Page 81 of Full Circle

Thankfully one of the guys from the mechanic’s shop stepped inside, the bell twinkling through the restaurant. He greeted me with a request for coffee before settling into his favorite booth.

Work was the distraction I always needed. Neither one of them was going to let me off the hook any time soon, and none of the answers I had to give them would satisfy them anyway. The truth was I had no idea why I acted so recklessly last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. All I wanted was the time and space to figure out why that man reminded me so much of Wes. Memories were hazy at best, and it wasn’t like the lights were on or anything that could have made his features stand out. He had dark hair while I was fairly certain Wesley still sported light blonde locks, although it had been a while since I scoured the internet for his modeling shots. It was too painful seeing all the tall, thin models and celebrities he was rumored to be dating.

And yet, for the rest of the day, Wesley was all I could think about. I saw him in the face of everyone who walked by The Comfy Cushion. His megawatt smile beamed up at me from every table I greeted. Even picking up orders from Jesse in the window reminded me of the food Wesley used to make as he poured over my mama’s recipe book like a fiend.

He was definitely present in my daughter’s face when she burst inside late in the evening and triumphantly waved a flyer over her head.

“Mama, I was invited! I was invited!”

I smiled at her eagerness, despite being clueless to what she celebrated. “Invited to what, honey?”

Desiree and Hillary swept in behind her. My stepmother cast a long, calculating look around the empty dining room. It instantly sent me on high alert because nothing good had ever followed a look like that.

“Iris was invited to audition for the Boston Ballet School,” Hillary explained. She gripped my daughter’s shoulders in a possessive way that made me grit my teeth.

Desiree smiled. “And she’s going to get it because she is the very best!” Both of them smiled down at Iris, who grinned at their praise.

My heart sank, however.

“That sounds expensive…” I hesitated. It was a war between wanting to encourage Iris’ dreams while also being realistic about our financial situation.

My stepmother snorted in derision. “Yes, I can see why that would be concerning since you still haven’t managed to get more business. This place is turning into a dump!” She waved her arms around, gesturing to the empty tables. Every worn surface, every torn cushion, all the cracks and divots stood out like sore thumbs. She was right. It was turning into a dump.

Hillary let out a dramatic sigh. “What would poor Doug say if he were still alive?” She shook her head sadly. “He worked so hard to make this place a success and it’s gone downhill so fast.”

Shame burned a hole straight through my chest. Daddy must have been rolling in his grave to see how I let things go. No matter what I did, I never worked hard enough to make a difference. It was all my fault.

“He certainly never took a night off to go drinking in Savannah,” commented Desiree with a seething look in my direction.

Iris watched their commentary volleyed to me with wide eyes. Her good news was shadowed by my failure, and I was crushed to ruin this moment for her. I needed to redirect the focus back on her.

“So tell me about this audition!” I gushed.

That was all the prompting she needed to launch into an excited tale of the Boston Ballet School’s prestigious history, how her dance instructor had filled out the nomination form, and how she wanted to attend more than anything in the world. It was quite an honor, I gathered, for Iris to be invited to audition at such a young age. The school had direct ties to the Boston Ballet Company, which was considered one of the top ballet companies in the United States. Iris would be given opportunities to participate in the Company’s shows by attending Boston Ballet School.

Keeping a mental accountant’s ledger running, the zeroes just grew and grew the more she talked. There was no way I could afford something like that even if the restaurant had been steady. We were already too far behind on all the bills as it was.

Hillary procured a pink bag that I recognized from one of the ballet boutiques in downtown Savannah. All of their merchandise tended to be on the costly end of the spectrum. It was nothing any of us should have been able to afford.

“And because we want to wish you luck, Gigi and I got you this!” chorused Hillary, holding out the bag with a flourish.

Iris squealed. Inside were two new leotards, one a soft sage green and the other a pale shade of lavender, a floral chiffon skirt to match, and two sets of knitted leg warmers of the same colors. As she withdrew the final item from the bag, the receipt fluttered out onto the floor. I picked it up only to grip the counter for support. The total read $468.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I whispered hastily to my stepmother.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but she stepped far enough away that I could continue to whisper without Iris overhearing.

“Desiree, how did you get the money to pay for this?” I held the receipt up to her face as proof. “This is too much!”

One fake eyebrow arched and served as my only warning. “Excuse me,” she hissed, “but how I spend my money on my daughter is none of your business!” The emphasis on Iris being hers was intentional—my second warning. She could take my daughter away in the blink of an eye because Iris belonged to her.

Like always, I deflated. Iris was the ultimate weapon and Desiree could rule me with an iron fist if she so chose. Nothing was worth putting her in jeopardy.

My stepmother sneered at me. “Don’t you ever question me like that again. I could have you out on the street with the snap of my fingers.” Her face leered at me in disgust before returning to Iris to preen over her new dance attire.

Hyperventilating wasn’t going to get me anywhere, but it was hard to keep the panic at bay. While we never got along, Desiree had never outright threatened me like that before. She had to be furious with me over going out last night. Any time I exercised any kind of freedom or independence, she tended to lash out. Though it was never this severe.

Instead of freaking out, I did what any other mother would do. I plastered a smile on my face, blinked away the tears, and returned to my kid. Iris only needed to see how proud I was of her accomplishment.

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