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“Oh my God,” Pokey said suddenly. “I forgot. I finally did call Angela—my sorority sister, the one who’s a buyer for Belk?”
“Does she know Celia?” A
“She’d heard of her, but she didn’t really have any dirt on her. However, she did give me the name and phone number of a friend of hers who might know more about the details of Celia’s clothing business,” Pokey said. She reached in her pocket and handed over what looked like the page from a Bob the Builder coloring book that had been written on in red crayon.
“Her name is Katie Derscheid,” Pokey said, yawning widely again. “I wasn’t sure how to spell it. Just call her and mention Angela Hooker’s name.”
* * *
At some point in the evening, A
She drifted off to sleep again, but maybe an hour later was aware of a shaft of light streaming in through the doorway. She lifted her head off the pillow and spied a small, forlorn little body standing in the doorway.
It was Petey, clad in his cotton Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas, sucking his thumb and trailing a bedraggled but much-loved blue silk bordered blanket.
“Hey, buddy,” she said groggily. “What’s up?”
“I’m scared,” he said, moving his thumb aside only long enough to speak.
“Want me to walk you back to your bed?”
He shook his head side to side, vigororously.
“Want to go sleep with your mommy and daddy?”
“The baby is with Mommy and Daddy.”
She sighed and scooted over on the queen-sized bed. “Come on, then.”
Petey favored her with a tremulous smile before crawling up into the bed beside her. A
Maybe an hour later, she heard the bedroom door creak open. Looking up, she saw Pokey silhouetted in the doorway.
“Hey,” Pokey whispered. “Pete’s in there snoring so loud I can’t sleep. Okay if I bunk in with you?”
A
Pokey laughed softly, and walked around to the other side of the bed, yawning widely as she shifted her young son into the middle of the bed. Moments later, mother and son were breathing in tandem.
Once again, A
“Crap,” she muttered softly. Wrapping herself in the quilt from the foot of the bed, she tiptoed out of the room, headed for the sofa in the den. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would either find a house to buy or check into a room at the Pinecone Motor Lodge.
29
A
Sleep deprived, she turned over so that she was facing the back of the sofa. He shook her shoulder. “Curious George,” he repeated. She felt her head being struck with something, and reached back and caught his hand, which was holding the remote control.
“Petey! Leave A
A
The room was still in half darkness. “What time is it?” A
“A smidge after seven,” Pokey said. She sat on the edge of the ottoman, and A
“Curious George,” Petey said loudly. “I want Curious George.” He slung his damp, pee-scented blanket across her knees and climbed into her lap.
“Sorry,” Pokey said, deftly scooping the child off A
“Those are television shows?” A
“His favorites,” Pokey said, clicking on the television. “How come you wound up sleeping down here?”
A
“Sorry about that,” Pokey said with a laugh. “Welcome to my world.”
“Yeah, about that,” A
“Not in the least,” Pokey said. “I’d stay someplace else if I were you. Hell, I’d stay someplace else if I were me, but I think my husband might object.”
A
“I know you would,” Pokey said softly. “But you’ll have all that pretty soon, too, A
* * *
Later that morning, A
You can do this, she told herself. Celia is not the boogeyman. And you are not a quitter.
Heads turned to stare at her as she walked through the reception area and into the back office. Obviously, everybody had heard the rumors about her and Mason.
She smiled and ignored the stares and whispers. She found Voncile at her desk, stationed right outside Mason’s office. Voncile was on the phone, but when she looked up and saw A
He’d just slammed down the phone and was staring intently at the computer monitor on his desktop, frowning, when she walked in.
“Hey,” she said, feeling unaccountably shy. Hadn’t she come just a flashlight beam away from hot messy car sex with this man just a few days ago?
“Morning,” Mason said.
“Something wrong?”
Mason rubbed his chin and looked away. “Not good news. I’ve asked Davis to stop in for a chat, and I’ll fill you in when he gets here.”
He held up a can of Quixie. “Want one?”
She shuddered. “It’s a little early for me to start on the red stuff. What gives?”
He took a long chug of the soda. “Just getting myself back to the brand, like we talked about yesterday. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d actually really stopped and tasted our product.”
“Did you come to any conclusions?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “For one thing, I think it’s a pretty darned good waker-upper.”
“Better than coffee?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think we can claim that, based on the amount of caffeine in Quixie, but it’s just as good as some of these high-priced energy drinks that are killing us at convenience stores.”
“Hold that thought,” A
“You were right about the taste of celebration. I’m thinking Quixie reminds people of good times, happy occasions, boat rides on the lake, summers at the beach, campouts under the stars. Fun, wholesome stuff. That’s what we started out selling, that’s what we need to get back to.”