Chapter 2

Molly yawned and blinked, trying to clear her fuzzy eyesight. It didn’t help. The spreadsheet’s numbers still looked like someone had smeared Vaseline over the laptop screen. Letting out a huff of frustration that morphed into another yawn halfway through, she sat back in her chair and squinted at the clock on the microwave display.

“Almost one. No wonder I’m tired,” she muttered, rolling her head to stretch out her tense neck muscles. Her right leg felt stiff, and she was dying to move it, but a snoozing Warrant was resting his huge head on her foot, and she didn’t want to disturb the dog. She knew she should just go to bed and finish work in the morning, but it was almost impossible to get anything done while everyone else was awake. There were always distractions and crises to manage, as well as research to be done. It was good to be busy, to be offered almost too many jobs, but it was also tiring. The business was solidly established now, but Molly still hated to turn away work. Even though it wasn’t exactly logical, she worried that everything would collapse underneath them if she paused to take a breath.

Glancing back at the screen, she grimaced. The numbers weren’t any clearer than they’d been a minute ago. Saving the file, she shut down the laptop. If she tried to finish it tonight, she’d just have to fix mistakes tomorrow.

The kitchen was dimly lit by the gentle glow from the light over the stove. The room was just large enough to fit the small table that Molly used as a desk. No matter how much she would’ve loved to have an office with a door she could use to shut out the hubbub, space was at a premium when six women shared one house. There were officially three bedrooms, although solitude-loving Norah had tucked a twin bed into what was supposed to be an upstairs sitting room and had appropriated the hall closet for her own use. Molly and Felicity shared one room, and the twins—Cara and Charlie—took another. It irked Molly that their mother, who contributed the least to the household expenses, had her own room.

Tapping her finger absently on the closed laptop, she frowned, knowing that she was going to have to have a conversation with her mom soon about paying her way or finding another place to live.

With a groan, she let her head tip forward to rest on the cool laptop lid. She dreaded the drama that conversation would cause. Molly’d had similar talks with her mom over the years—the first was when she was twelve—and Jane had always somehow wiggled out of her promises or negotiated more time or had such a fit that Molly had backed off. Lifting her head, she drew her shoulders back. Not this time. She was determined to stand strong.

The overhead light flickered on, making her blink from the glare. Warrant’s snuffled snores cut off abruptly. He raised his head off of her foot when Jane swept into the kitchen, as if Molly’s thoughts had summoned her. Her tall, angular form was dressed in black skinny jeans and a dark, form-fitting top, with her red hair pulled back in a severe bun.

“Molly!” Bending, Jane pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Hey, Mom.” Molly turned in her chair so she could examine Jane’s outfit as her mother pulled a water bottle out of the fridge. “What’s with the…look?”

“What?” Keeping the refrigerator door propped open with her hip, Jane took a long drink of water, screwed the cap back on, and returned it to the shelf before letting the fridge close again. Molly resisted the urge to ask her mom if she planned to air-condition the entire house via refrigerator. Even though Molly was only twenty-seven, being around Jane somehow made her feel like a cranky parent. “You don’t like it?” Jane asked as she did a turn, as if modeling.

“It’s very…cat-burglar chic, I guess.” When Jane jerked around with a reproving look—presumably for her skeptical tone—Molly just shrugged. She was used to having her mom’s disapproval. Molly was much too responsible to ever be the favorite. Usually, that was Felicity or Charlie, depending on Jane’s whim, but they’d all learned not to allow their mom to play them off one another. They were sisters first—sisters who shared the misfortune of having an often irresponsible mother. “Where are you off to at one on a Wednesday morning?”

Jane flipped her hand as if the words smelled bad. The familiarity of the gesture caused Molly to blink. She did exactly the same thing when she wanted to change the subject. She immediately made a firm resolution to stop. “I have to ask my daughter for permission to go out?” Jane scoffed. “Don’t forget who the mother is around here.”

Unfortunately, Jane made it all too easy to do exactly that. Her words reminded Molly of her earlier thoughts. “Will you be back by tomorrow—this afternoon, I mean? I need to talk to you.”

Smoothing her hair even though the strands were perfectly flat, Jane lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Possibly. If the perfect opportunity to be spontaneous presents itself, I’m not going to pass it up. You’re an adult now. You need to learn that you don’t need your mom around all the time anymore.”

Molly had to clench her jaw shut and count to fourteen before she trusted herself to speak semi-civilly. “Text me if you’re going to be gone more than a day so I don’t have to start searching hospitals and jails.”

