laugh. “Why the hell would Jay or Jeffers hire someone to spy on us?”
She jumped out of bed. “We own a haunted house and both of us have been visiting a witch. Imagine trying to explain all this to a judge. It wouldn’t be the first time that I have to sit in public and face my son bringing a legal challenge to my competence, and I don’t expect it would be the last.”
Jared kicked him in the butt. She can’t be trusted.
Mike squared off against her before he realized it. “I’m sick of you refusing to consider any possible solutions.”
“And I asked you not to go into that shop again. But you did.”
“I don’t want to fight, especially before bed. I came in to apologize, but it seems like you’re not accepting it.” Mike got the hell out, closed the door behind him, and exhaled to blow away whatever specter might be following him back to the guest room. Shut up, damn it. You’re making this worse. Leave me alone. Leave us alone .
Chapter 8
Premium cable “triple play”–that could be cut back. Too bad. Mae loved the cooking shows, and both Kevin and Mike enjoyed the sports. Gas and electric: all the rooms not in regular use were closed off. Doctor’s visits: unavoidable, the baby needed his shots. Mike needed to get that cough attended to.
The only way to make a sizable dent was to cut the payroll. But how could she ask Kevin and Mae to forego their salaries when they had taken on babysitting and fishing? All right, she paid for all their food, and they were living in the cottage rent free. The option was not having a house or a job.
It was the only way to cover this month’s bills. Unless . . . Damn, I need to pick up the phone and call Marianne Hartley to find out what’s going on. Why am I shy about asking for my own money?
The mailman’s Jeep whirred in the gravel down by the mailbox. Liz ran out to the side of the road, her heart thudding as hard as her footsteps on the frozen drive. An insurance bill sat on top of the pile.
Shit, that’s almost a thousand dollars I’d forgotten about. She was nauseous by the time she got to the bottom. Nothing from the lawyer, no checks, just credit card offers, catalogs with smiling middle-aged models, looking just like she used to, wearing flannel shirts and cashmere sweaters. And more bills. How long would her credit rating stay good? What was the grace period on the insurance policy?
Mike decided day-to-day whether he could work while battling that miserable cold. The schools hadn’t called. Was this some kind of conspiracy? Liz ran the rest of the way back, rubbing both arms, hunched forward against the wind off the bay–and the hurricane of troubles blowing her way.
She shuddered. Eddie was going to get sick, too. She’d have to raise the heat a few degrees or risk spending even more on doctor bills and medicines. Poor Mike was still hacking . . . Liz ran to her desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed the principal at Cape Cod Tech.
“Mr. Peabody’s office.”
She couldn’t recall the secretary’s name. “Hi, this is Liz Keeny. I don’t know if you remember me.”
“Of course, Mrs. Keeny. Let me put you through.”
Within a minute he picked up. “Hello, Liz.”
She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Mr. Peabody, I was wondering if everything was all right with my performance. I haven’t gotten any calls from anyone in the district.”
“You bailed me out of a tough situation, and I put out the good word. But we just got this mandate to decrease spending and are trying to cover classes with our regular staff. I was in the classroom myself last week. Let me call a few principals and see what I can do.”
The economy was whacking everyone in the butt. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure thing, Liz.” He hung up.
When didn’t she have a perpetual sense of despair, of desperation, pulling her down? Her heart pounded, her skin itched. Never in her entire life had Liz been so desperate for money.
Elisabeth
She jumped out of bed. “We own a haunted house and both of us have been visiting a witch. Imagine trying to explain all this to a judge. It wouldn’t be the first time that I have to sit in public and face my son bringing a legal challenge to my competence, and I don’t expect it would be the last.”
Jared kicked him in the butt. She can’t be trusted.
Mike squared off against her before he realized it. “I’m sick of you refusing to consider any possible solutions.”
“And I asked you not to go into that shop again. But you did.”
“I don’t want to fight, especially before bed. I came in to apologize, but it seems like you’re not accepting it.” Mike got the hell out, closed the door behind him, and exhaled to blow away whatever specter might be following him back to the guest room. Shut up, damn it. You’re making this worse. Leave me alone. Leave us alone .
Chapter 8
Premium cable “triple play”–that could be cut back. Too bad. Mae loved the cooking shows, and both Kevin and Mike enjoyed the sports. Gas and electric: all the rooms not in regular use were closed off. Doctor’s visits: unavoidable, the baby needed his shots. Mike needed to get that cough attended to.
The only way to make a sizable dent was to cut the payroll. But how could she ask Kevin and Mae to forego their salaries when they had taken on babysitting and fishing? All right, she paid for all their food, and they were living in the cottage rent free. The option was not having a house or a job.
It was the only way to cover this month’s bills. Unless . . . Damn, I need to pick up the phone and call Marianne Hartley to find out what’s going on. Why am I shy about asking for my own money?
The mailman’s Jeep whirred in the gravel down by the mailbox. Liz ran out to the side of the road, her heart thudding as hard as her footsteps on the frozen drive. An insurance bill sat on top of the pile.
Shit, that’s almost a thousand dollars I’d forgotten about. She was nauseous by the time she got to the bottom. Nothing from the lawyer, no checks, just credit card offers, catalogs with smiling middle-aged models, looking just like she used to, wearing flannel shirts and cashmere sweaters. And more bills. How long would her credit rating stay good? What was the grace period on the insurance policy?
Mike decided day-to-day whether he could work while battling that miserable cold. The schools hadn’t called. Was this some kind of conspiracy? Liz ran the rest of the way back, rubbing both arms, hunched forward against the wind off the bay–and the hurricane of troubles blowing her way.
She shuddered. Eddie was going to get sick, too. She’d have to raise the heat a few degrees or risk spending even more on doctor bills and medicines. Poor Mike was still hacking . . . Liz ran to her desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed the principal at Cape Cod Tech.
“Mr. Peabody’s office.”
She couldn’t recall the secretary’s name. “Hi, this is Liz Keeny. I don’t know if you remember me.”
“Of course, Mrs. Keeny. Let me put you through.”
Within a minute he picked up. “Hello, Liz.”
She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Mr. Peabody, I was wondering if everything was all right with my performance. I haven’t gotten any calls from anyone in the district.”
“You bailed me out of a tough situation, and I put out the good word. But we just got this mandate to decrease spending and are trying to cover classes with our regular staff. I was in the classroom myself last week. Let me call a few principals and see what I can do.”
The economy was whacking everyone in the butt. “I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure thing, Liz.” He hung up.
When didn’t she have a perpetual sense of despair, of desperation, pulling her down? Her heart pounded, her skin itched. Never in her entire life had Liz been so desperate for money.
Elisabeth
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