Page 49 of Already Home

“You’ll love it.”

Now she was curious and made a note to check out the label,then go online later to find out what a bottle of Cliff’s favorite winecost.

“Are you planning on being in the Austin area long enough tobuy a house?” Violet asked when they were alone.

“I’m hoping to be. My boss has made it clear he wants me herefor at least ten years. I’ve looked around at several of the neighborhoods andthey’re family friendly. I want a nice house, though. With lots of room.”

“Do you want a family?” She couldn’t remember the last time aguy talked so easily about his future. Most of them were reluctant to make plansmore than two days in advance.

“Two kids, maybe three. A boy and a girl, for sure. A dog.” Heducked his head. “I know what you’re thinking. Pretty boring, suburban dreams. Ican’t help it. I’m a guy who likes the ’burbs. It’s where I grew up.”

“I’m not thinking that at all,” Violet admitted, a littlesurprised to feel herself longing for what Cliff mentioned.

A husband and kids. She’d never seen herself witheither—probably because girls like her didn’t get happy endings. But she’d beenchanging her life for a while now. Making better choices. That had been thehardest thing—walking away from her old way of life and taking responsibilityfor acting differently. She’d done it day by day, choosing what was right forher future rather than what was expedient. Maybe Cliff was her reward for thehard work.

“I hope you get exactly what you want,” she added, smiling athim.

“I will. I always do.”

The server appeared with the wine and made a show out ofuncorking it.

Cliff tasted the small amount she poured. Violet braced herselffor a whole swirling, twirling, sucking dance, but he only sniffed it once, tooka sip, then nodded.

“Very nice.” He looked at Violet. “I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

The server poured wine into both their glasses, then left.

Cliff waited while Violet tasted the wine. She didn’t knowenough to say anything other than, “It’s nice,” which was true.

“You like it?” He sounded anxious.

“Very much.”

“Good.” He leaned toward her. “I’ve done all the talking sofar, Violet. Tell me more about yourself. Where did you grow up?”

“A small town in Louisiana,” she admitted.

“You don’t have much of an accent.”

“I can when I want,” she said in a drawl, then shifted back toher regular speech. “I watched a lot of movies when I was young and I wanted tosound like them.” Rather than her mother, she added silently. “I had a typicalchildhood.” She smiled as she lied.

Why get into the truth? It wasn’t early dating material. Itmight never be something she told anyone. Why share that her mother had been thelocal town whore? That when Violet was two weeks shy of her fourteenth birthday,a man in town had given her mother a few hundred dollars for the privilege ofraping her daughter.

Oh, it wasn’t called rape. Her mother had promised her aspecial night. Violet had seen enough of her mother’s business trade to knowwhat was going to happen. Running away had earned her a whipping that had putoff the deflowering a good month, but eventually the old man had taken her to asmall house in a neighboring town and done his thing.

She’d cried and screamed until he hit her so hard, she wasnearly unconscious. When she got home, her mother gave her fifty dollars andtold her to go buy herself something pretty.

Instead, she’d saved the money, stolen from her mother when thewoman was drunk and had run away the summer she turned fifteen.

She edited as she spoke. “I moved to New Orleans when I wasstill a teenager.”

“Great city. Did you like living there?”

She faked a smile. “Sure. There’s always something going on.Lots of tourists.”

Her time in the city was mostly a blur. She’d discoveredgetting high made her life bearable, and she’d been young enough and prettyenough to find men who were willing to finance her habit. She’d mostly servicedthe tourist trade, but had a few local regulars.

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