With a light laugh—as if the suggestion was ridiculous and not a regular thing her kids had to do since they’d been much too young to be dealing with that nonsense—Jane headed for the door to the garage.

“Why are you going that way?” Molly asked, standing up, prepared to tackle her mom if necessary. There were hard lines, and her beloved Prius was one of them. “Your car is parked in the driveway.”

“Oh!” Jane paused, her hand on the doorknob. “I thought we could swap for a few days. Yours gets better gas mileage, and mine’s making this strange rattling sound every time I go over eighty.”

There were so many things wrong with what her mother said that Molly couldn’t decide where to start. She ended up going with a flat “No.”

“Molly…” It was her stern mother voice, which had lost all of its power by the time Molly was a teenager.

“If you take my car, I’m going to report it stolen.” She grabbed her backpack off the hook next to the door and rummaged through it, searching for the key fob that she always kept tucked in the front pocket. It wasn’t there. Setting her backpack down with a solid thump, she held out her hand, maneuvering her body to block the garage door. “Keys.”

“My car isn’t safe right now.” Jane tucked her fingers into her back pocket, but Molly knew that she was protecting her access to the keys rather than moving to pull them out and hand them over. “Do you really want your mother driving around Denver in a dangerous vehicle?”

Molly kept her hand outstretched, palm up expectantly. “Do you want your daughter driving around in a dangerous vehicle?”

Jane did that familiar sweep of her hand again, doubling Molly’s resolution to remove the motion from her own repertoire. “You’re in Langston. You don’t need a car. Where would you need to go that you couldn’t just walk to?”

“Work.” Her tone was heavy with sarcasm, but her position in front of the door didn’t waiver. “I need to work, so that we can eat and have nice things like heat in the winter. The same work that often requires me to go to Denver to chase after skips or meet with bail-bond agents. Why don’t you stay home tonight and take your car to the shop tomorrow morning?”

Dropping her chin, Jane peered at Molly through her lashes. “I can’t afford to have it fixed. Can I borrow some money from you?”

“No.” The response was immediate and unhesitating. “You know the rules. We let you live here, but you have to support yourself otherwise.” Even though she didn’t want to get into another drama-filled conversation so late at night, the words just popped out. “That’s one of the things we need to talk about. You’re supposed to be helping with utilities and groceries, but you haven’t contributed in months.” More like years, Molly thought, but she was trying to be a little tactful, at least. “I know you scammed some money from Cara last week. If you’re not going to give that back to her, at least use it to fix your car.”

Annoyance flickered over Jane’s face, disappearing so quickly that Molly would’ve thought she’d imagined it if she didn’t know her mom so well. Jane’s expression morphed into something that somehow radiated sad guilt and martyrdom in equal measures. “I didn’t scam my own daughter. Just because you’re hard and suspicious doesn’t mean you should bully your sister into being that way, as well. Cara’s sweet and caring, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It was difficult for Molly to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently, Cara’s the favorite tonight. “You’re right. There’s nothing wrong with being caring and sweet. There is something wrong with taking money that your daughter needs for school.”

Shifting her weight, Jane jutted out one hip, her hands still tucked into her right back pocket—guarding the keys, Molly assumed. “If Cara doesn’t have enough money for school, that’s not on me. Maybe you should be paying her more for the work she does. You know she doesn’t like this bounty-hunter nonsense. The least you can do is offer her a fair wage.”

“Stop.” The word came out with a snap that showed just how close Molly was to losing her temper. “We’re not talking about this now…or ever, really. What we are talking about is how you’re going to hand over my car keys right now.”

Still Jane hesitated, and Molly knew her mom’s mind was clicking away, trying to come up with a new plan to get what she wanted. Jane always had a plan B, and she consistently figured out a dozen ways out of any trap. That was how she’d survived for almost fifty years when she’d been conning people out of money since she was old enough to bat her lashes and talk her way into getting an extra piece of candy—or, if that failed, just stealing it.

“Mom.” Molly used the firm tone that Jane had tried on her. “Keys. Now. You know I won’t hesitate to tackle you.”

Her mom’s mouth drew down in an unhappy frown. Molly tightened her jaw and didn’t lower her arm or her gaze. After a tense few seconds, Jane dug out the keys and slapped them against Molly’s extended palm.

