Mrs Hamilton laughed. "Ms Miller, you misunderstand again. Zara's tuition for the rest of her schooling has been paid in advance."
Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the frazzled nerves. Maybe it was those experimental drugs in Europe. But I was just not understanding. I was about to protest when my cell phone rang. I was going to send the call to voicemail but decided to answer when I saw it was my landlord.
"Lisa, hey, I swear the cheque's in the mail and— What? No, no, you can't. I— Goddammit. I'm on my way." I hung up.
Mrs Hamilton raised her eyebrows. "Trouble?"
I sighed as I pushed myself up to my feet. "Always."
I snatched up Zara on the way out of the office and pulled her running along behind me.
"Mom, is something wrong?" she asked, the contents of her backpack jumbling like the coins in my cookie jar.
I forced a smile down at her. "Nope," I said. "No, nope. Nothing wrong."
"Why are we running?"
I pushed open the door at the end of the hallway leading out into the parking lot and fumbled around in my purse for my keys while struggling to keep hold of the cookie jar.
"Running's good for you!"
Smoke was streaming out from beneath the hood of my car, and there was the distinct smell of burnt rubber as I came to screeching halt outside the apartment, a trail of black marks behind me. I hopped out and leaned in through the back window to squeeze Zara's knee.
"Stay here just a second, okay?"
Zara frowned up at me with those green eyes. "Mom, I can help," she said.
Her words felt like a stab to my heart. I shook my head.
"Nothing to help with, baby," I told her, speaking quickly as my eyes darted to the landlord locking my front door. "Everything's fine."
I patted Zara's knee once more and then took the stairs two at a time, arriving outside my door completely out of breath.
"Lisa, I told you yesterday the cheque's in the mail," I gasped, bending over at the waist and pinching my side.
"Look, Abbi, you've been an okay tenant, but I got an offer I couldn't really refuse, and you have been late more times than not the last few months."
Getting angry wasn't exactly the most diplomatic of responses, but when the hell have I ever been diplomatic?
"An offer you couldn't refuse?" I asked, straightening and blocking the sun with my hand. "On this shit hole? You're fucking full of it, Lisa."
Lisa's eyes narrowed. She pulled an envelope from her back pocket and shoved it against my chest.
"Your lease is up, and the only condition of the next tenant was that I give you this."
She stormed past me and down the stairs, calling back, "Call me to arrange a time to get your things from 'this shit hole', Abbi."
I glared after her, letting the envelope fall to the concrete as I balled my fists, bit my lip, and screamed silently so Zara couldn't hear me. I wanted to kick the door and pound on it with my fists, but I knew she could see me.
After squeezing my eyes shut, I went to leave and remembered the envelope. What the fuck would the next tenant want to give me?
I retrieved the envelope. Inside was a key and a card with an address. I stared at it for one long moment. What the hell was this about?
Back in the car, I drummed the card on the steering wheel.
"Did we get kicked out?" Zara asked from the back seat.
I looked at her in the rearview mirror. Drawing up a smile felt like lifting weights far too heavy for me.
"How about a little drive?" I asked.
The GPS on my phone took us through Denver and into a quiet suburb with brick homes with actual lawns. I double-checked the address when I came to a stop outside a quaint home with a large wrap-around fence, big oaks in the front lawn, and a peaked roof where a small balcony overlooked the Rockies.
"What are we doing here?" Zara asked.
I ducked to see more of the house through the dust-covered windshield.
"I'm not sure."
In my lap, I played with the key and bit my lip as I stared at the charming periwinkle door which matched the shutters on the big bay windows.
"Are we going inside?"
I shifted around in my seat to look back at Zara. I flashed her the key.
"Should we try?"
Zara turned to the house and then nodded. We held hands as we walked along the cobblestone path lined with rose bushes to the porch. We looked at each other as we stopped in front of the door. I offered her the key.
She pressed it into the lock, and it slid in without resistance. She looked to me for approval and I shrugged. I didn't have the answers anymore. The lock clicked and Zara pushed the door open. She stepped into the house, but I hesitated on the doormat outside.
Inside seemed like a dream. Soft afternoon sunlight drifted through tall windows over warm wood floors. The furnishing was cosy and intimate. I could easily imagine winter nights curled up in front of the living room fire, rainy mornings coming down the wide staircase to the smell of fresh coffee, lazy afternoons reading at the breakfast nook at the back of the house.
"Mom," Zara came running back down the stairs with wide eyes, "there's a library in the attic!"
I managed something close to a smile as I finally stepped inside. Zara came running up to me and grabbed hold of my arm, excitement in her eyes.
"Is this ours, Mom?" she asked, tugging at my arm. "Is this our new home?"
I looked around the house. There was only one
