CHAPTER 1
NETTIE
Are you coming?
The words buzzedagainst the counter from where Nettie’s phone lit up, vibrating with Gina’s latest text.
Nettie shifted the crying toddler in her arms and glanced up. Through the wide front windows ofLittle Sprouts Daycare, she spotted her best friend leaning casually against a shiny new car in the parking lot. Paper plates still clung to the back of it, glaringly white in the sun, proof that Gina’s father had likely pulled some strings—or maybe just signed the finance papers faster than most.
What if buying a car was supposed to go smoothly – and not the disaster of an experience that she had run into the last two times she tried to trade in her grandmother’s car for something newer, something dependable?
I mean, who has three thousand bucks to put down on a loan?
“Not like I’m gonna find out…” she muttered under her breath as she saw Gina waving frantically like they were still fifteen and sharing secrets at the back of homeroom class,grinning ear to ear like two little mischievous imps. Gina wiggled her phone in a silent “check your messages, woman!” gesture.
Nettie wanted to laugh, wanted to roll her eyes and rush outside to fling her arms around Gina, breathe in a little of that reckless, contagious energy that always followed her best friend like a warm summer breeze. But it was autumn, and instead, reality screamed in her arms…
Literally.
Samson was teething. And not the cute, rosy-cheeked, drool-a-little-bit kind of teething. Oh no. He was red-faced, snot-bubble, hiccup-sobbing teething. His little fists shoved into his mouth, gnawing on anything he could find, including Nettie’s sweater sleeve. The poor boy let out another pitiful wail that vibrated against her chest.
She had tried everything. Frozen teether rings, soft toys, and distraction games. Nothing worked.Nothing short of whiskey on the gums,she thought grimly—and quickly reminded herself that wasn’t exactly daycare-approved.
Though, considering how bad the last time she’d had whiskey had gone, maybe she wasn’t qualified to judge. Because, yeah, the last time Gina had dragged her out for “fun,” Nettie had ended up being the one who was sobbing drunkenly after a single shot.
One. Shot.
Pitiful.
Her phone dinged again. Nettie shifted Samson to one arm, swiped the screen with her free hand, and read:
Dudette – new car – let’s goooooo!
Nettie’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles despite herself. Of course, Gina couldn’t just wait. She always had the urgency of a thunderstorm rolling in and zero clue about real-life problems– such as bills, debt, upkeep on an old house, not to mention an old car to boot.
Dudette – work pays the bills, remember?
I can’t leave for another forty minutes. And why do you and Shannon insist on calling me Dudette anyhow?
The answer was instant, as if Gina had been waiting to pounce:
Nettie is an old lady’s name
According to Shannon, of course.
Nettie rolled her eyes skyward. “Of course it’s Shannon who says that,” she muttered again. Gina would never say that. She might say everything else under the sun, but notthat.
Samson hiccupped miserably, drool soaking into her shirt. Today was not an ideal workday. No, in fact, today was a day that made her reconsider her career, her degree, everything. Liquidating everything and running away to some South American country sounded so good right now, except it wouldn’t be coconut drinks on a beach. She’d probably be living in a hut, raising guinea pigs for dinner, and weaving baskets or whatever general stereotype came with the idea.
Sometimes stereotypes couldn’t be helped.
Switzerland, she thought of blondes, chocolate, and snow – when in fact, that wasn’t the case all. Stereotypes and assumptions just weren’t all it was cracked up to be… just like assumptions about Texas, everyone assumed they all wore boots, spit chewing tobacco, and rode horses everywhere. Life in the DFW area was hardly that.
She patted Samson’s back soothingly and scanned the room.
Chaos.
Pure and utter chaos… on a tiny level with epic magnitude of disgusting annoyance.
