"Youll sell the furniture for back rent, okay?"
"Okay. " Mrs. Mauk looked down at the keys, then up at her. Her smile was sad. "Im sorry, Lauren. If theres anything I can do to help . . . " She let the sentence trail off. They both knew it had nowhere to go.
Lauren appreciated it all the same. "You were good to us. Letting the rent be so late and everything. "
"You got a bum deal, kiddo. Your mom was a real piece of work. "
Lauren handed the manager a piece of paper. On it, shed written Angies home address and phone number, as well as the restaurants information. "Here," she said softly. "When my mom comes home, shell want to know where I am. " She heard the old neediness in her voice, that raggedy edge; she couldnt help it.
"When?"
"When it falls apart with Jake--and it will fall apart--shell be back. "
"And youll be waiting. " Mrs. Mauk made the words sound pathetically sad.
What could Lauren say to that? All of her life, shed been waiting for her mothers love. There was no way she could simply put her hope aside. It was a part of her, that faith, as ingrained as the beat of her heart or the flutter of her pulse. But it didnt hurt as much anymore; the sense of her loss was duller, almost distant.
She glanced down at Angie again, who was waiting to take her home.
Home.
Then she looked at Mrs. Mauk and said, "Im okay now. "
"Youre a good kid, Lauren. Ill think good thoughts. "
"Maybe Ill see you around. "
"I hope not, Lauren. Once youre out of this part of town, you stay out. But Ill be here if you ever need me. " With a last smile, Mrs. Mauk said good-bye.
In the hallway, Lauren grabbed her suitcase off the floor and hurried outside and down the steps.
"You want me to get the rest of it?" Angie asked, moving toward her.
"This is everything," Lauren said, patting the suitcase.
"Oh. " Angie stopped. The merest of frowns darted across her brow, then she said, "Well, then. Were off. "
On the drive through town and along the beach and up the hill, Lauren stared out the window, saying nothing. Every now and then the moonlight hit just right and she found herself staring into her own reflection. She couldnt help but see a smiling girl with sad eyes. She wondered if theyd always be sad now, always see the chances shed lost. That had certainly happened to her mother.
She cast a sideways glance at Angie, who was humming along with the radio. Probably she didnt know what to say either.
Lauren closed her eyes. She tried to imagine her life with Angie as her mother. Everything would have been softer, sweeter. Angie would never slap her pregnant daughter or run out on her in the middle of the night or . . .
"Here we are. Home sweet home. "
Laurens eyes popped open. Maybe shed fallen asleep for a minute there. It all felt like a dream, that was for sure.
Angie parked next to the house and got out. All the way to the front door and into the house, she talked over her shoulder to Lauren, who hurried along, dragging her suitcase.
". . . ovens about twenty degrees hotter than the indicator. No microwave. Sorry. These rusty old pipes . . . "
Lauren tried to take it all in. Besides the information Angie was giving her, she noticed a few other things. The windows needed to be washed, for instance, and there was a rip on the sofas arm. These were jobs Lauren could do to help out.
Angie kept talking as they went upstairs. ". . . great water pressure. I recommend lashing yourself down or youll fly out of the shower. The pipes ping a little at first, and definitely dont flush the toilet just before your shower. " She stopped, turned. "Its okay to share a bathroom, isnt it? If not--"
"Its fine," Lauren said quickly.
Angie smiled. "I thought so. Good. Well, heres your room. All of us girls used to sleep here. " She opened the door at the end of the hall.