Page 8 of Downpour

Chandler was passed out on the sofa with a mixing bowl of oatmeal resting on his stomach.

“No worries,” I chirped, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I'll just go by the store on my way back.”

Stepping over a bulging garbage bag, I tiptoed past the mess of last night’s party. Crushed beer cans skittered underfoot as I headed to the door.

“Don’t forget about the money,” Nick hollered as he scrolled his phone. “Cash this time. No checks.”

The sun baked my skin as I skipped to my car, curls bouncing with each step. Mondays were the best. They were a fresh start. A new chance. Full of exciting possibilities.

I slid into the driver’s seat and tossed my bag on the floorboard. The plastic flower pot on my dashboard wiggled as I turned the ignition.

“Aw, crap,” I muttered, noticing the low fuel light. “That’s fine, Madame Universe. Thanks for the excuse to grab a gas station snack.”

I swung into the nearest station, chatting up the friendly cashier about the soap opera playing on the TV behind the counter as I paid for a snack cake and a few gallons of gas.

Everyone was being so nice today. Even Nick had almost gotten my name right. Usually, it was "Brenda," "Bonnie," or some other "B" name. But today, he called me by my last name like I was one of the bros.

The house was really starting to feel like home.

It was fun to always be surrounded by people. I always had someone to talk to or hang out with. It was like living in a dorm.

My own little found family.

I parked in front of the Caring Hands office and skipped up the brick steps. The door's jingling bells announced my arrival as I stepped into the cool air conditioning.

“Good morning, Peggy!” I greeted the office manager cheerfully.

She looked up from her desk with a frown. “You’re late.”

“Am I?” I pulled out my phone to check the time. “Oh shoot, it's dead. Do you have a charger?”

Peggy’s eyebrow twitched.

“Oh my god! Your eyeshadow looks amazing today! The blue totally makes your eyes pop.”

She huffed. “Have a seat, Brooke.”

I plopped into the chair across from her desk, noticing a new addition. “Did you get a new plant? It's so cute! Does it have a name?”

Peggy sighed. “A name?”

“Yes! Plants have personalities. Naming them is a huge responsibility. It’s like naming a baby.”

Her fingers rattled against the keyboard. “I’m glad you brought up responsibility. Let’s talk about that.”

I bounced my feet and admired the cheery blue and yellow nail polish on my toes. It was bright like a sunny day against the dreary gray office carpet.

“Brooke,” Peggy snapped, jolting me from my wistful thoughts.

I looked up. “So, who am I going to see today?”

Her jaw was locked. “You’re going to have a light day. The only client you have is Mr. Wilson.”

“Light day? Awesome! There’s this antique store I’ve been dying to go to.” I propped my elbow on her desk and rested my chin in my hand. “What’s your day like? Do you wanna come with me? We could totally grab lunch and make an afternoon of it.”

She huffed. “Let me clarify. You only have one client left.”

I gasped. “Everyone got better? Even Mrs. Jones? I thought it would take months for her to recover. I mean, yeesh—breaking both your legs like that… But look at her go. She’s a rockstar!”

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