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Authors: Stephanie Bond
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of ours, Mrs.
Winningham.”
“What about the woman with the striped hair and the chains?”
“Uh…that’s another friend.”
Her neighbor frowned. “Are your parents ever going to come back for you?”
Carlotta almost dropped the vase of flowers, then considered throwing it at the biddy and her bite-happy pooch. Instead she gritted her teeth. “I wouldn’t count on it, Mrs. Winningham.”
“Your townhouse is in terrible disrepair. It makes the entire street look bad.”
She so didn’t need this.
“I wasn’t happy when the two homosexuals moved into the house next to yours, but they have at least updated the place and keep it looking nice. Although that solarium sticking out in the backyard does block the view to the houses on the other side.”
Carlotta gave the woman a flat smile. The two men who had moved in next door about five years ago kept to themselves and had never talked to her or Wesley. Then she bit into her lip. Maybe she should make an effort to get to know them. They probably thought everyone in the neighborhood was as homophobic as this woman.
On the other hand, if they were witness to some of the goings-on at the Wren house, they were probably keeping their distance for a reason.
“You must have noticed that Wesley spruced up our back deck. We’ll get to some of the other things as soon as our budget allows.”
The woman sniffed. “From the looks of what was carried in there today, you got money for other things.”
It was Carlotta’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
The woman lifted her shoulders in a dramatic shrug. “It’s not my place to say.” She turned and walked away, leaving Carlotta to stand there soggy and miserable.
The door opened suddenly and Wesley stood there smiling. “Hey, sis!”
Instantly, she was suspicious. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she limped into the living room.
“Nothing’s wrong. Need a hand? Wow, where did you get the flowers?”
“Never mind,” she said absently, dripping on the carpet and staring at something past Wesley, something that even upstaged the little aluminum Christmas tree that had stood in the corner ever since their parents had taken off. “What is that?”
Wesley grinned. “It’s a big-screen TV.”
“I can see that.” The sixty-inch screen was hard to miss since it took up most of the real estate in the room. “What is it doing in our living room?”
“Surprise! I bought it for you.”
“For me? ”
“For us. Isn’t it great? The old one was about to go out anyway.” He looked so pleased with himself, just like when he was little and had brought her frogs.
She touched her stinging, injured palm to her forehead. “Wesley, this had to cost a fortune. Where did you get the money?”
“I sold my motorcycle.”
She conceded a spurt of relief and a tug of affection that he would sacrifice something he loved, but her generosity was short-lived. “I’m glad that you sold the death machine but Wesley, we could have spent that money on a hundred other things!”
“You don’t like it?”
He looked so wounded that she bit her tongue and counted to three. “Of course I like it, but…” She gestured to the basket of overflowing statements that she hadn’t bothered to open in too long to admit.
“But we need to pay bills! Catch up on the mortgage! And what about those thugs you owe?”
“I made my payments this morning—a day early.”
“What about next week?”
His shoulder sagged as he gestured toward the massive television. “I just thought it would make you happy. You’ve been so morose lately.”
Here came those damned tears again. Oh, God, and hiccups too. The wide-eyed panic in Wesley’s eyes at the waterworks made her turn away. Carlotta wiped her cheeks and said over her shoulder, “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Okay,” he muttered. “Oh, sis, there’s a phone message.”
She came up short. Had their father called? She turned on her heel, inhaling sharply into
Winningham.”
“What about the woman with the striped hair and the chains?”
“Uh…that’s another friend.”
Her neighbor frowned. “Are your parents ever going to come back for you?”
Carlotta almost dropped the vase of flowers, then considered throwing it at the biddy and her bite-happy pooch. Instead she gritted her teeth. “I wouldn’t count on it, Mrs. Winningham.”
“Your townhouse is in terrible disrepair. It makes the entire street look bad.”
She so didn’t need this.
“I wasn’t happy when the two homosexuals moved into the house next to yours, but they have at least updated the place and keep it looking nice. Although that solarium sticking out in the backyard does block the view to the houses on the other side.”
Carlotta gave the woman a flat smile. The two men who had moved in next door about five years ago kept to themselves and had never talked to her or Wesley. Then she bit into her lip. Maybe she should make an effort to get to know them. They probably thought everyone in the neighborhood was as homophobic as this woman.
On the other hand, if they were witness to some of the goings-on at the Wren house, they were probably keeping their distance for a reason.
“You must have noticed that Wesley spruced up our back deck. We’ll get to some of the other things as soon as our budget allows.”
The woman sniffed. “From the looks of what was carried in there today, you got money for other things.”
It was Carlotta’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
The woman lifted her shoulders in a dramatic shrug. “It’s not my place to say.” She turned and walked away, leaving Carlotta to stand there soggy and miserable.
The door opened suddenly and Wesley stood there smiling. “Hey, sis!”
Instantly, she was suspicious. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she limped into the living room.
“Nothing’s wrong. Need a hand? Wow, where did you get the flowers?”
“Never mind,” she said absently, dripping on the carpet and staring at something past Wesley, something that even upstaged the little aluminum Christmas tree that had stood in the corner ever since their parents had taken off. “What is that?”
Wesley grinned. “It’s a big-screen TV.”
“I can see that.” The sixty-inch screen was hard to miss since it took up most of the real estate in the room. “What is it doing in our living room?”
“Surprise! I bought it for you.”
“For me? ”
“For us. Isn’t it great? The old one was about to go out anyway.” He looked so pleased with himself, just like when he was little and had brought her frogs.
She touched her stinging, injured palm to her forehead. “Wesley, this had to cost a fortune. Where did you get the money?”
“I sold my motorcycle.”
She conceded a spurt of relief and a tug of affection that he would sacrifice something he loved, but her generosity was short-lived. “I’m glad that you sold the death machine but Wesley, we could have spent that money on a hundred other things!”
“You don’t like it?”
He looked so wounded that she bit her tongue and counted to three. “Of course I like it, but…” She gestured to the basket of overflowing statements that she hadn’t bothered to open in too long to admit.
“But we need to pay bills! Catch up on the mortgage! And what about those thugs you owe?”
“I made my payments this morning—a day early.”
“What about next week?”
His shoulder sagged as he gestured toward the massive television. “I just thought it would make you happy. You’ve been so morose lately.”
Here came those damned tears again. Oh, God, and hiccups too. The wide-eyed panic in Wesley’s eyes at the waterworks made her turn away. Carlotta wiped her cheeks and said over her shoulder, “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Okay,” he muttered. “Oh, sis, there’s a phone message.”
She came up short. Had their father called? She turned on her heel, inhaling sharply into
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