Big Girls Don’t Cry (Dundee, Idaho #6)(38)
Author: Brenda Novak

Sabrina squealed for a bite of Lucky’s ice cream, and Lucky promptly held it to the child’s cherubic mouth. “Celeste is so nice,” she said.

“Yeah, a real saint.” Reenie couldn’t help the sarcasm that entered her voice. She admired her mother. But there were times—like the past three weeks—when she wished Celeste could be a little less angelic. Reenie had enough things working against her right now without having to hear about Keith’s pain, which was all her mother seemed capable of talking about. Just because Reenie chose not to weep in front of everyone, Celeste assumed her daughter could withstand anything.

Lucky frowned as she watched Reenie destroy her sundae. “You used to like those.”

Not anymore. Nothing tasted the way it used to. “I told you I didn’t want it. It’s too cold for ice cream.”

“Are you kidding?” Lucky said. “If Harvey heats this place up any more, he’ll have to serve his ice cream in mugs.”

Outside, the wind bent the trees and rattled through the eaves. Reenie thought they might get the first snow of the year. But Lucky was right—it was plenty warm inside. “I guess I’m not hungry.”

Lucky held her baby’s hand to keep Sabrina from knocking the cone to the ground. “You don’t have to be hungry to eat ice cream. What have you had today?” she asked. “I mean as far as meals go.

“I don’t know,” Reenie said.

“Have you eaten?”

“Probably.”

“Probably? It’s after two.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Packing, mostly.”

Lucky hesitated, then wiped the chocolate from Sabrina’s chubby face. “When will you be moving to the farm?”

Reenie was grateful for the change of subject. She’d already heard enough about how she wasn’t taking care of herself from just about everyone she knew. “Not for a few more weeks. It’ll take that long for escrow to close.”

“Can I help you pack?”

“No.”

At this unequivocal response, Lucky sat back and arched an eyebrow at her. “No?”

Sabrina began to pound the table of her high chair, so Reenie gave her another bite of ice cream. “Packing gives me something to do,” she explained. She’d already scrubbed the house from top to bottom, reorganized the closets and cleaned out the garage.

“Your mother told me you’re planning to go back to work.”

“I am. I don’t have any choice.”

“You could always go job hunting while I pack for you.”

Reenie continued to stir her sundae. “I’ve already got a job.”

Lucky’s hand froze halfway to her baby’s mouth. “Really?”

“I’ll be teaching math at the high school.”

“That was quick,” she said, bringing the spoon the rest of the way when Sabrina squealed.

“They’ve been looking for someone to replace Mrs. Merriweather for two years, so it was easy.”

“Mrs. Merriweather? She was an old battle-ax when I had her in high school. Don’t tell me she died.”

Lucky had been back in town for only a year or so, but she’d grown up in Dundee and, like Reenie, had attended Dundee High. Because she was a few years younger, they hadn’t hung out together. Reenie doubted they would’ve been friends, anyway. Back then, Lucky had been too defensive and angry to make friends. Growing up with Red for a mother hadn’t been easy. Reenie, on the other hand, had been blessed with a good family. She’d been loved, even spoiled, and had been one of the most popular girls in school.

“No, she retired,” she explained. “Since then some of the other teachers have had to pick up the slack by teaching during their prep hour, so everyone was happy when I called.”

“Sounds perfect. When do you start?”

“After Thanksgiving.”

“That’s next week.”

It certainly didn’t feel as though the holidays were approaching. “I guess it is.”

“No, Sabrina.” Lucky guided her child’s hand away from the cone before she could crush it. “I’m glad it was that easy,” she said to Reenie. “With the year well under way, I thought it might be difficult to get a position before summer.”

Reenie thought about how smoothly the call had gone. “It probably didn’t hurt that my father helped raise the money to build the new gym.”

“Or that your brother was the principal donor, who also happens to be a national celebrity and coaches the varsity football team,” Lucky added.

Reenie shrugged. “Being associated with Gabe has its advantages.”

“If you say so,” Lucky said with a sigh.

Ice cream dripped off the end of Sabrina’s double chin. Reenie watched Lucky wipe it again. “He told me he was going to call you and apologize,” she said. “I guess he hasn’t gotten around to that yet, huh?”

“He called before Dad’s birthday.”

Reenie felt her eyebrows hike up. “He did? And?”

“I’ve heard more sincere apologies.”

“So you’re not willing to forgive him?”

“Why should I? The problem won’t go away if I do.”

“He was nice at the party,” she said, feeding Sabrina when Lucky stopped to wipe her hands. “You have to give him credit for trying.”

Lucky set the napkin aside. “No, I don’t.”

Reenie laughed for the first time in what felt like a really long while. “Poor Gabe.”

“Are you kidding me? Your brother’s fine,” Lucky said. “He’s reached career heights other men only dream about. He’s richer than Midas. He’s one of the handsomest men I’ve ever met. He gets along great with Dad, as long as I’m not around. And he’s happily married. You told me a few weeks ago that Hannah might even be pregnant. Maybe he can’t walk, but things could definitely be worse.”

“I guess it’s okay for you to feel the way you do,” Reenie said, letting Lucky take over with Sabrina. “He wouldn’t want you to pity him. He hates that.”

“He isn’t getting any pity from me. I don’t even like him.”

Reenie could tell that wasn’t true. But a woman wearing a plastic hair-protector came in and stole her attention. She recognized that hair-protector; she recognized that coat.