I slipped into a pair of flats and made my way down to the kitchen. Only Maria, our housekeeper, was there and she let out an excited yelp when she saw it was me.
“Mija, you are back,” she said in her heavily accented English. She had always been one of my favorite people, having worked here for as long as I could remember. She also secretly taught me a few words of Spanish even though I wasn’t allowed to learn any per my mother’s decree. My dad was a poor Columbian immigrant and according to my mother her biggest mistake. Once he was gone she forbade any reminders he ever existed and that included the language.
I stepped into her embrace and a few tears rolled down my cheeks. She was like a surrogate mom, always looking out for me and being my sounding board when I needed it.
“I missed you,” I sniffed into her starched blouse, taking in the familiar scent of laundry detergent and food.
“Mi corazón,” she whispered and petted my back.
After a few minutes I let go and wiped my eyes with the tissue she handed me.
“I’m happy to see you, but why are you back?” she asked.
“Mother made me.”
She shook her head and got a cup out and filled it with coffee. “That woman,” she said. That was as far as she would ever go with showing her displeasure. I knew she was worked up when she didn’t say anything else. Maria always chose her words carefully and never spoke in anger. It wasn’t her way and something I wish I learned from her. Not that she didn’t try to teach me how to control my impulsiveness, but my temper usually got the best of me.
She held the coffee out to me and I gratefully took it. “Gracias,” I whispered, still too much of that frightened little girl in me to speak any language other than English in this house.
“Do you have a charger anywhere?” I asked and held up my phone. She nodded and went to rummage through a drawer, coming up with a charger.
I plugged my phone in and continued to sip my coffee. Maria hustled around the kitchen, getting lunch organized already, most likely. Meal times had to be carefully planned out, and my mother didn’t allow for anyone to be late or for a meal to be anything but what she had planned for the week.
I turned my phone back on, and it beeped a few times but otherwise stayed silent. I had a message from Willa, who was checking in, and one from Rayna, telling me she was trialing a new donut flavor and needed a taste tester.
It was nearly nine, and if I didn’t get my butt into gear, I was going to be late for work. Where I still intended to go, since all my mother had asked of me was to move back in, not to stay in the house all day. I knew it’s what she implied, but she couldn’t punish me for something that she didn’t outright order me to do.
And I would sleep here for now, to make sure Nora and the kids were fine. But I had every intention of coming up with a plan to cut my ties to her once and forever.
Maria drove me to work since she had to go into town anyway. She parked in front of the office and looked at me with sad eyes.
“Muchas gracias for driving me. I’ll get my car and drive myself back tonight,” I said.
“Don’t be late for dinner, you know how she gets.”
And did I ever. I would make sure to be there on time.
“I know. And I promise I’ll be there.”
She gave me one last sorrowful look; I knew she wanted better for me. And I wanted better for me, but that wasn’t something I could change at the moment. I had to concentrate on the things I could control. Like getting my butt inside, so I wouldn’t lose my only source of income and way out of here.
Because if there was one thing last night had shown me, it was the only person I could rely on was myself. And I had to make sure I had enough money behind me to finally leave this town behind.
The office was quiet, the only noise the hustle and bustle from the workshop. I had to talk to Mason, but as soon as I sat down at my desk the phone rang and didn’t stop until it was past lunch. I was starving and made myself a sandwich from the meager supplies. There was an old fridge in the kitchen where the guys kept their lunch and usually a few things to make a sandwich. But it looked like it hadn’t been stocked in a while.
I texted Willa while I waited for the coffee machine to heat up.
Me: Code Red. Call me.
The big machine was amazing, but so complicated I usually made myself an espresso instead of a cappuccino. I’d also broken it twice already, but lucky for me the repair guy was a good customer and didn’t charge us to fix it.
When I was finished making my sandwich, she still hadn’t responded. I took a bite and nearly spat it back out. It tasted like sawdust and I grimaced. But then again, what did I expect from stale bread and old ham. There was no butter, and we were out of cheese.
I threw it in the garbage after a few bites, not hungry enough to choke it down. I didn’t want to wait any longer to talk to Mason. I was hurt he hadn’t come to the office to speak to me. I needed to know why he left last night.
The guys were all working on cars, the music was blaring and Landon
