FORTY-SIX

Christy-Lynn watched as Missy wove her way through the crowd, pausing to throw Marco a wave and a wink. It was Taco Tuesday, and the place was jammed with the after-work crowd, unwinding with cheap tacos and full-priced margaritas. She wished she’d remembered before suggesting it. Her mood was anything but festive.

“My God,” Missy said as she flounced into her chair. “You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean. You look like you should be home in bed.”

Christy-Lynn reached for a tortilla chip and munched it absently. “My next stop. Promise. Thanks for meeting me tonight. I just didn’t feel like being by myself.”

“You know I never turn down a margarita. Do you want to do some food? We could order nachos and share.”

Christy-Lynn nodded.

Missy waved Marco over and placed their order, then turned back to Christy-Lynn. “So how was it? Your mother I mean. You said you found her.”

“It was awful.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

“She says she’s off the drugs, and I think I believe her. But the sink was full of beer cans. She was so beautiful once, the kind of woman men stopped and stared at—but she looked all worn down, like life had broken her.”

“I’m not surprised after everything you’ve told me. At least she’s off the stuff. That’s something, at least.”

“I suppose. She’s got a boyfriend—Roger. They’ve been together two years. That’s all I know about him. Oh, and he works for a lumber company.”

“So did you talk about . . . everything?”

“I did most of the talking. It was all very civil. No fireworks and not too many tears.”

“How did you leave it?”

“She told me to leave and not come back.”

Missy blinked several times. “I don’t understand.”

“I think she was ashamed. It was like she couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

“I guess that makes sense. It had to be hard seeing you after all these years, remembering how she was back then. Honestly, I expected her to hit you up for money.”

“I offered. She wouldn’t take it. She said taking money from me was one of the lowest points in her life. She claims it’s why she finally got clean.”

“Are you going to do what she asked and stay away?”

Christy-Lynn squeezed her lemon into her tea and gave it a stir. “I don’t know. She meant what she said. She really doesn’t want me to try and see her again. I left my number, but she didn’t even want that.”

“Then maybe you should honor that.”

“Maybe.”

Marco dropped off Missy’s margarita, promising to be back soon with their nachos. Missy discarded her straw and took a long sip, licking salt from her lips. “Sounds like she’s at least trying to take responsibility for the choices she’s made. That’s a good thing, right?”

“I guess.”

“So are you glad you went?”

Christy-Lynn picked up another chip then put it back down. “I don’t know what I feel. Or if I even accomplished anything by going. I felt like I was talking to a stranger. The woman I remember was never much of a mother. She was always too drunk or high or freaked out to think about me. And suddenly there she was, being all noble and self-sacrificing, asking me if I was happy.”

“And you told her what?”

“That I had a bookstore that kept me busy.”

“Is that the same thing?”

Christy-Lynn rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like her.”

“It’s a valid question, honey. I know there’s a ton going on in your life right now, but at some point, you really are going to have to give the happy thing a try.”

The nachos arrived just as Christy-Lynn was about to respond. She waited for Marco to disappear then spread her napkin in her lap. “Speaking of having a ton going on, there’s sort of been a development. Well, several actually.”

Missy set down her margarita a little warily. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Rhetta asked me to adopt Iris.”

“To adopt . . . oh my God, are you kidding? Where did that come from?”

“It’s a long story, but the short version is that Honey’s brother has suddenly decided to play the doting uncle now that his niece comes with a trust fund. He showed up and made a big scene about suing for custody. Rhetta was beside herself. That’s why she asked—because she’s terrified, and there’s no one else.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think I said? I said no. I’m just getting used to the idea of having a cat. Can you see me raising a little girl? That little girl?”

“I can actually. And apparently so can Rhetta.”

“I can’t, Missy. And you know why I can’t. And it’s not about her being Stephen’s. Seeing my mother, remembering just how wrong things can go . . . I just can’t.”

“For the record, I think you’re wrong. That child has had a claim on you since the day you laid eyes on her. But I get why you’re afraid. So what’s the other development if I dare ask?”