A dinging sound filtered through the line. “I’ll have papers drawn up outlining the guardianship. Once I have those in place, I can take everything to the powers that be. Any questions for me?”
“Between both charges, what’s the maximum jail time?”
“Worse case: Three years.”
I lost my breath. I wasn’t sure my mother would last that long in jail. “And the fine?”
“As I mentioned, up to four thousand.”
I’d planned on getting my car out of impound, which should be about two hundred dollars, but was my car drivable? If not, then that would be more money. Plus, I still had to pay the rent on the house.
“Thank you, Mr. Furlong. I really appreciate you going to bat for my mom.”
“You’re welcome. Talk to the Armstrongs, and if they agree, have either of them call me.”
No sooner had the call ended than a knock sounded on the bedroom door. “Mazzie.” Mrs. Armstrong’s soft voice came through before she entered. She took one look at me and asked, “What’s wrong?”
I must have shock written all over me. “I just talked to my mom’s lawyer. She could get up to three years in jail.”
She glided over to me, wearing expensive clothes that screamed high society—a soft-yellow ankle-length skirt beneath a white off-the-shoulder top with cream-colored leather flats, and diamond earrings to match the three karats on her wedding finger. “I’m so sorry.” She sat on the edge of the bed, her green eyes swimming with concern. “You know you and Kaylee have a home here for as long as necessary.”
I slumped in the chair. “Thank you. But…” How do I ask her to foster Kaylee?
“Talk to me,” she said.
“Mr. Furlong asked if you and Dr. Armstrong would be willing to be Kaylee’s guardian for at least a year.”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation.
I jumped off the chair and threw myself at Bailey’s mom, blubbering against her white top.
She rubbed my back. “Oh, honey. I hate that you have the world on your shoulders. I’m here to help.”
I straightened, dashing tears from my face. “Thank you so much. But I want to earn my keep around here or at least pay for food.”
Standing, she flicked her dainty fingers through my hair. “Nonsense. I will not accept any of that. What I would like you to do is go downstairs and let that hunk of a football player take you to dinner.”
I laughed through tears. “Lucas is here? He’s early. But we’re not going to dinner. He’s taking me over to my mom’s house. I need to grab things and figure out the bills.”
She gave me a warm smile. “What do I need to do for Mr. Furlong?”
I filled her in on the entire conversation I’d had with him.
After I finished, she said, “Send me his info. I’ll call him. From here, you let me worry about the rest.”
I hugged her tightly, squeezing the life out of her. “You’re an angel, Mrs. Armstrong.”
“Don’t make me cry. Now, freshen up, and go have a good time with Lucas.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Relief flooded through my veins. “I want to give Kaylee the good news before I leave, if you’re sure.” I needed a second confirmation despite how resolute Mrs. Armstrong had been. After all, it was a big ask.
“Darlin’, I have no reservations about fostering Kaylee. I absolutely adore her as if she were my own child. As I do you. I don’t want you to bring this up again.” Her motherly tone put me in my place. “And, Mazzie, call me Catherine, please.”
“Okay,” I said as she walked out.
I was over the moon that CPS would no longer be a concern and that Kaylee would be able to be a kid and thrive with people I trusted rather than strangers. One problem off my plate. But it was the most important one that I’d been losing sleep over. I had no control over what the judge would rule in my mom’s case, although I felt at fault that I hadn’t had my phone beside me the night of the accident. If I hadn’t been in the throes of sex, my mom might not be in jail.
You can’t blame yourself. And you can’t change what happened.
