Reading Online Novel

Starter House(75)



“It was time to move on,” Ella Dane said. She gave Lacey a serene, superior smile. This happened every time Lacey brought up the subject of Grandpa Merritt, and the white house with the green door: Ella Dane took a giant step backward and upward onto the moral high ground, leaving Lacey ready to cry with frustration. “It was necessary,” Ella Dane said. “I forgive you. Bibbits forgives you too; he knows you couldn’t help it. And now it’s time to get our nails done. Everything in its own time.”

“Oh, you are so selfish!” Ella Dane had her hand on the doorknob, ready to walk out of the room, taking her unsullied vegan temper with her, and leaving Lacey red-faced and screeching like a spoiled first grader, and Lacey couldn’t let her go. She kept hearing Eric’s voice. Exactly like your mother. “You were the worst mother ever,” she said.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Ella Dane said, which was what she always said when Lacey called her names. Never an apology, never an excuse; she just pushed Lacey’s feelings back at her. It made Lacey frantic.

“I hated living with you. I hated never having a real home. It was embarrassing. I always wanted to stay late at school, so I wouldn’t have to go back to you.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“All I wanted was a place to live. I used to wish you’d die, and I’d be adopted by real people and grow up normal. It was my birthday wish every year.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

It was as pointless as arguing with an answering machine. “And another thing,” Lacey said, “we should find a Dumpster. That dog of yours stinks worse than ever.”

“Bibbits was a good dog, and he deserves a good burying.”

That was better. At least it was a reaction. “Bibbits was a rotten dog. And you’re a rotten dog trainer. What kind of dog trainer has a dog that poops on the floor?”

“Bibbits had special needs.” Ella Dane was crying now, silently, with her chin up. She hardly blinked, but her cheeks glistened. “He was my dog, and I loved him.”

“You always had a dog you loved better than me,” Lacey said. She heard herself: she sounded just like Drew. Or any other spoiled, obnoxious child. She pressed her hands over her mouth and sat on the edge of the bed, then wrapped her arms around her belly and rocked the baby. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. “I can’t think straight. I want to go home.”

“Go home, then.”

“You know I can’t.” Somehow, she wasn’t sure how, but somehow, it was Ella Dane’s fault. “Drew will kill my baby if I go home.”

“Then stop whining about it.” Ella Dane wiped her face with the back of her arm. She hoisted the cooler. Water sloshed from one side to the other, and the skunky smell wafted out, stronger than before. “Bibbits wants to be buried by the sea, so I’ll meet you at that motel in Spinet Cove. And after that, you know what, since you’re so grown up and responsible and everything, you can take care of yourself.”

Ella Dane balanced the cooler on her left leg while she opened the door; she caught the door on her right forearm and spun out of the room, letting the door slam behind her. Lacey, dissatisfied and jittery, waited for her to come back and finish the argument, but she didn’t.

After a while, Lacey went down to the parking lot. Ella Dane’s car was gone. She returned to the room and e-mailed Greeley Honeywick. She stayed up until two, but Ella Dane didn’t come back.

Ella Dane was still gone the next morning, so Lacey checked out on her own. She’d used the emergency Visa when checking in, and now that Eric had canceled it, she’d have to pay for the room with cash. She counted her money five times. After only two days, she was down to seventeen hundred thirty-six dollars. Two nights in the hotel would eat up three hundred of that. How was she going to live? She couldn’t just drive to a new town and fall on her feet like Ella Dane—find someone she used to know, maybe one of the friends she’d completely ignored for the last four months, not even letting them organize a baby shower for her, and invite herself to sleep on their couch, pick up a few dollars here and there taking care of people’s dogs. This money had to last till she’d worked things out with Eric.

Worked things out: whatever that meant. Another day with no conversation made it even less likely they’d get back together. Sooner or later, they’d have to talk about what came next. Was he going to pay spousal support to her? He’d have to. Maybe there was prenatal child support. This couldn’t be the end. What was she going to do?