“This is Whit Proffitt,” the man said, breaking through the lingering haze clouding my brain. “Montgomery Proffitt was my father.”
My stomach sank.
Perfect.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Proffitt, your father’s attorney already told me that my son and I are being kicked out.”
“That’s why I’m calling,” he replied. “I just spoke to Mr. Briggs. He shared how his conversation with you went, so I wanted to call myself. I’m sorry for how he broke the news to you. It could’ve been handled better.”
“I don’t know how exactly that kind of news could be handledbetter,” I retorted. “No matter how you say it, I’m still going to be homeless.”
“Ms. Dupont—"
“I need to take my son to the doctor, Mr. Proffitt,” I interrupted, impatient to be off the phone. “I have to go.”
I hung up before he could respond, then got to my feet, groaning under Henry’s dead weight. I kissed his damp curls, then surveyed the dingy walls of our little house. Yellowing paint. Grease splatter baked in from decades of various renters’ fried chicken, pork chops, okra. Furniture thrifted or scavenged. Second-hand art. Almost everything I owned was someone else’s discarded trash I’d snatched up, pretending the mismatched styles were eclectic. The place was a dump, no question. It was no wonder Whit Proffitt and his father’s attorney were eager to offload it. But it was myhome.
And I was losing it.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, the last of the pain from my headache thankfully tapering off. Then I snatched up my purse and keys and carried Henry out to my old sedan. His eyes fluttered open briefly when I sat him in his booster seat, and he gave me a small, fever-weary smile that pierced straight through the dark cloud descending on me.
Whatever else was going on would have to wait until after the clinic. He was my top priority. Always. The rest was just shit to figure out.
An hour and a half later, I stepped out of the community clinic, medicine for Henry in hand and a knot in my stomach. The visit had cost more than I’d expected—because of course it had. But what was I supposed to do? I’d have to budget a lot tighter, maybe visit the church food pantry—something I hadn’t done in a while. If it had just been me, I could’ve gotten by with bread and peanut butter. But my pride wouldn’t fill Henry’s belly.
“Mama, my throat still hurts,” Henry rasped as I buckled him in, his voice so small it broke my heart.
“I know, baby,” I murmured, kissing his forehead. “We’re going to get you feeling better in no time. Should we get you some popsicles?”
He nodded, his lower lip trembling. “Orange, please, Mama.”
I pinched his chin gently. “You got it.”
I climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine chugged and whined, then fell silent. “No, no, no. Not now…”
I tried again. Same miserable sputter. Same refusal to cooperate.
I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, a strangled sound tearing loose before I could stop it.
“Mama?” Henry asked softly. “Are you okay? We don’t have to get popsicles.”
My heart broke right down the middle. I forced a smile over my shoulder. “I’m fine, baby. The car’s being grumpy again. I’m sorry if I scared you. It’s not about the popsicles, I promise.”
My phone rang—shrill, insistent. I answered without looking.
“What?”
“Ms. Dupont—”
“Jesus,really?” I muttered. I brushed my hair back from my face and closed my eyes, emotionally exhausted. “Mr. Proffitt, I’ve got a sick kid and a broken-down car in front of the clinic. I really can’t deal with this today.”
“I think I might have a solution for you,” he said quickly, before I could hang up on him again. “We have a property in Savannah that just became availableunexpectedly. The building is still undergoing renovations, but the apartment is mostly furnished. I’ll honor my father’s arrangement for a few months. After that, we can figure something out.”
I sat in stunned silence, staring out the cracked windshield at the waves of heat rising from the asphalt, blurring the path before me.
A solution.
My initial impulse was to not trust his offer. I could count on one hand the times someone’s kindness to me hadn’t come with strings attached. But panic squeezed my lungs, reminding me I didn’t exactly have a lot of options.
