Page 12 of Echoes of You

“Maddie, you are the best news I’ve had all day. I’m Aspen. I manage the place for Sue. I mostly do the baking and manage the books, but I work a few morning shifts in the café, too.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She smiled. “You, too. I’ll pass your resumé on to Sue and see when we can get you scheduled for an interview.”

There was a little flicker of disappointment. Part of me had hoped that Sue would be in and would hire me on the spot. But it made sense that the owner wasn’t on-site all the time, especially if she had a manager. “I’m wide open, so just let me know when you want me to come in.”

“Hopefully, soon. Because I can’t keep running things in the afternoons with this one.” She inclined her head toward her daughter, deep red hair swinging with the motion.

Cady took that opportunity to attempt to climb onto a table to reach the napkin holder, and Aspen dashed toward her daughter. “See what I mean?”

“She’s keeping you on your toes.”

“That’s my job,” Cady said with a laugh as her mom grabbed her.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink before you go?” Aspen asked.

My stomach rumbled, but I shook my head. I had groceries at home and eating out was not in my budget. “I’m good. But thank you.”

She gave me a wave. “I’ll see you soon. And welcome home.”

“Thanks. Bye, Cady,” I called.

“Bye, Snow White. Tell all the animals I said hi.”

I chuckled as I headed for the front of the café. “I will. Especially the unicorn.”

Pushing open the door, I stepped back out into the sun and headed for my SUV. For the first time today, I felt a flicker of hope. If I could snag this job, I’d be able to really breathe for the first time since I got home.

I beeped my locks and climbed behind the wheel. The drive to the cabin took less than ten minutes—another upside of the location. I wouldn’t have to refill my gas tank often.

Everything in me tightened as I took in the vehicle sitting in front of my new home. That old Plymouth had to be held together with duct tape and superglue at this point. I idled in place for a count of ten, fighting the urge to turn right back around. Instead, I shut off the engine and slid out of the driver’s seat.

I studied the woman who leaned against the precarious porch railing, puffing on a cigarette. She looked the same, only about a decade older. The bleach was beginning to wreak havoc on her hair, leaving the ends brittle, and the lines around her mouth were so much deeper. But those eyes were just as hollow as I remembered.

“Heard you were back,” she rasped.

The stench of her cigarette wafted toward me, making my stomach pitch. That and the smell of stale alcohol were two scents I had no tolerance for. They took me back to a time I only wanted to forget.

“I’m back.”

My mom scoffed. “What’d you do to fuck things up with Mr. Moneybags?”

The wince was instinctive. I couldn’t help it. My mother only ever saw people as assets to be used and abused.

“Things just didn’t work out.”

My mom flicked the ash off her cigarette, letting it fall onto my steps. “Told you what would happen. That you’d be back here, your tail between your legs. And here you are.”

“Good to see you, too, Mom. I’m going inside. You should go home—if you’re still sober enough to drive.”

I started up the steps, giving her a wide berth. But she lashed out, gripping my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “You’re not better than me, girl.”

I turned to face her. “No. I’m not. But I’m not going to drown myself in booze because of it.”

I yanked my arm from her grasp and hurried to my door. Unlocking it quickly, I stepped inside. I wasn’t sure what it said about me—or my mom—that I immediately locked the door behind me.

Leaning against the wood slab, I sucked in a deep breath and waited. I heard muffled cursing, then an engine struggling to turn over. Finally, it caught. When the sounds of the car eventually faded, I let go of the air in my lungs but didn’t move.

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