Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Chapter Thirteen
EVERLEIGH
I walk up the steps to the front door and swear I’m counting down the seconds until I collapse on that couch. My whole body feels like it’s been run over by a Mack truck, front and back. Turning the door handle, I really fucking hope it’s open so I don’t have to fish my keys out of my purse and make me do more work. Closing my eyes and pushing it open, I say a little prayer of relief. “Yesss,” I hiss as I step into the house and immediately kick off my sneakers.
“Hey,” my mother says from the kitchen when she looks over at the door.
“Hey,” I mumble, tossing my purse to the floor, next to my shoes, before dragging my ass to the couch and falling onto my back. “Don’t even try to tell me to move because I’m not doing it.”
I open one of my closed eyes when I hear my mother laughing from the kitchen. “You are lucky you took your shoes off.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re lucky I took my shoes off.”
“Are you going to have enough energy to get up and eat?” she asks, and I groan.
“I don’t even have enough energy to walk up those stairs”—I point at the stairs—“and take a shower.”
“A shower will make you feel better,” she advises as she stirs whatever it is in the pot that smells really good.
“This,” I say, pointing at the couch, “makes me feel better. Mom, I swear every single bone in my body hurts.”
“A nice hot shower will make all the aches and pains go away.” I groan when she says that, and I literally roll off the couch.
“You are ruining my peace,” I accuse, walking up the stairs with her laughing the whole time. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower before getting naked. I close my eyes and put my head back as the hot water runs all over my body. The aches and pains from literally gutting out the whole bakery in the past five days are unreal. From sunup to sundown, I’ve been in there along with a demolition crew that showed up the day after the fire. As soon as the fire marshal said we could go back in, which was about ten hours after the fire, they showed up. It took five seconds to realize Charlie had called them.
Walking into the bakery was something I don’t think I was ready for. Seeing everything my mother worked for in a pile of rubble was a bit too much. I swept the front of the bakery with tears running down my face. I don’t know how I am going to do it, but I am going to make it bigger and better. I kept repeating that to myself the whole week when all I wanted to do was go home and bury my head under the covers. Finally, the cleanup is done, and we have a meeting with the contractor this coming Monday.
I stay under the water until it turns warm, getting out and wrapping myself in a towel before walking out and heading to my bedroom. I start going through my clothes when I grab my robe and just slide it on before walking downstairs. “Don’t you feel better?” My mother looks over at me when she puts a plate on the kitchen table.
“No.” I pull out the chair and sit at the table, looking down at the plate of beef stew in front of me. My mouth suddenly waters as I wait for my mother to sit beside me. She puts down a basket of fresh rolls I know she made this morning because she never, ever buys frozen rolls.
Sitting down next to me, she looks at me and smiles. “You can eat,” she urges, picking up her fork. “Tell me about today.”
I grab my fork and stab a piece of meat and carrot. “Cleanup crew is finally done,” I say. “Place is down to the studs, as they said.”
“Took me ten years to build that thing up to what it was, and it took a week to gut it.” She shakes her head as she takes a bite of her food.
“We have to talk about what is going to happen,” I say softly. “I know you said you didn’t want to discuss it, but, Mom—”
“I know, I know,” she admits, “it’s just I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, why don’t we start with all the medical bills,” I start at the beginning. “They aren’t much since you have insurance, but it’s still a debt that has to be paid.”
She lifts her hand, waving it. “That bill is covered,” she states, and I nod. “I’m more worried about how I’m going to cover building a new bakery.”
“What did the insurance company say?” I ask, and she again makes no eye contact with me. She doesn’t want to show me how scared she really is. “Mom,” I snap. She looks up, and I see big tears in her eyes forming at the bottom. “What is it?”