“Yes.” I sniffle. “He left me.”
“But a few weeks later, he sent you that necklace?”
“Yeah.”
“But he didn’t write his address on the envelope?”
“Nope.” I shake my head back and forth and regret it. Dizzy.
“And he didn’t write you a note?”
“Uh—” I stare at the back of Timmy’s head. “I’m—I don’t think so. The necklace fell out as soon as I tore it open. It was in one of those bubble envelopes.”
“You didn’t look inside?” Timmy chuckles. “Who doesn’t look inside? What if there was cash in there?”
I giggle at his question, but I can’t help wondering if that envelope is still around. I don’t remember throwing it away. “He wouldn’t send me cash. Although, that’d be nice. I could sure use it. I’m not going to be able to finish my house now.” The sniffles start up again.
Blame it on the booze.
Timmy pulls up to my dad’s house and stops. “You get something to eat and get a good night’s sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”
“What time is it?” I know it’s not terribly late because it’s still light outside.
“Four thirty.”
I start to laugh at that. “I can’t go to bed at four thirty.” I snort at the thought.
“What time did you start drinking?”
“Noon. Liquid lunch.” I add the last part to make it sounded work-related.
Ha.
“Whatever, Lou. You do you.”
Pushing open the back door to the tin box, I practically fall on my ass on the way out. “Oops,” I say then snicker. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am. Night, Lou.”
“Night, Timmy. Thanks.”
And then he’s gone. And the sight of his little silver car driving away makes me sad, suddenly. I miss him already. He’s a really great conva-conversensationalist.
“Timmy Thompson?” my dad asks from behind me. “He’s a loudmouthed gossipmonger. I hope you didn’t tell him any of your secrets.”
“Ah, Dad. He’s not so bad.” I reach for my father so I can whisper, but it comes out loud instead. “I told himallof my secrets.”
“You’re gonna regret that.” Kip Hamlin turns to walk away, but instead of walking away, he reaches for me and pulls me into his side. “Come on, angel. Let me make you something to eat.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“You’ve had a rough go, haven’t you, honey?”
His voice is so soft it makes me cry again. “Life has really given me the shaft lately, Dad. It really has.”
“It can only get better.”
I snort but I end up gagging because of it. As soon as I recover, I pat Dad on the arm. “Right. Everything’s gonna be fine and dandy, Daddy.” I laugh again. “Dandy daddy.” I say that several more times until I’m sitting at our small, round kitchen table.
