Chapter One
It was a well-known fact that when in search of incontinence products at the grocery store, Erin Jenkins would pick the squeakiest cart known to mankind. First mistake: picking the stray cart pushed off to the side like a dreaded yellow Starburst. But twelve aisles from the front of the store, she’d gone too far. Okay, fine, pure laziness stood between her and going back to the entrance.
The Bluetooth headpiece nestled in her ear beeped, and she clicked the “Call” button.
“What’s the status on the contraband?”
Erin rolled her eyes as her sister’s voice carried through the speaker.
“This isn’t a drug deal, Andie.” Although she’d likely be getting fewer side-eye glances with those types of items in her cart rather than Preparation H. This was Portland, after all. “Do you need something? Or just want a direct play-by-play of my shopping trip?”
“I need something to keep me entertained while I make tea for Mom. She called my steeping skills subpar. Can you believe that?”
Erin side-eyed her headpiece. “How can you screw up Lipton?”
Plates and silverware clanged in the background, and she could picture Andie clattering around in the small galley kitchen, her curls curtaining over her inked shoulders as she searched for more tea products in the lower cabinets. “I’m just that talented.”
“You’re something, all right.” Erin chuckled but then focused back on the job at hand. With her mother out of commission because of her hernia surgery, Erin was tasked with shopping for her grandmother. So that left her rolling her squeaky cart down the incontinence aisle.
Mission: Acquire Depends, bunion pads, hemorrhoid medication, and age-defying wrinkle cream.
Casualties: Self-pride.
She loved her family. To the point where she slapped a carefully practiced grin on her face to do yearly photos with matching plaid shirts. Yes, they were that family. The type that re-created throwback photos of embarrassing pics that were really better off collecting dust in an album. But there had to be a line drawn somewhere, and a cart full of incontinence products at her old stomping grounds came awfully close.
“Any chance of you picking up some tea on your way home?” Andie asked.
“The odds are about as good as you learning how to brew a good cup before I get back.” She’d drop the groceries off at her grandma’s house, lay low at her mom’s house, and then pray that her purchases lasted until she skipped out of town in six weeks.
“I thought I was your favorite sister.”
“You’re my only sister,” Erin said.
Erin crumpled the grocery list in her palm and shoved it into the side compartment of her purse. Hemorrhoid and age-defying cream, check. Bunion pads, acquired. All with the stealth and precision of a seasoned FBI operative. She’d managed to strategically drape a cluster of bananas over the items, but that wouldn’t cut it for the jumbo 120-pack of adult diapers she’d soon be rocking in her cart. Maybe she should buy a few new beach towels. That would cover the box.
As she turned down the aisle, her cart decided to act up again, the wheels emitting a high whine. A group of guys in their early twenties breezed past her to the beer section, each giving her an amused smile as she squeaked along. This day could end anytime now.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
“What the hell is that noise?” her sister said.
On the other end of the line, fine china clinked together, and Erin could picture her sister roughly handling her mother’s tea set. “The slow death of my emotional stability.” Her fingers dug into the cart handle as she took a calm, steadying breath.
“I thought you’d lost that years ago.”
Six weeks. Six excruciating, long weeks and then you’ll be back in San Francisco. That was what she’d written in her teacher planner, and by golly, if it was in there, it was going to happen. She’d used ink and surrounded the words with star stickers: August 1, setting up my classroom. Positive thinking put plans into motion, right?
Then again, no amount of positive thinking would reverse the million-dollar budget cut to the city’s education fund that had left six teachers, including Erin, without jobs this fall. No amount of planner decorating could save her old position. Hopefully one of her interviews would pan out and get her back on track to return to her old apartment in the city.
“Very funny, smart-ass,” Erin said. “Remind me why you called again?”
“Someone has to keep tabs on you to make sure you’re not skipping town again.”
“Ha ha.” Although it was a valid statement, because Erin did, in fact, want to bail.
Positive thoughts. She’d had a job interview yesterday, four hours before she’d driven home. The optimist in her had hoped they’d offer her a job on the spot so she could take her packed suitcase back to her San Francisco apartment. The realist in her knew that there had to be phone calls conducted and references checked before they could offer anything. So, here she was. Back in Portland, the town she hadn’t called home for more than a decade.
As long as her latest job interview panned out, she’d be set to decorate her new classroom at the end of the summer. This one felt right, the principal telling her how much she loved the lesson plan Erin had shared during the meeting.
Erin narrowly avoided bumping into an older lady as she passed on the right. The lady shot her a look. The I got you figured out, your stupid bananas hide nothing look. Or maybe she was becoming paranoid. Luckily, she hadn’t run into anyone she recognized. She’d made sure to go to the supermarket on the outskirts of town just so she wouldn’t encounter any neighbors.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
Erin cringed and muttered a few choice words under her breath. Her sister continued chatting about the tea, banging more cabinets in the process.
She glanced sideways at the endcap, spotting the Depend logo out of the corner of her eye, and scooped it into her cart faster than her favorite mascara at a Sephora sale. Add a couple of boxes of Rolaids, and she’d be bringing all the blue-pill-popping boys to the yard.
