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She looked at me, held up her hands, and gestured to the blanket.

“What, you don’t like this?” She indicated the jacket.

I grinned, then studied it.

“It looks like one of those jackets you get at the Ice Place in Dallas,” I said. “Did you steal it?”

She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Not… exactly.”

I snorted.

“They had those out at Disney on Ice. And they make you pay for it if you don’t give it back,” I said.

“That’s true,” she said. “But I stole it from the ex. He bought it for his ex, but he never gave it to her.”

I snorted.

“That’s a lie,” I said. “He probably just didn’t want to hear you bitching about wearing another girl’s clothes.”

She pursed her lips, then shook her head.

“I’m not contemplating that right now,” she ignored me. “Now move over so I can get into the freezer.”

I moved, leaning my hips against the counter, unfolding the blanket.

Once I’d wrapped it around myself, I watched as she practically disappeared into the large deep freezer.

“When I got on house arrest,” she chattered. “Naomi brought me a shit ton of meat and staples,” she said from somewhere deep in the freezer. She emerged long moments later with her hands full of foil pans. “And I sat down and made a shit ton of freezer meals.”

“That’s convenient,” I murmured.

My cell phone vibrated, and I pulled it out without looking at the display.

“Hey do you want…” I held up my finger and then put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Who was that?” My daughter asked rudely.

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and raised my hand so I could pinch the bridge of my nose.

“That would be my neighbor,” I said. “How are you, baby?”

“There isn’t any school tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could give me a ride to the mall,” Attie said snottily.

I looked out the kitchen window, saw that the snow was still coming down, and promptly said, “No.”

“Why not?” She challenged.

“Because you don’t need to be going out in this. Nobody knows how to drive in it, and I don’t see any reason to risk your life so you can go shop at the mall.”

“Mom said I could,” Attie snapped.

“Well, your mom,” I said patiently. “Doesn’t work in the emergency services field. She’s a checker at the grocery store two doors down from your house. She doesn’t see what I see when the roads get bad and people unnecessarily travel on them.”

My daughter, my sweet baby girl, had developed a deep seated hate for me, and I didn’t know why.