Part 24 (1/2)
Now she said the same thing to Amber. The girl was already on her mother's doo-doo list. Did Samantha need to give Ca.s.s another reason to be unhappy with the kid?
Relief flooded Amber's face, was.h.i.+ng the worry lines from her brow. ”Thank you,” she breathed.
”But you'd better keep your end of the bargain,” Samantha said sternly, ”or I'll rat you out in a heartbeat.”
”Don't worry, I will. You rock,” she gushed, then turned and practically danced out of the office.
Rock...rockslide. Ugh. Samantha decided it was time to go home and have a pity party.
Her condo was a nice place for a party, with walls painted a warm brown, photographs of lupines and lady's slippers Samantha had taken on her mountain hikes, framed and hung over the electric fireplace.
And the welcome committee was ready and waiting. Nibs was always glad to see someone who could master the mysteries of the cat-food can.
”You're lucky,” she told him as she scooped food into his bowl. ”You have someone to take care of you. No worries, no stress.” What would that be like?
If she gave up the fight, she'd have no worries and no stress, either.
Except her mother would end up a bag lady and she'd go down in the family history books as the one who lost the company-generations of work and enthusiasm and creativity gone. Poof.
”How could this happen to a nice girl like me?”
Nibs didn't answer. He was too busy eating.
She turned off her cell phone and threw it in her junk drawer. Then she went to bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling. Bad idea. Her mind was whirling so fast she nearly gave herself bed spin. She got up and left the bedroom.
What to do, what to do? She paced the condo but no answer came.
She finally grabbed the chocolate seconds she'd brought home and parked on the living room couch in front of the TV and turned on the news like a good little m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t.
”A hard blow for the town of Icicle Falls this week,” Erin Knowle, newscast chick, was saying. ”With a rockslide across Highway 2 and the governor warning people to avoid the pa.s.s, their chocolate festival is in danger of being canceled. This, coming on top of the weather, is a double blow for the small town that caters to winter sports enthusiasts. Highway 2 is currently closed, so if you need to go over the pa.s.s, use an alternate route.”
”Oh, by all means,” Samantha shouted at the woman, throwing a chocolate at the TV.
Erin's partner in misery put in his two bits. ”We've had unusually warm weather and light rainfall here in the Pacific Northwest this year, haven't we, Erin?”
”Yes,” said Erin, all prim and perfect in her power suit and her perfect world where bad news only happened to other people, ”and that's translated into very little snow in the mountains. And now these unusually warm temperatures have spelled disaster for ski areas like Snoqualmie Falls and Crystal Mountain and, of course, Icicle Falls, whose economy depends on good winter weather.”
Samantha hurled another chunk of chocolate at the TV.
You're being childish, she told herself. And wasting chocolate. She walked over to where the candies had landed, picked them up and put both pieces in her mouth. Then, mature adult that she was, she sat on the floor and wailed.
She was just hitting her stride when someone knocked on her door. Oh, no. Who had heard her? She choked back a sob and sat perfectly still, hoping whoever it was would go away.
A m.u.f.fled voice called, ”Are you okay in there?”
Lila Ward. She was coming to pour salt on the wound. The drapes were closed but Samantha felt foolish and pathetic for having been caught sitting here on her living room floor crying. She held her breath and willed the woman to give up and go away.
But, like Samantha's problems, Lila stuck around. Another knock. ”Samantha?”
”s.h.i.+t,” Samantha muttered. She took a swipe at her cheeks and went to answer the door.
She opened it to find Lila standing there holding a box of tissue. ”I heard you and thought you could use this.”
The unexpected kindness started the tears rising to flood level again and Samantha's throat constricted. All she could do was take the box and nod.
Lila cleared her throat. ”Well, I'll be going. If you need anything I'm downstairs.”
She needed the pa.s.s cleared. She needed the governor to shut up. She needed a ton of free publicity. And she needed people to come to the festival and spend a fortune. But she hugged that box of tissues as if it were a gift from heaven.
She managed to choke out a thank-you. Then after Lila left she shut her door, returned to the couch and made use of the tissues.
By the time Cecily knocked on her door, she had a mountain of used tissues on the coffee table and a headache. But she was dry-eyed and resigned to her fate. Was this how people felt just before they drowned? Did some voice inside them whisper, Give up and die?
”Are you all right?” Cecily asked, taking in the mess on the coffee table.
Samantha heaved a sigh. ”I will be.” At some point in her life, maybe ten years from now. Or twenty.
She went back to the couch. Her sister followed her and snagged a chocolate. ”I'm sorry you had to get hit with all this.”
That made two of them. If she'd just had a little more time, if she could've made a go of the festival. If, if, if. ”I give up.” I'm sorry, Great-grandma. I really am.
”Don't give up, Sam.” Cecily held a piece of chocolate to Samantha's mouth. ”Open.”
Samantha obliged and her sister popped the candy in. It soured in her mouth and she spat it into a tissue. She couldn't eat this stuff anymore. ”It's not just us. The whole town was counting on this. The B and Bs have lost bookings right and left.”
”I'm sure they'll be able to hang on till summer when the hikers and river rafters come,” Cecily said.
”That's longer than we can hang on.” Suddenly drowning in a vat of chocolate looked pretty darned good. Samantha fell back against the couch cus.h.i.+ons. ”What's going to happen to Mom?”
”She'll be fine. She just got a royalty check.”
Mom wasn't exactly a household name. It couldn't have been for much. ”How much?” Samantha asked.
Cecily shrugged. ”I didn't see it, but she says it should tide her over for a month.”
Samantha shook her head. ”How would she even know? She has no idea what's going on with her finances.” She never had. Their mother's brain was not wired for math.
”Yeah,” Cecily agreed. ”But she should be able to figure out how to make a house payment and pay the power bill.”
”I hope so.” Samantha rubbed her aching head. Mom was going down the financial tubes. And without Sweet Dreams, so were all their employees. ”If I lose the company-”
”You'll go on to start another,” Cecily said. ”That's what successful people do. They encounter a roadblock and they find another route. But let's not worry about that yet. I came to tell you some great news. D.O.T. should have the road open by Thursday.” Her cell phone rang. ”Bailey,” she announced before answering. Then, ”Yes, we're here. Yes, she's fine. Well, sort of.” A moment later Cecily held out the phone to Samantha. ”She wants to talk to you.”
How many family members does it take to pull a girl back from the brink of despair? Samantha took the phone.
”I've been so worried about you,” Bailey said. ”You weren't answering your cell.”
”I turned it off.” The last thing she'd wanted was to talk to anyone in her time of misery. Or so she'd thought. But having her sisters here was like wrapping herself in a down comforter on a cold evening. It didn't make the night any less cold but you felt warmer.