What To Do About Wednesday Read online

  She remembered now. “Yeah, hilarious.”

  “What does it matter what name I used? I fit the requirements you laid out. You said you were looking for someone who was semi-tidy, easy-going, and had a sense of humor. And I always could make you laugh.”

  That was a long time ago. And she wasn’t laughing now. “It also said ‘non-smoker’.”

  “That’s good. Because I quit.”

  Piper glanced down at her mom’s hands. Before she ran off with the motorcycle gang, Claire had been a beautician and had always prided herself on her hair and nails. Now her mom’s nails were unpainted, and appeared dry and brittle. But they didn’t carry the tell-tale yellow stains nicotine could often leave.

  “Look, Pip, I already paid the landlord my share of this month’s rent, so you’re stuck with me for now. So, are you going to invite me, or what?”

  She winced at the old nickname and the fact she now was indeed stuck. If Claire had already paid the rent, she couldn’t very well turn her out. Especially if she’d just saved her bacon, and her apartment. She took a step back. “Fine.”

  Her mom picked up her bags and stepped into the room.

  Piper peered out into the hall. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”

  “This is it. I travel light.”

  “I know. That’s because you usually travel without your kid.”

  Claire raised a penciled eyebrow. “I can see you still have the attitude.”

  Piper ignored the dig and closed the door. “The place is kind of small. Two bedrooms and we have to share a bathroom.”

  Claire looked around the apartment. “This is nice. I like the set-up of the kitchen and the living room together. And it’s bigger than that place we had over on Water Street. Remember the one-bedroom apartment we had with the electric blue carpeting?”

  Piper remembered. She remembered everything. And she’d actually loved that small apartment. Even loved the blue carpet. It reminded her of Cookie Monster. But she especially loved the way she and her mom felt like a team—like it was them against the world. But that was before. Before her mom went off the rails. Before she started having her nightly rum and cokes—just to take the edge off and help her get to sleep.

  Piper pointed to the door to the left of the kitchen. “That’s your room.”

  Claire lowered her voice and lifted her chin toward the bedroom. “Is that where it happened? Where the girl was…?”

  “Murdered?” Piper shook her head. “No. She was killed pretty much where you’re standing right now.”

  Claire leapt away from the spot, high-stepping her feet as if she were walking on hot coals. She stopped on the other side of the table and smoothed her hair, as if trying to compose herself. “Poor thing. Have they heard anything? Made any progress in the case?”

  “No. Not that I know of.”

  Claire narrowed her eyes and studied her daughter. “You okay? This has got to freak you out a little.”

  “Your concern is touching.” Although it was about three years too late. “I’m fine.”

  Her mom held up her hands. “Okay. I was just asking.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Claire shrugged then picked up her bags and carried them into her room.

  Piper stood still, listening as her mom walked around the bedroom and flung the suitcase on the bed. She could hear the whisper of the zipper, the flop of the lid, and the soft slide of the dresser drawers.

  She should go to her own room—let her mom have some space. It’s not like she cared what she was doing in there.

  But her feet carried her forward, as if they had a mind of their own. Only to the threshold, though. She couldn’t make herself actually enter the room.

  She leaned against the door jam and watched her mother unpack her meager belongings. The suitcase was stuffed full of a hodgepodge of items that looked like they’d been thrown in at the last minute.

  Claire lifted a small stack of clothes from the suitcase and dumped it into the drawers, then pulled out a couple bags of toiletries and tossed them on top of the dresser. Piper recognized the slim green bag which held her beautician tools, easily capturing memories of haircuts and her mom fixing her hair.

  A lump formed in Piper’s throat as Claire took a framed photo from her bag and tenderly brushed the side of the frame before setting it up on the nightstand.

  Piper recognized the photo—it had sat on their mantel for most of her life, and had always been one of her favorites.

  It had been taken when she was about seven or eight, and before her dad had died. Back in the days when their life was good—when they were happy. The three of them had been goofing around at a summer barbecue in Cassie’s backyard, and her aunt had snapped the picture. It showed her mom and dad with their arms wrapped around Piper, who was beaming up at them, a happy smile on her face, her lips ringed with pink from the red Kool-Aid she’d been drinking.

  James (Denny) Denton had been the rock of their family, and their world had crashed down around them when he’d died—as if their life had been one more piece of collateral damage his motorcycle accident had taken.

  For Piper, she’d lost both of her parents that night. After Denny died, her mom changed and nothing was ever the same. It was like she fell into this pit of despair and never could pull herself out. Piper tried to help—tried everything she could to reach her, to drag her from the pit. But no matter how many ropes Piper threw in to save her, she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, ever grab one.

