Page 53 of Finders Keepers

“Last night,” I say, wiping tears from my cheeks with trembling fingers, “I found out that he forced his way into his own sister’s house and took off with her phone. She had to get a new one and she called to let me know.”

Her eyes flash with anger and she takes her glasses off dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her cardigan, but her voice remains steady, calming, like a lighthouse in a storm. “None of this is your fault, Bailey. That man’s actions are his own, every single one of them.”

“I should’ve left sooner. I shouldn’-”

“No ma’am,” she interrupts, her tone brooking no argument. “You left when you could, when you found the strength. That’s what matters.” She stands up and walks to her roll top desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a crisp business card. “Now, this here is Dale Loxely. He’s done some filings for me in the past. He owns his own firm up in Dallas. He’s the best bulldog in town and he’s going to help you get free of that man legally.”

I stare at the card, my throat tight with emotion.

“Ms. Lucy, I can’t afford-”

“I didn’t ask if you could afford it.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m taking care of it, and I won’t hear another word about it. Dale will get your paperwork started. That man won’t be able to come within five hundred yards of you or that precious little girl.”

Fresh tears fall as I stare at the business card in my hand, the embossed letters blurring through my tears. A weight twists uncomfortably in my chest. A feeling I know too well. The weight of being a burden.

“This is too much. I can’t let you do this.” I push the card back across the table. “You’ve already given us a place to stay. You’re helping with Sophie… I’m already taking up too much of your life.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t take the card. “Taking up space? Bailey, that’s nonsense.”

“But it’s your money, your time. I should be fixing this myself.” My voice cracks. “It’s my mess.”

“Sweetheart.” She puts her glasses back on and fixes me with a look that stops my protest cold. “First of all, this isn’t a mess you made. It’s something that happened to you.”

I look down at my hands, still trembling slightly.

“Second, I’ve got more money than I know what to do with and no children of my own to spend it on.” She pushes the card back toward me. “And third, nobody, and I mean nobody, gets through this life without help.”

“But-”

“Did you think I got where I am all by myself?” She gestures around her kitchen. “This house? My business? All the good things in my life came with someone else’s fingerprints on them. That’s just how living works.”

I bite my lip, fighting against years of being told I was too needy, too much, always wanting things I didn’t deserve.

“The day might come when you can help someone else who needs it,” she continues. “That’s how we balance the scales. Not by refusing help when we need it most.”

A small sob escapes me as I finally take the card, holding it like something precious.

“Now please drink your tea before it gets cold,” she says, reaching across to pat my hand. “And remember, accepting help isn’t weakness. Sometimes it’s the bravest thing you can do.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You thank me by living your life and being happy,” she says simply, then a small smile plays at her lips, bringing warmth to her eyes. “Speaking of happiness, how was that date with our handsome veterinarian last night?”

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, grateful for the change in subject, tears slowing.

“It was… nice.”

“Nice is a good start.” She says.

“He was a gentleman the whole time.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she says, settling back in her chair.

I trace the rim of my mug again. “He didn’t push,” I say quietly. “Our hands touched, and he… let it be my choice to pull away or not.”

She nods, knowing that it’s more than what I’ve said.

“I haven’t told him about Matt,” I admit. “I snapped at him when he asked what brought us here. I was sure he’d be angry or push for answers, but he just… apologized for bringing it up.”

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