Page 10 of Coffee Shop Girl
Ellie reached out, grabbing the leftover half of a croissant on the plate that I’d loaded for them.
“I’m sorry,” Lizbeth said, distress in her eyes. “We’re dropping in here so unexpectedly. But I thought maybe your dad could help us. He was nice to me that one time we came. Or maybe you could help us hide for a little bit while this blows over or...”
I swallowed hard. “Dad can’t help you. He died eight months ago.”
Lizbeth’s eyes widened, first with surprise, then possibly fear. Dad had been a large, intimidating man. Bigger than most, but kinder and softer than a butterfly. I suspected Lizbeth had always sensed something safe about him, even if he was just the father of her half-sister. Plus, Jim hated Dad. To the point of fear. Lizbeth had made a calculated decision in that brilliant mind of hers.
This girl was more than just books and science.
My throat ached. I wanted this conversation to be over with. Mostly because it proved just how awful a sister I had turned out to be. Amongst other things, like college student and coffee shop owner.
“You didn’t say anything,” Lizbeth said, hurt in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us he died?”
“I know. I didn’t say anything.”
Ellie lifted one eyebrow.
“Of course I’ll take you in,” I said, eager to turn the subject. “It will be nice to have someone else around here.”
“We won’t stay,” Lizbeth promised, resolute. “Dad might look here. We don’t want to bring him to you. Just help us findsomewhereto go until this blows over, or something. Maybe I can find a job and—”
“Support two people on the income of a sixteen-year-old who should be in high school?”
“I’m smart enough to figure it out.”
The impetuous decision to leave Jim’s house had saved Ellie’s life, but to travel two hundred miles to a distant half-sister? Surely there was someone closer to them who could have helped.
Who could have called the cops, or something.
But then what?
A sudden tightening of her jaw told me that Lizbeth had already thought this out. Without me, they were headed straight to the foster system. The same system that had raised and destroyed Mama. If book-loving Lizbeth would rather brave two hundred miles of mountain wilderness on a chance my dad would help them out, it must be pretty bad at home.
Ignoring my rising panic about debt, bills, and credit card payments that would soon be turned over to a debt collector to harass me into the grave, I squeezed her cold, trembling hand.
“We’ll figure everything out. First, you two need a hot shower, some fresh clothes, and a really, really long sleep in my comfortable bed. The portable A/C machine kind of sucks, but it’s better than roasting to death. Sound good?”
Lizbeth sighed, gratefully transferring the position of leadership to me. She had always been a kind soul, born to speed through math equations, read books, and float on the idea of every romance she could find. Where Ellie had always thrived in rugged, unusual circumstances, Lizbeth preferred predictability.
“You did the right thing, Lizbeth.”
Ellie stared at me through Mama’s sooty lashes, her expression as hard as a diamond. Lizbeth paused, looking between the two of us.
“If Jim comes?” Lizbeth asked, voicing Ellie’s unspoken question.
“He won’t.”
“If he does?”
“I’ll kick him off my property and tell him to go back to the hole he was born in. Then I’ll call the cops.”
What a joy that would be.
The certainty in my tone seemed to calm Lizbeth. Ellie straightened, eyeing me, and fell in step behind Lizbeth as I led them into the hall and up the stairs.
4
Maverick
