“You kept those stupid things?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.
“Are you joking? You were pretty much famous.”
“Tell that to my agency,” I mumbled, pushing food around on my plate with one of Lulu’s heirloom forks. I guess Ester hadn’t influenced her too much. Yet. “I wasn’t ‘pretty much famous’ enough to keep them from pretty much dropping my ass.”
“Morons.” She scoffed. “The world is full of them. It doesn’t take anything away from you.”
“Except an income,” I answered. “Speaking of which …” I wriggled uncomfortably in my chair. “I owe you a lot of money. I haven’t forgotten about that, and I will absolutely pay you back once—”
“Enough,” she said, raising her hand in stop-right-there fashion. “You’ve had a rough go of things, Char. Money should be the least of your worries.”
“Tell that to Medi-Collections. They’ve called me twice this week. Turns out chemo isn’t cheap.”
Images of my mother, of the way she looked at the end, strapped to machines and struggling for air, assaulted me the way the cancer had assaulted her. As always, tears stung my eyes.
Keep it together, Char. Streaky-mascara-face is not your best look.
I blinked hard and stared at my place. “I just want you to know I don’t expect a free ride.”
“And you aren’t getting one,” Lulu answered, reaching across the table to place her hand on mine. “You’re not here for nothing, Char.” She gave my fingers a little jiggle. “With Eddie gone so much for work, it’s not really feasible for me to be by myself right now, especially with Jack.”
“‘Cause I do such an amazing job watching him,” I muttered. “I really am sorry about earlier. What about the guy who’s supposed to fix the fence?”
Lulu sighed and pulled her hand back to beside her plate. “Ester texted me before we sat down. The project at the Coleman Mill is running long. They’re going to be three days. At the earliest.”
The anxiety in her tone didn’t make sense. It was only a fence. Not even the whole thing—just a single board … half of a board, actually. What was the big deal? But the way Lulu’s hands twisted around her napkin told me it was a big deal to her.
“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “Eddie left the gun.”
“The gun?” I almost choked on the air, my eyes flying wide. “Lulu, I get that your friends probably expect things to be perfect around here—Lord knows Ester seems like the type—but it’s a piece of wood. What the hell do you need a gun for?”
Her eyes moved over to Jack. Her hands gripped the napkin even tighter. “It’s nothing,” she said, almost panting. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Because I’m not a mom?” I asked, already sick of that notion.
“Because you’re not from here,” she answered. “At least not lately. New Haven isn’t the same place we grew up in, Char. Things have changed, and we’ve had to change with them. The woods are part of that.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, tilting my head. “How could the woods change?”
“Look.” Lulu swigged another sip of water. “It’s not important, and neither is this whole money thing. Eddie makes a good living, certainly good enough that you don’t have to worry about stupid stuff like paying me back for snacks or whatever ridiculousness is cooking in that whacked out brain of yours.”
“I just want to do something. I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” I lamented, remembering what Ester had said.
“Then do something,” Lulu answered. “Get a job if you want. I, for one, would love the idea of you sticking around for more than a few weeks. Who knows, you might even find that this is somewhere you can call home again. Until then, my guest room definitely is.”
She stood, cradling her pregnant stomach and letting out the sort of belch girls only do when guys aren’t present.
“That was amazing. Thank you.” She smiled, the first non-strained gesture she’d made since the fence incident. “But I think Jack here is getting drowsy, and I need to sleep for a week after that.” She pulled Jack gently from his booster seat and took his hand. “Just remember to lock up before you go to bed, okay?”
I nodded.
Lock up. Right. Then she won’t need the gun.
Ugh.
“And Char,” she called over her shoulder from the kitchen doorway. “Do try not to be so hard on yourself. These morons out here, they don’t know the girl that I do.”
***
I should have known better than to ever think Lulu would let one little transgression taint a friendship that had survived almost a decade of not being in the same zip code.