Read Online The Cotton Queen by Pamela Morsi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pamela Morsi
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complicated time. The sight of him brought a strange and welcome sense of relief.
“Hi,” I said, casually, as if I’d just seen him in the Malt Shop the day before.
He smiled back, apparently just as pleased to see me.
“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” he said, giving a slight nod to my boss across the room. “But I needed to talk to you and your phone had been disconnected and the mail came back, Moved: No Forwarding Address,” he said. “I went by your house. Your neighbor seemed to think that you’d gone to California.”
I didn’t respond to that. In truth, it kind of scared me to think of my name even being mentioned back at the duplex.
“I...I was running out on the rent,” I told him.
I made up the lie on the spot. It wasn’t a very good response, but it seemed like a better explanation than the truth.
It shocked Acee. Mr. Donohoe also stopped and looked at me askance, then hurriedly made himself scarce.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve been in negotiations with Freddie and LaVeida’s lawyer,” he said. “They haven’t dropped the case.”
“I thought you said they couldn’t win.”
“They can’t,” he assured me. “I mean, they most probably won’t unless...well, unless they can convince the judge that you’re actually doing something terrible. But just continuing with the case gives the Hoffmans some leverage toward involvement in Alana’s life. I’m sure they’re thinking that perhaps they could get court-ordered visitation or simply get it on record that they are an alternative for her in case you do get into some trouble.”
“Okay.”
Acee hesitated then lowered his voice in a concerned whisper. “I have to tell you that running out on the rent is not a good way to impress a judge about your fitness to be a mother.”
“It won’t happen again,” I assured him.
“Where are you living now?”
“Out on the highway. Not far from here.”
Acee smiled, sort of sarcastically. “That doesn’t sound much like a mailing address.”
“It’s called Shady Bend Motor Lodges,” I told him.
His brow furrowed. “You’re living in a motel?”
“They’re little roadside vacation lodges,” I countered, dodging behind semantics.
Acee was nodding, slowly, but he looked worried.
“Babs, that won’t sound good to a judge,” he said. “Raising a little girl in a motel.”
“They’re just little cottages,” I assured him. “And in the center there’s a grassy area with a big tree and a swing set.”
“A swing set is not a yard,” he said. “And there must be people coming and going all the time. You need to find a better place.”
“This is a good place,” I assured him. “The old woman who owns it takes care of Laney after school.”
I knew I sounded defensive.
“You don’t have to convince me,” Acee said. “I’m sure that if you like it, then it’s fine. But I’m not the judge, I won’t be the one holding it up for comparison with that brand-new house of Freddie and LaVeida’s, on a nice residential street, with a big backyard.”
“I’m Laney’s mother,” I pointed out, firmly. “That counts for more than all the houses in America.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “It’s absolutely true.”
I continued to argue about how good things were. That our little cottage was like living in a dollhouse. Everything was neat and clean and nearly new. I told him about how happy Laney was and how much she liked riding the school bus. It was a huge pack of lies and the more I told it the bigger it got.
Acee listened politely, nodding from time to time.
“Just think about coming up with a more traditional living situation,” he suggested finally as he began backing toward the door.
“I’ll think about it.”
“And call Maxine and Warren,” he added. “They were worried about you when I called.”
“Of course,” I told him. I did feel guilty about hiding out from them.
All in all, I was extremely
“Hi,” I said, casually, as if I’d just seen him in the Malt Shop the day before.
He smiled back, apparently just as pleased to see me.
“I’m sorry to bother you at work,” he said, giving a slight nod to my boss across the room. “But I needed to talk to you and your phone had been disconnected and the mail came back, Moved: No Forwarding Address,” he said. “I went by your house. Your neighbor seemed to think that you’d gone to California.”
I didn’t respond to that. In truth, it kind of scared me to think of my name even being mentioned back at the duplex.
“I...I was running out on the rent,” I told him.
I made up the lie on the spot. It wasn’t a very good response, but it seemed like a better explanation than the truth.
It shocked Acee. Mr. Donohoe also stopped and looked at me askance, then hurriedly made himself scarce.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve been in negotiations with Freddie and LaVeida’s lawyer,” he said. “They haven’t dropped the case.”
“I thought you said they couldn’t win.”
“They can’t,” he assured me. “I mean, they most probably won’t unless...well, unless they can convince the judge that you’re actually doing something terrible. But just continuing with the case gives the Hoffmans some leverage toward involvement in Alana’s life. I’m sure they’re thinking that perhaps they could get court-ordered visitation or simply get it on record that they are an alternative for her in case you do get into some trouble.”
“Okay.”
Acee hesitated then lowered his voice in a concerned whisper. “I have to tell you that running out on the rent is not a good way to impress a judge about your fitness to be a mother.”
“It won’t happen again,” I assured him.
“Where are you living now?”
“Out on the highway. Not far from here.”
Acee smiled, sort of sarcastically. “That doesn’t sound much like a mailing address.”
“It’s called Shady Bend Motor Lodges,” I told him.
His brow furrowed. “You’re living in a motel?”
“They’re little roadside vacation lodges,” I countered, dodging behind semantics.
Acee was nodding, slowly, but he looked worried.
“Babs, that won’t sound good to a judge,” he said. “Raising a little girl in a motel.”
“They’re just little cottages,” I assured him. “And in the center there’s a grassy area with a big tree and a swing set.”
“A swing set is not a yard,” he said. “And there must be people coming and going all the time. You need to find a better place.”
“This is a good place,” I assured him. “The old woman who owns it takes care of Laney after school.”
I knew I sounded defensive.
“You don’t have to convince me,” Acee said. “I’m sure that if you like it, then it’s fine. But I’m not the judge, I won’t be the one holding it up for comparison with that brand-new house of Freddie and LaVeida’s, on a nice residential street, with a big backyard.”
“I’m Laney’s mother,” I pointed out, firmly. “That counts for more than all the houses in America.”
“That’s true,” he admitted. “It’s absolutely true.”
I continued to argue about how good things were. That our little cottage was like living in a dollhouse. Everything was neat and clean and nearly new. I told him about how happy Laney was and how much she liked riding the school bus. It was a huge pack of lies and the more I told it the bigger it got.
Acee listened politely, nodding from time to time.
“Just think about coming up with a more traditional living situation,” he suggested finally as he began backing toward the door.
“I’ll think about it.”
“And call Maxine and Warren,” he added. “They were worried about you when I called.”
“Of course,” I told him. I did feel guilty about hiding out from them.
All in all, I was extremely
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