“Thank you.” Fighting not to let her relief show, Molly fisted her fingers around the key fob and dropped her arm to her side. She didn’t move away from the door, holding her ground as her mom gave a dramatic huff and flounced into the living room—at least as much as someone wearing skintight cat-burglar gear could flounce. “Be safe,” Molly called softly from her spot in the kitchen.

Jane’s only response was to slam the front door behind her. Grimacing at the loud noise and the acrid taste the scene had left in her mouth, Molly leaned back against the garage door and waited for the inevitable sound of footsteps from the upper floor. Nails clicked against the ancient linoleum as Warrant crossed the kitchen to press against her legs. Grateful for the support, she rubbed behind his ears.

“Everything okay?” Norah was the first to pop her sleep-mussed head into the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Holding up the key fob, Molly gave it a little shake. “Just preemptively stopping some grand theft auto.”

“Mom?” Norah moved the rest of the way into the kitchen, tugging the hem of her oversized sleep shirt over her shorts. Cara and Charlie came into the kitchen just in time to hear Norah’s question and immediately turned to head back to bed, Warrant following them. He knew Cara was a sucker and would let him sleep on her bed, even though he was notorious for taking over the entire thing.

Charlie’s voice filtered back into the kitchen. “It was just Mom, Fifi. Go back to bed.”

The sound of three sets of footsteps and one set of paws thumping up the stairs along with Felicity’s grumbles—although Molly couldn’t hear whether she was complaining about Jane’s lack of courtesy or the hated nickname—gradually quieted, and Molly turned her attention back to Norah, who still seemed to be waiting for an answer, even though it was obvious.

“Yeah, Mom tried to trade cars with me.” Molly forced a smile for her sister. Although Norah was almost twenty-four, she looked younger, thanks to her usual anxious expression and the way her baggy pajamas overwhelmed her slight frame.

“Why did she need your car?” Norah asked.

Molly made a face as she moved over to her abandoned seat and plopped down in it. “Apparently, I’m not the mom, so I don’t get to ask that.”

The tension in Norah’s face faded slightly as she settled on the other chair. “Did she sell her car again for cash?”

“No. It’s just making an odd noise—or that’s what she said, at least.” Propping her elbow on the table and setting her chin in her hand, Molly arched her eyebrows at Norah. Her sister knew just as well as Molly that their mom played fast and loose with the truth. “I’m guessing it’s something else, like she dropped part of her burrito under the seat and it’s starting to really stink.”

Norah gave a small huff of a laugh, and Molly grinned, triumphant that she’d gotten her sister’s anxiety to ease—at least temporarily. Not wanting her to dwell on where Jane was going or why she’d wanted Molly’s car, since Norah always assumed the worst possible scenarios were true, Molly quickly changed the subject.

“I hate having conversations like that with Mom,” she said, slumping forward even more to rest her cheek on her crossed arms. “I turn into this strict, mean, no-fun, rules, rules, rules nun-teacher person who I kind of hate.”

“You have to.” Norah mirrored her position so they both had their heads down, facing each other. “If you don’t set rules, then there will be no rules. Mom certainly isn’t going to set any. And I don’t hate your nun-teacher person. I find her reassuring.”

“Not very fun, though.”

“Fun has its place,” Norah said seriously. “Without rules, fun can be really scary.”

As she chewed over her sister’s words, Molly started to smile. “How did such an incredible person like you come from Mom and a guy nicknamed POS? That’s a genetic miracle right there.”

“Hey!” Norah sat up straight. Even though she was obviously trying to sound indignant, a grin tugged at her lips. “She’s your mom, too. Fifty percent of your genetic material came from her.” She paused for a moment. “Though I have to admit that being half Lono is better than being half POS.”

Stifling a sudden yawn, Molly stood and reached to pull Norah to her feet. “Well, POS must’ve had some good dormant material, because you turned out pretty perfect.”

Although Norah rolled her eyes, she fought a smile, too. “Thanks, strict nun-teacher person.”

Molly poked her sister in the side, just where she knew Norah was ticklish. “Maybe not completely perfect.”

With a giggle, Norah bumped her with her painfully pointy elbow before heading up the stairs. As Molly followed, her thoughts turned back to her mom, and her smile faded. After the scene earlier, it was even more evident that they needed to have a serious conversation…one that might very well end with Molly having to kick her mother out of their house. Firming her jaw, she straightened her spine. It was past time Jane learned to stand on her own two feet and quit mooching off her kids.

As much as Molly dreaded the scene it would cause, she was going to evict her mom…for all of their sakes.