The Liar

Maybe she had to pull over three blocks away, rest her forehead on the wheel. She’d never in her life spent so much money in one place. Never in her life bought a car.

Now she let herself shake, but it wasn’t from nerves, no, not now. It was from stunning delight.

Shelby Anne Pomeroy—because that’s who she was down into it, whatever the legal papers said—had just bought a 2010 Toyota minivan in happy cherry red. By herself. On her own.

And had shaved a thousand dollars off the deal because she hadn’t been afraid to ask for it.

“We’re going to be fine, Callie,” she said, though her daughter was deep in her Shrek zone. “We’re going to be just fine.”

She used her cell, called the leasing company and arranged for them to pick up the SUV. And bearing down again, made herself ask for a ride to pick up the minivan.

Might as well deal with the insurance while she was at it, and Callie was in her zone. She’d just consider the SUV her office, temporarily.

Once she arranged for the car insurance to be transferred, she checked the online site where she’d listed the wine for sale.

“Oh my goodness, Callie, we’ve got bids!”

Delighted, fascinated, she scrolled through, adding in her head, and found over a thousand dollars already bid.

“I’m going to put another twelve bottles up tonight, that’s just what I’m going to do.”

Since it seemed her luck was running hot, she geared herself up for the drive into Philadelphia. Even with the GPS she made three wrong turns, had her belly knotted by the traffic. But she found the fur shop, hauled the never-worn chinchilla and her daughter inside.

To her surprise, no one looked at her like she was pathetic, or made her feel small for returning the coat. And that carved away a major chunk from a credit card, knocking the principal down to not-quite-as-scary, and lowered the painful interest rate.

She’d sat frozen for too long, Shelby admitted, and treated her little girl to a Happy Meal. Way, way too long. She’d broken the ice now, and damn it, she intended to make a flood.

She waited until she was out of the city again, gassed up the car—cursed the cold and the price of gas—then drove aimlessly for a while as Callie had fallen asleep.

Twice she drove by her own house—or the lender’s house—and kept going when she counted the cars out in front. That was good, of course that was good, anyone who came to look at the house could be the one to buy it. But God, she just wanted to take Callie back, settle in, work on her accounting spreadsheet.

She stalled long enough so just the realtor waited.

“Sorry, give me one minute,” Shelby said on the run. “Callie really needs to pee.”

They made it—just barely. When she went back out to the great room, the realtor sat working on her tablet.

“We had a very successful open house. Over fifty people, and this time of year that’s excellent. We had a lot of interest, and two offers.”

“Offers.” Stunned, Shelby set Callie down.

“Low offers, and I don’t think the lender’s going to accept, but it’s a good start. And we have a family of four very interested. I have a good feeling about them. They’re going to talk it over and get back to me.”

“That’s terrific.”

“I also have an offer on your master bedroom suite. One of the lookers brought her sister, and while the sister isn’t in the market for a house, she is for furniture. The offer’s a little low, in my opinion, and she’d want it right away. Monday at the latest.”

“Sold.”

The realtor laughed, then blinked in surprise when she realized Shelby meant it. “Shelby, I haven’t even told you her offer.”

“It doesn’t matter. I hate that furniture. I hate every stick of furniture in this house. Except for Callie’s room,” she amended, pushing at her hair as her daughter pulled out the basket of toys Shelby kept in one of the base kitchen cabinets. “It’s the only one where I picked everything out myself. She can come haul it away tonight, for all I care. There are plenty of other places to sleep in here.”

“Can we sit down?”

“I’m sorry, of course. I’m sorry, Ms. Tinesdale, I’m a little wound up, is all.”

“I told you to call me Donna.”

“Donna. Do you want some coffee or something? I’ve forgotten every bit of my manners.”

“Just sit. You’re dealing with a lot. Frankly, I don’t know how you’re dealing with it all. I want to help you. That’s my job. The offer for the furniture is too low. Let me make a counteroffer. There’s nothing wrong with a bargain, Shelby, but I don’t like feeling you’re getting taken advantage of. Even though it’s ugly furniture.”

“Oh!” Something inside Shelby just lit up. Like vindication. “Do you think so, too? Really?”

“Just about every piece of it, except Callie’s room.”

Shelby let out a laugh that to her shock turned to weeping in a finger snap.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

“Mama.” Callie crawled into her lap. “Don’t cry. Mama, don’t cry.”

“I’m all right.” She clutched Callie, rocked. “I’m okay. I’m just tired.”

“Mama needs a nap.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, baby. Don’t worry.”