“Do you need help?” Gabriel gets up to assist.
“No. I’ve got this. You can take a shower if you want. There should be towels in the bathroom.”
I rush through the house to find my mother in the kitchen, baking muffins. There’s a tin of flour spilled out on the floor. She looks up at me, as if she’s got no idea how this happened. “It just slipped from my hands.”
“It’s alright, Mom. Let me help you.” I help her to sit down at the table. Make her a cup of tea. Pop her muffins into the oven. Despite dropping the canister, they look and smell just like her batter always does, giving me a bit of hope she’s going to be alright.
I grab a broom, sweeping up the flour and toss it into the trash. I make a cup of tea and sit beside her. I’m surprised when she asks about Gabriel, after confusing him with dad last night, though the two don’t bear the slightest resemblance.
We have a pleasant chat. I find myself telling her all about him. And in the process, I realize how much he means to me already.
Soon, the smell of homemade muffins fills the kitchen. Making things feel almost normal.
The phone rings. I answer it; my mother is one of the last few people to have a landline in their home. “Hello?”
“Hello. I’m calling for Barb Montague.”
“This is her daughter speaking. May I help you?”
“Yes. That would be wonderful. My name is Sherry, calling from the Shop From Home Network. We just need to know where she wants the jacuzzi delivered. Apparently when she placed her order over the phone a few weeks ago, she gave us the credit card number and billing address, but it looks like she forgot to confirm where she was having it shipped.”
A hot tub? My mom? Growing up, my mother saved the empty sour cream containers to use for Tupperware. Frugal is her middle name. “Jacuzzi… I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.”
My mom looks up with a smile. “Who is it, dear?”
I cover the mouthpiece with my hand and smile back. “It’s for me, Mom. Enjoy your tea.”
The oven beeps and I hold the phone between my shoulder and the side of my face, stretching the cord across the room to rescue the muffins. “I think we are going to need to cancel that order.” I grab a potholder, open the oven door and slide the tin over the rack. They’re perfect. I put them on the stovetop to cool.
Shelly gives a little hmm noise. “So, um. On an order that big, I’m afraid we don’t do cancelations.”
My hand goes to my hip. “What do you mean? The thing is not here, so obviously it can be canceled.”
“It’s already been paid for. The hot tub just arrived at the warehouse. Like I said, we had the billing address. Just need to know where to deliver it to.”
“I assure you my mother has no use for a jacuzzi.” How much does a hot tub cost? Six grand? There’s no way she can afford it on her limited budget. “Can you refund it?”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid not.”
“Can you hold on just a sec?”
“Sure. No problem.”
My mom keeps all her mail in a basket beneath the phone. She always has. I flip through the papers, coupon after coupon, grocery flyer, register to vote reminder. There it is—her credit card bill. It’s the statement for last month.
My eyes fly over the pages, down the list of purchases. Shop From Home Network must be listed over twenty times, for amounts ranging anywhere from fifteen to five hundred dollars. I flip the page, scanning even more charges.
There, on the bottom of the second page, the very last item. Five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-five dollars. Making the grand total of my mother’s previous month’s expenses over twenty thousand dollars.
My stomach sinks.
Shelly gives a cough. “Ma’am. Ma’am. Are you there?”
“I’ve got to go. I promise, I’ll call you later to sort this out.” I hang up and look over at my mother. She’s smiling to herself, drinking her tea, happily reading. She’s a few pages into Mafia Mania. She looks so sweet, so innocent, my heart tears in two.
There’s no way I can leave here without her.
My mother needs full-time care. Lexi needs to be free to build her life with Tom. Me—well, I’m single. This needs to fall on my shoulders.
Gabriel comes into the kitchen, his face freshly shaved, his hair still damp. “It smells good in here. You've been baking, Mrs. Montague?”
She looks up from her book. “Gabriel? Wait, you’re not Gabriel. But you sure look familiar. I thought I knew you from somewhere. You’re Armand Olivier, aren’t you? The man from this story. What you did to poor Penny, young man, well, that was just uncalled for.” She gives a cluck of her tongue, shaking her head.