Page 9 of Mr. Delicious
Chapter 3
Wren
* * *
You know what went well with red blotchy eyes? Red lipstick.
Not.
Turned out neither did any of the make up in my bag. My foundation seemed too pink, my concealer too yellow and my powder too pale.Ghost pale.
Suddenly nothing worked for me. The same products I wore everyday had turned on me.
I cried for most of the night, fell asleep like that, and woke up late with tears in my eyes.
I didn’t get the chance to go outside and clean up the clothes on the lawn. I would have opted for staying in, but I couldn’t afford the luxury of making things worse.
There was however a beautiful surprise that hit me as I dashed out of the house to leave. The kind of surprise that touched my heart. My neighbors had cleaned up the lawn for me. The lawn was pristine and even the flowers were pruned. They’d also gone as far as to leave a goodies basket on the porch with a little card stating that I should call if I needed anything.
That was from Mrs. Withers and four others. They were all outside yesterday when everything went crazy. It was at least nice to know they didn’t judge me or think I’d lost my mind.
It was something, but not enough to calm the inner torment that seemed to have tripled over night.
When I got to the coffeehouse and looked at it, the thought of losing it rushed to the forefront of my mind, and the tears came again.
That was when I rushed in and ran straight into Stella’s arms.
Thank God she was here. She was always there when I needed her.
“Lord, honey, what happened?” Stella gushed, her voice laden with her Texan accent. “Sugar, just tell me what happened.” She held me tight.
“Oh Stella. Everything’s a mess.” I tried to keep my voice low so as not to attract attention. I hated crying, and I wasn’t the type to cry in public. There were a few people in here. Not that busy for this time of morning, but I was certain a few of my regulars had seen the state I was in when I came through the door.
“What happened?” Stella pulled away and looked at me with deep concern.
I didn’t know how I managed to tell her everything while keeping the tears under control, but I did.
“The asshole!” Stella snapped, balling her fists.
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you call me last night.”
Ishouldhave called her last night, but I just couldn’t. She hated Billy, always drilled it into my head that I could, and should do better. But I knew talking to her wouldn’t be as bad as the “I told you so” lecture I’d definitely get from my mother and sister when they found out what happened.
Not only did they hate Billy, but they thought I was incapable of making sensible decisions. Me, a woman of thirty years old. They still treated me like the baby. I was five years younger than Cora, my sister, and that meant being the subject of many family discussions.
“I’m sorry. I know I should have.”
“Did you call your parents, or Cora?”
I bit my lip and shook my head. My eyes fell to the square patterns on the table. I contemplated calling them to ask for a loan. Just something to help me cover Billy’s part of the loans until I figured something out.
Either of them would have been able to help. The question was more the case ofifthey would help me.
“I don’t think I can call them.” There, that was decided. I lifted my gaze back to hers. “You know how they feel.”
Stella immediately frowned, but then nodded in understanding.
