Naughty Or Nice. Sherri Browning Erwin
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Naughty Or Nice - Sherri Browning Erwin страница 4
Название: Naughty Or Nice
Автор: Sherri Browning Erwin
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежная фантастика
isbn: 9781420107746
isbn:
My mind latched on to the part about the check coming on the first of the year. As in, after Christmas. What good would it do me then? I had to make it through six weeks when I knew Kate’s idea of “a little extra for holiday spending” wouldn’t begin to cover all the things I planned to buy for the kids. I miscalculated when the check was due to come in, my own stupid mistake. Again.
My lip started to quiver and I took a shaky breath. As if sensing my desperation, Ellie raised a chubby fist, held out her missing woobie, and smiled as if she were offering me the moon in consolation.
I couldn’t help but smile back. I might have been lacking in finances, but I had a little angel niece who loved me and two growing angels of my own at home. I could be the biggest failure in the world, with no money to buy presents, and the children in my life would always love me. Maybe my situation wasn’t so dire after all.
I thought the worst of my day was behind me.
And then Kate dropped me off and I entered my bedroom in time to catch my adolescent son trying on my lipstick.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said, quickly putting the cap back on my favorite tube of Lancôme’s Ginger Flower.
“What does it look like?” I asked, thinking it looked like I might have to hide the new boots, and any of the designer dresses he might decide to try on with them. At twelve, he was barely old enough to go to the movies alone with a girl, let alone consider his dating preferences.
“I’m not gay,” he said matter-of-factly as he reached for the eyeliner. “I’m going Goth.”
“Goth? Like, walking dead, black is the new black, vampire wannabe stuff?”
“Like, Shelley Miles is experimenting with becoming a witch and she needs a warlock stuff. I like her, Mom. I think if I do the Goth thing, she may get interested.”
I stifled a sigh of relief and took a seat on the edge of my bed. “So you’re wearing makeup for a girl?”
“You got it.” He pointed at me with two fingers and a cocked thumb, game show host style. “A really, really hot girl. You’ve seen her, Mom. She’s got—” His hands moved to his chest, then dropped as if he’d suddenly thought better of offering a vivid explanation. “Style. She’s got style.”
“Big bundles of it, I’ll bet.” I rolled my eyes. My little boy was growing up. As much as I hated the idea of him leaving the house in makeup, my protests would most likely drive him to do it behind my back. “Stay away from my good cosmetics. I’ll go to CVS and get you some makeup of your own, if you like.” Tomorrow. Once I got my car back.
“Good idea.” He turned back to the mirror. “I don’t think Ginger Flower’s my color. Maybe they have black. I could deal with black lipstick.”
If Patrick were here, he would be freaking out, but was it so different from the eighties, after all? I’d been a Duran Duran fan. Those boys knew their way around a makeup palette.
“Black might be a little harsh with your fair coloring.” I’d pictured having this conversation with my daughter in a few years, but never with my preteen son. Fortunately, Spencer tired easily of trends. He would be done with the Goth makeup and on to the next big thing in a matter of weeks, maybe days depending on the reactions of other kids at school. “We’ll run out tomorrow and try a few on. For now, I really need a nice long bath. Scoot. And make sure the dogs get out for a walk.”
Once Spencer shut the door behind him, I stripped. I needed a long bath to think about how I was going to pay for lipstick among other necessities like food, gas, and Miss Clairol Strawberry Sunset number 116. My roots were beginning to show.
It was time to face the cold, hard facts. I needed to get a job.
The phone rang as I was about to sink chin-deep into bubbles.
A glance at the caller ID told me it was Kate. I dried my hands and picked up. The sound of Ellie crying in the background told me why she was calling before she even said a word.
“I think she may be teething,” I offered. “Her gums felt hard in the car tonight.”
“Plus, she’s drooling all over the place. And the crying.” Kate’s voice broke off in a groan. “But isn’t she a little young for teething?”
“A little, yeah, but they all go at their own pace. Spencer and Sarah were both late bloomers, but Ellie has her own style.” If she was anything like her mother. “Where is she now?
“I put her in her crib for a few minutes. I need to know what to do, Ben. You’re the expert.”
I smiled. You’re the expert. This was a big admission from the perfect sister. I inhaled deeply of my favorite almond coconut bath bomb from Basic as I took a minute to appreciate the comment. Kate had always been the overachiever, the smart one. I was the “pretty” one. Finally, there was an area in which she could recognize my superiority in something more substantial than hair and makeup.
“Frozen bagels,” I said, after a minute. “The topical ointments never seemed to do much for the kids, but giving them something substantial to gnaw really helped.”
“Frozen bagels? What if she bites off a piece and chokes?”
“With swollen gums? Yeah, that’s going to happen. Look, I got it from T. Berry Brazelton. He knows his stuff. It worked for Spence and Sarah. If that makes you nervous, you could try a frozen washcloth.”
“Okay.” Kate sounded a little nervous. “I’ll go try that.”
“Call later if you need more help. You two can always come and sleep over here.”
Just after Ellie was born, Kate spent the night quite frequently. Kate’s house was only a few miles away and nothing rendered her near helpless quite as effectively as her own screaming child. With me, the expert, close at hand, she never really had to go it alone for long. Fortunately, Kate kept her own hours at the office and she was often able to return the favor and pick my kids up from school in the event that my Pilates class should go long or, more often, I decided to stop and pick up a new outfit on the way home.
I clicked the phone off and dropped it on the towel at the edge of the tub. As good as it was to have a sister to share in the parenting, she was not a substitute for a real partner. I slid down into the bath, felt the silken water smooth across my thighs, and ached for my missing husband, my dear departed Patrick.
I remembered the way he used to come home late from work sometimes to catch me just slipping into the bath. He would stand just there, across the room in the doorway, with a smile of appreciation crossing his lips, making the freckles dance across his crinkled nose. God, I missed those freckles.
More than just missing my husband, my best friend, I missed being loved. I missed being kissed in a way that made a tingle go right down my spine. I missed feeling like a woman. I was almost thirty-three years old, for goodness’ sake, and the mother of two. I loved my kids, but would they be my entire life now? Was I ever going to have something for me, just for me, ever again?
СКАЧАТЬ