we didn’t see her mother this morning when we were already in Billings, but I don’t. She had her reasons. Or maybe she didn’t think of it. Or maybe she did, but she needed a break. Whatever it is, I’m not going to throw it in her face.
“Of course. Don’t you want to call first?”
She shakes her head. “I really don’t. I’ll have to tell her why I’m coming or make some excuse. I don’t want to lie and I can’t tell her this over the phone. I just can’t.”
“I understand. What if she isn’t home?”
“She’ll be home. She’s a hairdresser, and she works six days a week. Sunday is the one day she closes her shop.”
“What if she’s out running errands?”
“If she has errands, she closes the shop for an hour or two or she does it in the evening after work. She’s pretty adamant about keeping her Sundays free.”
I nod. “Sounds like a woman who knows her priorities.”
“She’s not perfect,” Sadie says. “But she did her best and she doesn’t deserve the news I’m about to give her.”
“When do you want to leave?”
“Now?”
“Absolutely. For you? Anything.”
An hour later, we’re in a trailer park outside Billings.
“Is this where you grew up?” I ask.
“No. My mom sold the house I grew up in after I graduated from high school. She used the proceeds to buy her own beauty shop, and then the excess to buy the place here. She keeps it up real nice. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” I might be inheriting a billion, but I came from humble beginnings. Started my own shop just like her mother.
She directs me to a well-kept mobile home on the property, freshly painted a light sage green. The windows have darker green shutters, and a few lawn chairs sit outside the door on the small lot. A Ford Fiesta sits in the parking spot next to the home. Non-pretentious living at its finest. Sadie’s right. I like it.
I get out of the truck and walk to the passenger side to open the door for Sadie. I give her my hand and help her out and then she stares at the small home.
She walks the few steps to the cement stoop and knocks. I follow her.
A dog yaps behind the door, and when it opens, a woman who could be Sadie’s older twin—same dark hair, only it’s cut in a short style, and the same facial structure and slightly prominent chin—answers.
“Hey, Ma,” Sadie says.
“Shoo!” Sadie’s mother says to the small puppy.
He slinks into another room.
“What are you doing here, honey?”
“Do I need an excuse to see my mom?”
“Of course not. Come on in.” Then she eyes me. “And who’s this?”
“This is Miles. Miles Bridger.” Sadie reaches toward me and I take her hand. “Miles, this is my mom, Brenda Hopkins.”
“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Hopkins.” I hold out my other hand.
She takes it and smiles. “It’s Brenda. Everyone calls me Brenda. I could never pull off Mrs. or Ms.”
“Brenda it is then.”
The little dog—looks like he’s a cross between a schnauzer and a Yorkie—struts back out.
“And who’s this?” I kneel and give the dog a pet on the head.
“That’s Princess. And she is a princess for sure. Now that you’ve given her love, she won’t leave you alone.”
“That’s okay. I love animals. Good thing, since I find myself living on a ranch.”
“Oh, you’re a rancher?” Brenda asks.
“Sort of.”
“It’s a long story, Ma.” Sadie leads me into the small living area inside the trailer. “We need to sit down.”
“Of course. Please do. I’m afraid I was planning to go to the market tomorrow after work. I don’t have anything to offer you other than water.”
“That would be great.” I smile.
“Coming right up.” She scurries the few steps into her kitchen.
“You okay?” I ask Sadie.
“Yeah. Not like I have much of a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, baby,” I tell her, “but you’re strong. You can do this. And I’m right here with you.”
Brenda returns with two glasses of water and hands us each one. She takes a seat in a chair opposite the loveseat where Sadie and I are sitting. Those two pieces encompass all the furniture in the small living area.
Brenda wipes her hand over her forehead. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you both today?”
Sadie clears his throat. “It’s about Joey.”
Brenda gasps, clasps her hand to her heart, her eyes wide. “Oh my God. Has he been found?”