“I can promise you it wasn’t, sir.”
“That’s what they tell me.” His smile was tired. “Listen—if you’re working for me, and you get your one year chip from NA, I’ll give you a bonus.”
“That’s, uh, a really generous thing to say. I’m going to make it to one year and then keep on going.” I hadn’t ever announced that out loud before, but it felt good to hear myself say it.
Some people beat this thing. Why not me, right?
“Let’s get you that application.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long did you say it would take that cast to come off?”
“Ten days.”
“That’s good news, Jude. Good news indeed.”
*
I sat in the Avenger and called Sophie, just to hear her voice.
“Jude?”
The sound of my name on her lips made me close my eyes in gratitude. “Hi, baby. How are you doing?”
“I’m nervous about tomorrow,” she confessed. She was having her Come-to-Jesus meeting with the hospital boss. “It’s going to stink to hear him tell me I didn’t get the job, even if I already understand why.”
I wanted to argue with that assumption, because Sophie was everything to me and I couldn’t imagine anyone turning her down. “No matter what they say, I’ll hold you tight next time I see you.”
“Promises, promises. Are you heading to the Shipleys’ tonight?”
“Sure am. Sneak out and come with me? Take your mind off your troubles?”
“God, I want to. But I’m making stuffed chicken breasts and trying to get Mom involved. Today I basically told her I was going to move out and probably leave Colebury to find a new job.”
“How’d she take it?”
“She was…” Sophie sighed. “Resigned, I guess. But I asked her to cook with me tonight and she said she would. But we’ll see.”
“Okay. I’ll be patient.”
“Love you!”
“Back atcha babe. Later.”
I hung up without telling her about Mr. Marker’s job offer. If Sophie didn’t get the job she wanted in Montpelier, I didn’t want her to mourn the fact that I’d somehow landed one just on the other end of town.
After a couple hours in the shop I headed over to the Shipleys. In addition to the cake I bought at Crumbs on the way out of town, I bought Zachariah a case of fancy beer. Lawson’s Liquids’ Sip of Sunshine was one of the craft beers that people drove from out of state to try.
When I went to prison, beer was just beer. When I came out, the whole world had gone crazy for Vermont brews. I didn’t really get it.
“Here, man,” I said, pressing it into Zach’s hands when I found him in Ruth Shipley’s kitchen. “This is for finding me a job.”
“Finding…really?” he asked.
“Really. Marker will hire me, even with the felony conviction.”
“SCORE!” Griff shouted, thumping me on the back, and then all the women piled on to hug me.
Life could really be worse.
“Zach, can I have one of your fancy brews?” Griff asked. “I’ll be your best friend.”
“Well, in that case,” Zach said, tugging one out of its cardboard restraints.
“Do you need a glass?” Ruth asked as Griff popped the top of the can and immediately took a sip.
“No way! Cans are in again, Mom. You’re supposed to drink it out of the can so you don’t oxidize it with a quick pour.”
“Yeah, I just hate accidental oxidation!” Audrey teased, removing the can from Griff’s big hand.
“Hey! Stop, thief!”
She sipped. “Wow. I’m keeping this.”
Without a word, Zach tugged another can out of the case and handed it to Griffin.
“Griffin, give your grandfather the ten-minute warning,” Ruth demanded. “And find Daphne so she can set the table.”
“I’ll set the table,” I offered quickly. “My sling is gone. That’s my other news. Oh—and Sophie and I patched things up.”
“WHAT?” Daphne hollered from the kitchen. “Back up. You’re back together with Sophie?”
“Yeah.” I pulled open the linens drawer in the dining room hutch. “The green napkins or the white?”
“Green!” Ruth called at the same time as May yelled, “White.”
Right. I pulled out the green because Ruth had more clout.
Audrey came through the room again to set a salad on the table. “You are full of good news tonight,” she said.
I really was.
Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sophie
Internal DJ set to: “Tradition” from Fiddler on the Roof
At five o’clock I walked into my mother’s room and stood bodily between her and her television. “Time to make the chicken,” I announced.
It was bossy, but it worked.
With a sigh she clicked off the television and followed me into the kitchen.
“I got six breasts so we could have leftovers. And I already zested the lemon. Now what?” I’d chosen this recipe tonight because it was one of Mom’s specialties back in the day, and I told her I had a craving for it. Of course, I really had a craving for her to get her skinny butt into the kitchen and act like her former self.