Page 45 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Zoe looked at me like I was an alien with two heads.“Mom?It’s an ice cream shop.It’s not some hotbed of organized crime or even a place that that kind of people frequents.I’ll be safe and Mayor Hank is right there.”
That was a good argument.Hank waved from his rocking chair parked out front.But I had to try one more time to dissuade her from taking such a public-facing job.“I suppose your boyfriend is working there.”
Gah.Sixteen, a boyfriend, and slowly but surely flying away from the little nest I’d built for her and me to hide in.
Her face flushed red.She got that from me.“Sometimes, but it’s a real job.I’m not taking it to flirt with him.”
“You have a real job that lets you take off summers,” I reminded her.Maybe I shouldn’t remind her of that.So far, I’d lucked out and had a wonderfully obedient daughter.
“Checking on houses isn’t a real job.”
“I beg your pardon?”Crystal and I made a decent income by “checking on houses.”The more people discovered our pristine little island, the less pristine it got, but the more money we made.So far, growth had slowed to a few dozen mansions on the south-facing coastline.There was one practically in our backyard.Two more stood on the point by the cove.But there was a plan for about seventeen developments in the next five years which would hem us in on the east.That I didn’t like.It felt like there was a noose slowly wrapping around my neck.And I got more nervous with each new stranger.But short of moving to climates even colder than this, it was the plight of every coastal town, eventually.
Global warming couldn’t come fast enough.And with that morbid thought, I addressed Zoe’s biggest issue.“I don’t want you walking to and from there alone.”
“I've got my intermediate license.Let me borrow the car.”
My heart skipped.“That leaves me without one.”
“Duh.”
What if we have to run?I swallowed that fear down.“I should drop you off and pick you up.”
“No!It’s only for this summer.I’ll have my own ride next summer, promise.”
My motherly radar blipped on a target.“Oh, I get this now.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”Chris had a motorcycle.And like most things inherited, Zoe loved that more than her boyfriend.Although, maybe the whole falling for biker bad boys was my fault.
“Mom…” she warned.
“Zoe,” I countered and then clarified.“A motorcycle is not a mode of transportation I want you on with orasan inexperienced driver.Especially not during tourist season.Even the best riders get blindsided by stupid people.”
Her face settled into a silent, fuming mask that reminded me of Jackson so much it hurt.I could still remember that expression when he talked about going back.It was something he hated, yet resigned himself to doing.
Or maybe I was making up that memory, and he really was angry with me for keeping him too long.I didn’t know.He hadn’t been around to ask.
There was a compromise needed here, and I had a feeling that no matter what I did or said, it would be a losing battle for me.So, I had to lay out rules.“My car, three days a week, on weekdays when traffic isn’t so bad.Weekends, I drive you there and back, no exceptions.”Freedom with boundaries.“And don’t cross the causeway or the bridge.”Both were dangerous for a new driver.
Zoe frowned.“I use the causeway all the time.You taught me on the way to school.”
“Excuse me?Did I stutter?”Damn.That was right out of Shock’s vocabulary.I shoved that uncomfortable thought into a pit of flaming ashes.
“Mom, what if I want to have some fun with my friends?”
Of which she had few.Why?I didn’t know.All I understood was that Zoe held grudges for a long time.The children she went to school with not only teased her about being an only child, but illegitimate as well.Which was stupid because quite a few of them were from broken families.I’d only bypassed the whole divorce factor.And if you had to parse facts, technically, Zoe was born from a married woman.But that was my secret, and I’d take it to the grave and pull a few in with me if forced to admit it.
Maybe she was making more?“Do I know them?”
“Maybe.”
That was a bad answer.“Local or out-of-towners?”
Her thin scowl told me that answer.“When they leave, what happens then?”I didn’t give her time to answer.“They go back to their regular lives, which may include very real boyfriends and or girlfriends and you, my dear, are shelved somewhere with a summer memory.”
She glared at me.“Was that what Dad was?”
