Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“They hired someone with more experience skating teaching. I mean skating teaching.” She shook her head. “No, I mean…whatever.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do with myself for the rest of my life.”
“I wish I had an answer. Only you can figure that out. But I know the answer is not drinking like this.”
“It helps me forget for a while.” She leaned over and rested her head on her soaked jeans. “I just want to go back to when I still had a shot. Even if it was a long shot, there was hope. Now I feel…hopeless.”
“Maybe you should talk to someone? Go see a doctor?”
She frowned. “I just need a plan. Something to do with my life.” A few seconds later, she abruptly stood and stumbled over to the nearest flowerbed, dry heaving at first. I stood behind her and held her hair back as she vomited. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t think the tequila agreed with the lake water I swallowed.”
“Yeah, probably not.”
She started to cry. “I’m sorry I’m such a fuck up.”
“You’re having a rough patch. You’ll get through it.”
“I don’t want to turn out like my mother.”
“So let’s nip this in the bud. Quit the drinking.”
“I drink before noon.”
I’d suspected that to be the case on more than one occasion. But when I asked, she’d said she was hung over. Not that that was much better.
“You want me to take you somewhere? To a detox or rehab?”
“Do you think I need to?”
“I think I want you to get better. So if you’re up for it, let’s give it a shot. It can’t hurt, right?”
“I guess not.”
“I’ll make some calls.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“I’m going to get better for you.”
I shook my head. “No, Evie. You need to get better for you.”
CHAPTER 23
* * *
Pack the Epsom
Fox
“What are you up to this weekend, boss?”
I didn’t need Porter knowing I’d taken his suggestion to take Josie to the winery, so I stared straight at the road as we drove back from the jobsite in my truck on Friday afternoon. “Not much.”
I caught him smirking in my peripheral vision. “Uh-huh.”
I wasn’t sure if that meant he knew something or suspected, but I left it at that. Porter went back to playing some game with annoying cartoon sounds on his phone.
But a few miles later, he couldn’t help himself. “I’m not usually a wine drinker, especially reds. I went for the ambiance and because it made the girl I was seeing happy. But they make this wine that tastes almost like black cherries. I think it was called petit verdot.”
My eyes flashed to him and back to the road. “Who told you?”
Porter snickered. “Miss Hope called the office. She told Opal you were going out of town for the weekend.”
I shook my head. “My own mother.”
“Now don’t get upset with her. She didn’t spill the beans intentionally. The other day, you sent me over to the home-improvement store to pick up a spool of electrical wire. While I was there, Sam happened to be working up an estimate for some flooring. I saw Josie’s name on top, so when he asked if I needed any help, I told him to finish up what he was working on. Figured I was on the clock and you wouldn’t mind. Anyway, Sam said it wasn’t a rush because the customer had come in yesterday to get an estimate, but she was going away for the weekend. I put two and two together after Opal hung up with Miss Hope and asked if I knew you were going out of town this weekend. Don’t worry, I didn’t mention the connection I made to Opal.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Porter smiled. “Glad you took my recommendation, though.”
I’d been hoping to get away without acknowledging that. But I felt like a dick now that I’d been caught. “Thanks for the idea.”
He smiled bigger than if I’d just given him a raise. “You’re welcome.”
***
“Alright, now I know you’re probably as nervous as I am about my weekend. But I think it’s time.”
I walked out on my back deck and found Josie kneeling on the grass at the water’s edge, having a conversation with the duck. The scene was too entertaining to interrupt.
She stroked his feathers and pointed behind her. “You have a nice new house. Well, it’s not new new. I got it at the garage sale I went to with Opal. But it’s clean and new to us. So if you decide you’re not ready to go back with your friends yet, your bed is fluffed up and waiting.”
Jesus Christ, I hadn’t even noticed the new addition to the yard. The woman had bought a wild duck a dog house. I suppose that was fitting, seeing as he slept on an orthopedic bed.