Page 20 of Touch the Sky
“Um, yeah,” I answer. My throat has gone dry, and I have to cough too. “Thanks for, uh, that.”
She jerks her chin in a sharp nod, still not looking at me.
“Mom! Seriously! You have to come up here!”
I seize the opportunity to rush away like Shel is screaming for her life. I take the steps two at a time, and I’m panting before I’ve even reached the top.
What the hell was that?
It’s not like I’mintoJacinthe. If anything, I’m a little afraid of her. For someone who can’t be much more than five feet tall, the woman sure can make some noise. Watching her stomp down the warpath to get Joaquin the other day made me realize I wouldnotwant to be on Jacinthe’s bad side.
I’m probably just tired. I’m stressed and sleep-deprived. I keep spacing out, and I just happened to space out in Jacinthe’s eyes this time.
With that sorted, I focus on the task at hand: the ten year-old yanking on my arm to drag me up the final step into the loft.
“This would be my room, right?” Shel asks. “Isn’t it cool? We could put twinkle lights in the ceiling, and Gabrielle says she has a little bench I could put in the window for a reading spot. It’s so aesthetic!”
I have to swallow a laugh at that. Lately, everything is an ‘aesthetic’ for Shel.
“It is cool,” I agree, taking a moment to properly check the place out.
The loft would be any kid’s dream come true. It’s like an indoor tree fort, with glossy wood-paneled walls, exposed beams in the sloped ceiling, and a cute little bay window just big enough for a kid-sized bench to fit underneath. The room is just begging for some tie dye sheets, a bean bag chair, and the already requested twinkle lights twined around the ceiling.
Shel is beaming like she can see the scene playing out in the same Technicolor I can, the vague sketches of what a life here could look like getting filled in with more vibrant detail by the second.
“Are we gonna live here?” she asks.
The ‘yes’ is on the tip of my tongue, dangling like a skydiver ready to take the leap, but for some reason, I can’t let it fall.
Gabrielle comes over from where she’s been swiping at some dust on the windowsill and gives me a pat on the shoulder.
“You don’t have to decide today,chérie. Think about it as long as you want.”
I try to tell her there’s not much else to think about, but my thoughts are echoing too loud with other words.
What’s the catch?
This place is everything I need and more. There’s got to be a catch.
Chapter 6
Tess
The phone number from the rental advertisement at Café Cloche sits folded up in my wallet for three whole days before I pull it out again.
I’ve just wrapped up my final farrier appointment of the day, and I find it while thumbing through my wallet to look for my loyalty card at the gas station. I run my fingertip over the printed numbers and smooth out the crease down the middle.
I keep staring at the phone number as I fill the tank, the scent of gasoline wrinkling my nose. I’m just outside La Cloche. It can’t be more than a fifteen minute drive to La Grange Rouge.
I wasn’t planning on working at all today. It’s Saturday, and being my own boss means I can prioritize Shel’s schedule more than I could working for somebody else back home, but I got a voicemail at the crack of dawn from a panicking mother trying to tell me something about her daughter’s pony throwing a shoe just in time for an important horse show today.
I was already awake. The whole housing insecurity thing has made sleeping past six in the morning impossible. It took a few minutes on the phone to get the full story out amidst the mother’s hyperventilating, and by the time I ended the call, I knew I couldn’t leave her hanging.
My own mom arrived for a visit with us on Thursday to help me put an end to this housing search. After finding her also awake in her room and triple-checking that she didn’t mind doing the morning solo with Shel, I headed out.
The click of the gas pump cuts through my thoughts. I wince when I see the price on the screen. My loyalty card won’t make much of a dent in that.
Once I’ve paid and climbed back into the truck, I set the phone number on the dashboard like a parking pass. My eyes keep snapping from the road to the slip of paper as I pull out of the gas station’s lot.
