“What did you bring me?” I drop the plastic piping bag of chocolate ganache on the table. “I’m starving.”
“He sent you his signature chicken salad with purple grapes, hand-pulled rotisserie chicken, and walnuts.”
“Ahh! He knows me so well.” I hold out my grabby hands.
“I stuck with the grilled turkey, Brie, and apple butter.”
My nose wrinkles and she rolls her eyes. “You seem so sophisticated with the cake flavors you invent, yet you can’t appreciate turkey, Brie, and apple butter?”
“Not a fan of the Brie.” I quickly unwrap my late lunch. “It’s too rich.”
“Wrong,” she gripes.
We each take a bite and emit our own groans of delight. Sweet grapes gentle the smoky chicken, and the walnuts cut the tang perfectly, keeping it all from being too overwhelming.
“André is a savory genius,” I say.
The texture is perfect, with just the right amount of crunch. Bits of celery add a zing of freshness.
“Oh no!” I’m out of my chair the second my eyes hit the clock. “I’m going to be late getting Coco!”
Running to the door, Tabby calls behind me. “I’ll deliver these three cakes and head home. See you tomorrow?”
“Sure—I can’t believe how fast this day went!”
I’m out the door and on Dixie standing in the pedals and pushing hard. Coco’s teacher Miss Pat gives me the stink-eye whenever I’m late, and even though it’s just a look, I always feel terrible.
A giggle bubbles in my stomach when I think about the day. I was so swamped with new business, I lost track of time. New business!
The words make me smile so hard. They mean success and potential and my dream coming true. I’ve got it all—my baby, my man… And I was too busy to miss Jackson!
At school I hastily shove my front tire in the bike rack, and race up the stairs. I’m greeted by the usual preschool scents—paste, cardboard, and play-dough, with a backdrop of Lysol.
Up ahead I see Miss Pat stepping out her door. The light is off, and her face is neutral. I frown when I see her slipping the key in the lock.
“Pat?” I jog to where she stands, my heart beating faster. “Hey! I’m here. Where’s Coco?”
“Oh!” She clutches her chest. “Emberly, you startled me.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
She does a little laugh. “You must’ve had a miscommunication. Your mother picked up Coco half an hour ago!”
“My…” A fist tightens in my chest, and I turn on my heel. “Thanks, Pat!”
I’m running for the door, hopping down the stairs, and pulling Dixie out of the bike rack in a blur. It didn’t even occur to me to update the pickup list at Coco’s school. Like an idiot, I thought my wishes would be honored. Anger fuels my speed, and I stand in the pedals, pushing hard. She won’t do this. I won’t be ignored.
Pushing harder, I take the left away from our small business district into the old, familiar neighborhood where I grew up. It’s all the same with the low-hanging branches and shadows falling across narrow roads. The nights here are so dark.
As I get closer to my mother’s house, I see something I don’t recognize. A state trooper vehicle is parked in the front, and panic seizes my limbs. The front tire of my bike wobbles, and I jump off, letting it fall to the sidewalk as I run the rest of the way.
Something’s wrong.
My hand is on the gate, and I’m flushed with panic. The last time I remember seeing a state trooper vehicle was the day my life changed…
The day my father died.
Minnie…