Van. Craig. Maybe Zoe one day.
“Have you paid the rent this month at least?” Van asked, trying to keep her voice even.
Kim shrugged. “No. But it doesn’t matter. They don’t mind when I don’t pay.”
“Mr. Klein doesn’t mind?” Van still had the vivid memories of hiding behind the sofa with her mom when he’d come over and hammer on the door, demanding payment. Her mom would hold her palm over Van’s mouth as he walked around the house, peering through windows to see if they were there.
She could remember the times he’d come at night, too. Those were when her mom would let him in wearing only a shiny silk wrap and and shoo Van to her room, telling her to go to bed and not come out.
The memory sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
“Mr. Klein sold this place years ago. No idea who the landlord is now. I pay through Fairfax Realty.” She screwed her face up, and no wonder. Before Van was born, her mom worked for Johnny Fairfax as his assistant. According to the town gossip, she was fired under a black cloud, accused of stealing a large amount of money. Whether that was true or not, Van had no idea. Her mom refused to talk about it, and Van really didn’t want to know.
Didn’t stop Johnny and his wife, Nora from looking down on her when she was growing up, though. Or their daughter, Chrissie, treating Van like trash at school.
“They don’t mind when you pay the rent late?” Van asked, frowning.
“They don’t have a choice. I’ll pay when I can.” She shrugged and walked to the refrigerator, scowling when she pulled it open. “Ugh, Zoe must have finished the juice.”
“I’m going grocery shopping later. You’ll have to drink water until then.” Van took the bills and piled them up. The need to get out of this house pulled at her. “I think I’ll head into town for a while. Do some work at the diner.” She gave her mom a pointed look. “Tomorrow we need to make a budget. And talk about you getting a job.”
“Do we have to?” her mom’s voice sounded pained.
“Yes. Has Craig been in touch? Offered to send you any money?”
“Nope.” Kim’s lip wobbled. “Too busy in bed with his new woman, I’m guessing. The asshole.”
At least they could agree on one thing. Van placed the bills into her laptop bag and slid it over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know how much it hurts.”
Her mom gave her an interested look. “You’ve been hurt?”
“A long time ago,” Van said softly.
“But you don’t have anybody now, right? Not since that Damon guy a couple of years ago?”
“Nope.” Van smiled. “I’m single and happy about it. And maybe you can be, too.”
“Maybe.” Her mom didn’t sound too certain. To be honest, Van wasn’t certain either. Her mom had always based her self-worth on the way she was viewed by men. For as long as Van could remember, her mom had either been in a relationship or had some sort of arrangement with a man. These past two weeks since Craig had left was probably her driest spell in decades.
Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t leaving the house right now. Because where Van’s mom was concerned, men were almost always trouble.
The early afternoon sun was hazy as Van pushed the door to Murphy’s Diner open, the smell of bacon and coffee assaulting her senses as she grabbed a table next to the window, overlooking the town square.
She wasn’t going to try her favorite booth. Not after yesterday. Better to sit in the open and be able to see anybody who approached. That way she wouldn’t be blindsided.
“Savannah Butler? Is that you?”
Van looked up from the table, her eyeline filled with a swollen, pregnant stomach. She lifted her gaze to see its owner, a petite dark haired woman who she didn’t recognize at all.
Van immediately plastered a smile on her face. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, still trying to work out who this was. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Regan Laverty. Used to be Regan Nash. We went to high school together, you remember?”
“Oh. Hi.” Van took another look at her. Maybe she did look familiar. She stood and shook Regan’s hand. “And congratulations,” she said, glancing down at Regan’s stomach.
Regan laughed. “Thanks. This is our fourth so I don’t get a lot of that.” She lowered her voice. “It’s more commiserations than anything. Yesterday, my boss’s wife took me aside for a talk and asked if I needed her help with birth control.”
Van swallowed down a laugh. “Sounds like folks around here.”