Taking Back Mary Ellen Black. Lisa Childs

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      He laughed. “Mrs. Klansky won’t be there. And they really do seem to have fun.”

      I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had fun on my own. I had fun with my children. Although Amber spent most of her time in a book, she could be relied on for an occasion amusing comment, and little Shelby was a regular comedienne. But I needed my children to rely on me, not me on them. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

      And that night I would tell both my parents that I wasn’t coming back to the butcher shop to work. After what I’d seen in my few weeks of employment, I probably wasn’t coming back to purchase anything from it any time soon, either.

      The bell dinged again. “Take care of this last person and take off. I’m slipping out back a minute…”

      “To check your oil,” I finished for him as he reached for his cigarettes.

      “Don’t tell your—”

      “Mother,” I finished again with a giggle.

      “You two still do that,” said a familiar voice.

      Any fleeting amusement fled. I could handle playing bridge with Mrs. Klansky better than I could handle this. Having my oldest, closest friend from school see me down and out. Jenna O’Brien. Jenna wouldn’t fantasize about Eddie’s dick falling off if he’d cheated on her. She would have grabbed up Daddy’s meat cleaver and taken care of that problem herself. Despite being petite and gorgeous, Jenna had balls and if her husband had cheated on her, she’d have his in a glass jar to warn anyone else from making the same mistake. God, I’d missed her.

      “Still do what?” I asked like it hadn’t been nearly eleven years since I’d talked to her last…shortly after my wedding, in which she’d been my maid of honor, when she’d helped me into my dress and told me point blank that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Was she back in my life now to say I told you so? Should I have listened to her? Should I have had her help me back out of that hypocritical white dress and out of the church? She’d offered, and I’d turned her down.

      “That thing you and your dad always do…” I caught the wistfulness in her voice. Jenna’s dad had died when she was eight.

      I shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. “Yeah, some things never change. Guess it’s just a bad habit.”

      “Heard you kicked your other bad habit.” Like on my wedding day, she was offering me the gracious way out.

      Waddling down the aisle five months pregnant, I’d displayed little grace then. Why start now? And since I’d chosen Eddie over her, Jenna deserved to gloat. “Kicked him? I wish I had. But hell, no, I packed his bags so he could kick me aside for a twenty-year-old cocktail waitress. I actually packed his bags for him.”

      And then, bracing myself for pity or triumph, I met her gaze. I didn’t have to guess what was in her big brown eyes, the amusement bubbled out with her laughter. “You packed his bags?”

      “I thought he was going on a golf trip. Never saw it coming.”

      She shook her head, brown curls dancing around her shoulders. “You saw it coming on your wedding day. You just didn’t want to face it.”

      “So you’ve come to say I told ya so?” I got up the nerve to ask.

      A trace of bitterness passed through her dark eyes. I’d hurt her all those years ago, and she hadn’t deserved it for just being a friend. She sighed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

      “Fun?” There was that word again.

      “Naw, that’s not why I came.”

      Enviously I eyed her tiny figure. Obviously she hadn’t come for the fatty pork chops. “So why did you come?”

      “I was playing bridge at your house—”

      “You were?” I had imagined a group of women closer to Grandma’s age.

      She sighed. “Yeah, Mom suckered me in, and I had a minute. Anyway they sent me to get you.” No doubt she wouldn’t have come for me on her own. Unlike the other old neighbors who had wanted to rub my nose in my misfortune, Jenna hadn’t even cared that much…not after all these years. “We could use another person or two.”

      “For bridge?”

      She glanced toward the back door and lowered her voice. “For poker. You in? I heard you could use the money.”

      Following suit, I lowered my voice. “They play for money?”

      She laughed. “Hell, yes!”

      Damn. Did I know Mom and Grandma at all? Apparently not. “Well…”

      “Or would you rather stay here for all the neighbors to wallow in your misery?”

      “You know about that?”

      “I grew up only a few doors down from here. I know about that.” She’d had her own misery for the neighborhood to wallow in. Her old man hadn’t exactly died from natural causes, unless it was natural for a man to drunkenly fall down his own basement stairs and bust his head open. And then there were the skeptics who had always wondered if Jenna’s mom hadn’t gotten sick of being knocked around and knocked him for once…right down those basement stairs to the unforgiving surface of the concrete floor.

      “So you coming? Or you love working here too much to lose the apron for a couple of hours?” Jenna. Eleven years hadn’t smoothed her sharp edges any, edges she’d no doubt developed to fend off the pitying pats of the neighborhood, for the poor little O’Brien girl.

      Even after all this time, I could be more honest with her than I could be with my family…or sometimes, myself. I lowered my voice more. “I hate working here.”

      “Figured as much. You try to get something else yet?”

      I nodded. “I’ve got an interview at Charlie’s Tavern.”

      “So you like waiting tables? Is that what you want to be when you grow up?”

      “I don’t know what the hell I am now, let alone what I want to be.”

      The amusement left, and concern flooded her eyes. “Ah, Mary Ellen…”

      “Don’t feel sorry for me. I feel sorry enough for myself,” I admitted.

      “And working here isn’t going to help that.” She blew out a breath. “And if you think it’s bad here, Charlie’s is the neighborhood bar. It’ll be worse there. I have a job opening. Mom said I should mention it to you.”

      Jenna had always been close to her mom, even more so after her dad’s death. She was fiercely protective of the woman who’d been through so much. And she never disappointed her. If Mrs. O’Brien hadn’t told her to, Jenna wouldn’t have brought up the job to me. Probably wouldn’t have come to see me at all.

      She hurried to add, “It’s only temporary. My processor— I’m a mortgage loan officer, by the way—”

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