As with most nights, I fell asleep wishing the divorce was over, and praying tomorrow would come with good news of some kind on that front. Until I had the finalized paperwork in my hand, the feeling of dread would only grow.
I tossed and turned through the wee hours, cursing a beam of moonlight that shone onto my closed eyes. The threadbare blinds were useless. Something furry brushed against my foot and I pulled my leg beneath the blanket. “It’s not time for breakfast,” I moaned and buried my face against the pillow.
The cat rooted around my narrow bed until the peanut butter jar fell onto the ground and rolled to a stop. I’d been too lazy to put the snack away or brush my teeth. That second point could be a problem. Was I depressed? Or just exhausted? I didn’t want to start down a path like Mom’s. Owning a cat who never let me sleep certainly didn’t help my mental health.
I listened as Raisin pawed and grunted at the jar. Hopefully peanut butter wouldn’t make him sick. I couldn’t afford a vet bill and didn’t want to clean a disgusting mess.
My groggy mental wheels screeched to a stop, then reversed.
I’d left Raisin in the house tonight. Hadn’t I?
I rolled onto my opposite side, eyes pinched shut, then carefully peeked over the bed’s edge to the floor.
The dark fur shifted beneath the moonlight, and a shiny-eyed raccoon looked up at me.
“Ahhhh!” I launched upright, blanket gathered around my chest.
The creature reared back, tiny black hands raised in defense.
I sucked in a long, laborious breath, then screamed some more. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
The raccoon made a grunting sound and moved toward the jar, as if I might want it.
The only thing I wanted was away from the trailer, the animal, and any fleas, ticks, or rabies it might be carrying.
I leaped past him on a bolt of adrenaline, blanket still clutched in my grip. I threw myself into the night with a gut-wrenching wail. The comforter tangled around my feet on the stairs, and I pitched forward, bouncing hard against the ground. A lowoofwrenched from my core as the air left my lungs.
I opened my mouth to scream again but only managed a small wheeze.
Neighborhood dogs barked and porch lights flickered on. Bats circled in the sky above my chimney.
I rolled onto my hands and knees, picturing the animal on my heels as I bumbled toward Ilona’s house.
Her back door swung open as I reached her patio. “What the—?”
I made a croaking sound, still unable to catch my breath, then tripped on her garden hose.
“Heavens!” Ilona crouched at my side, helping me upright as tears streamed down my dirty cheeks.
Across our joined lawns, the raccoon carried my peanut butter jar into the night.
Chapter Thirteen
I slept at Ilona’s house that night, after showering the dirt and grass from my body. The water was hot, and her spare bedroom smelled of vanilla and lavender. My tired limbs melted into the cool sheets and didn’t move until well after dawn.
When I made it downstairs to her kitchen the next morning, she brewed a pot of mint tea, and I made pancakes. It was the kind of morning I’d shared with Camilla a thousand times, and the quiet peace made me miss my mom.
At home, the bat abatement crew arrived as promised, and the process of thoroughly, professionally disinfecting the attic went off without a hitch. Which was perfect, because I was never sleeping in the trailer again. In fact, I sold the old eyesore on Craigslist within hours, and the new owner hauled it away sans fanfare. I hoped, for the buyer’s sake, the raccoon wasn’t hiding inside.
My life was looking better by the hour.
I held my breath as I checked my website for the Invisible Baker. Three fresh orders awaited me, despite the price increases, and my smile grew wide. I noodled on the best recipes to fulfill the requests, then grabbed my purse for a grocery run.
The sun shone bright in the afternoon sky, scorching the leather seats inside my SUV. I pumped the air-conditioning as I motored toward downtown.
I called Camilla, reminding her I loved her, and emphasizing the importance of packing sunscreen for her trip to the Maldives. I bit my tongue against the urge to say more. Like “Don’t get engaged!” And “There’s plenty of time to marry later. If he asks just say no.”
I slowed at the light on the corner of First and Main, enjoying the view of our quaint riverfront town. Chez Margot beckoned me from across the intersection, with its delicious foods, welcoming atmosphere, and handsome owner. I found something about Lucas so wholesome and genuine. He crossed my mind more often than I liked, but always in pleasant ways. If his personality wasn’t an act for the sake of his business, I supposed it was possible that not all men were completely awful. And Alicia hadn’t found the only nonawful one.
