Page 46 of When It Rains He Pours

“Can you do one o'clock?”

“Yeah, yeah that works.”

“Great, and bring anything you have that will help.”

“I don't really have anything. He just threatened me, he told me he was the one who had ruined my shop.”

“Did he put his hands on you? Do you have any bruising or marks?”

“What?”My voice filled with confusion. “No, he didn't hurt me, he threatened me. He said he did it.”

“Well, I can take a formal statement, but without proof, it's a he said-she said deal.”

I could feel the frustration start to build inside me as his tone dropped, turning from inquisitive into hopelessness. “You need to do something, can't you bring him in? Arrest him? Charge him with harassment or something?”

“Miss Daniels, we can't just go around arresting people without proof.” Letting out an audible breath, he continued. “Just come in this afternoon, give a statement, and I'll follow up.”

Dropping my voice, I spoke low and deflated. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

I didn't even wait for a response, I hung up before he could say anything else. There was no belief in his tone, not one ounce that he thought B and B Realty was behind the break in.

But how could I blame him, I didn't think it was possible either. Slipping my phone back into my bag, I walked to my mom's. My hands were still shaking as I reached the house, my chest still painfully swollen and aching.

Climbing the steps, she opened the door with a blank gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you alright?” Holding out her arm, she guided me inside.

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I'm sorry, things have been crazy lately. My gallery got broken into and a lot of stuff got destroyed.”

“Oh my god, Glory.” Her voice was delicate and gentle as she walked me to the kitchen and sat me down. “When? Who? What happened?”

“Last week, it's all gone, Mom, all of it.” Resting my head in my hands, I closed my eyes. “But don't worry, everything will be fine.”

“God, you sound just like your father.” Cupping her hips, she stared at me. “How about some coffee? You want some coffee?”

Shaking my head, I tried to smile, but I knew it looked as fake as it felt. Wiping my fingers down my cheeks, I sighed. “No, that's okay. I can't stay long, I have to get back to work.”

“Glory, you can't go like this. Why don't you stay and I'll make you something to eat.”

“No, really, I need to go.” Taking the money out, I laid it on the table. “Things might be tight for a bit, but it'll be fine, I promise.” Standing up quickly, I tugged my bag up my arm, holding the thick strap.

My mom stared at me, folding her arms over her chest, her eyes full of worry. “I don't like this, I don't like seeing you like this.”

Leaning in, I kissed her cheek. “I'm alright, Mom, I'll call you later.”

Looking over my shoulder as I stepped outside, my mother walked up and held the door. Leaning her head against the door frame, she gave me a half smile.

Smiling back, I flicked my eyes away from her. I couldn't watch the sadness in her lips as she made that smile, knowing that she was just as concerned as I was.

But our concerns were for different reasons. She feared for me, my peace of mind, my safety; and I feared the idea of her having nothing, of losing the home my father fell in love with, the one he took his last breath in.

She had been a stay at home wife, caregiver, and mother for as long as I could remember. I loved my mom, but she had absolutely no skills. It sounds harsh when I put it that way, but it's the truth.

My father had taken care of her, he had been the sole provider. And when he passed, that was it. Her money dried up instantly. It was horrible.

She was too young to collect social security from my father, they denied her without pause. The golden age for that was sixty.

She had no computer skills, no college degree, no work history outside whatever she did in her youth. The cooking, the cleaning, the food shopping; you name it, if it was a household duty, her shoes filled it.

That's where I come in, we had been staying just above water, my art had been enough to make sure neither of us went without. I kept pushing, I kept painting, I kept going; and with all that hard work I was finally able to open my gallery and create a life for both of us.

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