“Mission accomplished. And a bonus—I don’t think the cartel will be hunting me down anytime soon,” she told her sister.
“Good to hear. Which means you still have time to get that tea . . . you know, if you want to be a good sister and all.”
Erin managed to make it down the fourteen aisles to the checkout stand without bumping into anyone she knew. Luck must’ve been on her side today. “Not happening. Read the instructions on the back of the package.”
Another beep came through on her headset.
“Hold on. I have another call coming in,” she said, and then clicked to the other line.
Erin didn’t bother checking her phone to see who it was. Chances were pretty high it was her mother. Probably complaining that Andie was taking too long with the tea. Or making sure she hadn’t fled town yet. Both viable options.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Jenkins?”
Erin stopped unloading her grandmother’s groceries onto the conveyer belt, frozen in place. “Yes?”
“This is Linda Murphy from Dennison Middle School.”
Holy crap. So soon? Either they really liked her, or this was a pity rejection call.
Her lungs couldn’t decide whether they wanted to zip off to warp speed or stop working altogether. It had been the fourth and final interview she’d managed to snag before her trip back home. The last three had called to tell her the positions had been filled by someone else. This was her last shot. Fourth time was a charm, right? “Uh, hi. Hello.”
She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Lame. Seriously, she worked with people for a living. At the very least, she could strike up polite chitchat.
The cashier waved a hand in front of Erin. “’Scuse me, miss? There’s a two-for-one special on all Depends products. Do you want me to send a checker to get another box?”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?” Linda asked, her voice crystal clear in Erin’s Bluetooth.
No. A potential employer did not just hear she was buying adult diapers.
Erin shook her head at the cashier, praying he didn’t say anything more about her grocery items, and focused back on her call. “Nothing. I’m so sorry. You were saying?”
The cashier glared at her but grabbed the package and ran it over the scanner. It emitted an angry beep, beep, beep. First, the squeaky cart from hell; now the loudest checkout stand in existence. Seriously, what was with her and these sounds at this supermarket? The checker tried again, and it made the same noise. He picked up the microphone and announced, “Price check for Depends, Fit Me Snuggly.”
For the love of all that was holy.
Erin’s lower back broke out in a cold sweat. She dug her toes into her sandals, and it took everything in her power not to shrivel up and die of mortification. Gaze trained on the cashier’s name tag—Clint—she fought for a calm, happy place. A box of newly sharpened number-two pencils. Planner stickers. A completely untouched whiteboard.
“Are you sure this isn’t a bad time, Ms. Jenkins?”
“No, no. Perfect time.” As in perfect time to bang her head into unconsciousness and forget this ever happened. She swallowed hard.
The cashier picked up the ringing phone a moment later and then said, “Ha! I knew there was a sale going on. Sure you don’t want me to have someone grab you an extra box?”
“No,” she growled. She shot him a look that promised mental death daggers to fly his way if he asked again. If it scared a class of thirteen-year-olds into not torching the science lab with Bunsen burners, it’d work on pretty much anyone.
Cashier Clint with the Mohawk wasn’t getting the memo. “I mean, if it were me and I had a leaking problem, I’d want to stock up. Just sayin’.”
She muted the speaker to her Bluetooth. “What is this? A used-car lot? What did I ever do to you?” She sighed and counted to five in her head. She looked at Clint and his ridiculous Mohawk and decided to give in. “Fine. Give me the extra box.”
“Sheesh. Just trying to help you out, lady.” He shrugged, then picked up the courtesy phone and said, “Bring that package of Depends up to the register, Larry.” He hung up, and a loud thud reverberated over the speaker system.
Erin cringed and focused back on the conversation, unmuting the call. “I’m so sorry. What were you saying? Someone ahead of me is having trouble at the register.”
Um, yeah. Nobody with a brain would buy that garbage she was selling.
“Admin at Stephens Middle School sang your praises when we called for your references. We know you’d be a fantastic addition to any school . . .” She trailed off.
Erin swallowed back the sudden thickness in her throat. There was a but coming. The looming but was as obvious as a cart full of incontinence products being wheeled around at the grocery store. No. No. She needed this job. Teaching was all she knew, and if she didn’t get a position by the end of the summer, where would she be? Unemployed? Extending her stay at her mom’s house? She shuddered.
Linda sighed. “But we needed to hire from within. I’m so sorry, Ms. Jenkins.”
“I understand.” And she did, but that didn’t ease the sting in her eyes.
“I really wish you the best of luck in your job search.”
She swallowed past the thick lump in her throat and managed a thank-you before clicking to her sister on the other line.
“Andie?”
“About time. I’m so bored I almost started doing the dishes.”
That cracked a smile on Erin’s wobbly lips. “I’m going to head to Barry’s Bakery and go eat my feelings now. Be home later.” She turned off the Bluetooth and dragged her groceries to the car. Six weeks might seem like forever at the moment, but it wasn’t very much time to find a job for the upcoming school year.