  But that picture had been taken before—before the crash, before the devastation of their lives.

  The photo exuded love and joy, and it hurt her heart to look at it.

  She swallowed the emotion—cleared her throat as if she could cough away the pain and grief. Why was her mom even carrying it around with her? It’s not like she cared about any of that now. Now she seemed to only care about herself.

  The room still seemed bare, even though Claire had apparently finished her unpacking.

  Piper gestured to the bare mattress. “I’ve got an extra set of sheets for the bed, if you need them.”

  “Thanks. That would be great. I left in a bit of a hurry and didn’t get to grab all my things.” Claire let out a bitter laugh. “And there were some things I left behind on purpose.” She dumped the rest of the bag’s contents into the next empty drawer then closed the suitcase and pushed it under the bed, mumbling to herself, “Like my pride.”

  Piper noticed she’d pushed the duffel bag under the bed as well. Why hadn’t she unpacked it?

  Was there something in it she didn’t want Piper to see?

  Geez—she was starting to sound like Edna—looking for suspicion and mystery in everything. It was probably just her bras and undies.

  “I’ll figure out what all I need and go shopping later this week,” Claire said, offering her a smile.

  Piper couldn’t smile back. It was as if her face were trapped in a permanent scowl. “Sure. It’s your life. You can do whatever you want.” That’s what she’d been doing the last several years anyway. Ever since Denny had died.

  Claire pulled her smart phone from her pocket and held it up. “I didn’t forget the third roommate requirement. I have a subscription to Netflix—just got it today. Do you want to order a pizza and binge-watch a series or something?”

  Yeah, right. Maybe she and her mom could cuddle up on the sofa and binge out on The Gilmore Girls—that sounded just peachy.

  “No. I’m good. I’ve got homework tonight.”

  “Okay, sure. That’s smart. School always come first.” She stood next to the bed, chewing on her bottom lip—a sign Piper knew meant she was either nervous or going to ask her a favor. Like to borrow twenty bucks.

  “Was there something else?” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but failed. Miserably.

  “No. Not really. Just talking about pizza made me hungry. How about you? Do you want me to order one, or maybe I could make us something? I didn�
�t have time to get groceries, but if you have some bread and cheese, I can make you one of Mom’s Famous Cheesy Melt Sandwiches.”

  Her mom loved to give ordinary things extraordinary titles, as if calling it a Famous Cheesy Melt made an average grilled cheese sandwich something special.

  “I’ll pass.”

  She pretended not to see the look of hurt shadow her mother’s eyes.

  Too bad. She’d had plenty of hurt. And most of it had been her mom’s doing. A grilled cheese sandwich wasn’t going to make up for abandoning her.

  “I’m not hungry. I’ll be in my room. But you’re welcome to help yourself.”

  Claire’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll pick up some groceries tomorrow.”

  “Whatever.”

  The next day Claire did indeed pick up groceries. Lots of them.

  It was midafternoon and Piper had skipped lunch as she focused on her homework. Claire had taken off a couple of hours ago, and she’d tried to make the best use of the time her mother was gone.

  Something about her mom being in the apartment made it hard for her to concentrate on anything besides the fact her mother was in the next room. Although she had slept better the night before. But she was only contributing that to the fact she wasn’t alone in the apartment.

  She had a short shift at The Perk this afternoon, then book club was at her place tonight, so she’d been trying to get everything done. The apartment was in good shape since she’d cleaned it the day before in preparation for her new roomie.

  She’d just finished turning in the last assignment when the front door burst open, and Claire rushed in, her arms laden with grocery bags.

  “I hope you’re hungry, because I bought a roast chicken, and I can’t eat it all myself,” she said, dumping the bags on the counter. “I noticed your cupboards were a little bare, so I thought I could help by filling them up. I may have gone a little overboard.” She offered Piper a sheepish grin.

  A little overboard? The woman had just carried in eight bags of groceries and a roast chicken. Which Piper would, of course, refuse to eat.

  Her stomach growled in protest. Okay, she might eat a little.

  “I’ve got more stuff in the car,” Claire said, heading back out the front door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Piper followed her out. Her mother had just bought them a crap-ton of groceries—the least she could do was help her to carry them in.

  An older model blue Toyota sat at the curb, its paint so faded it looked almost silver. Claire hadn’t had a vehicle when she’d left a few months ago, and this one looked like the kind of car that could be purchased with a handful of cash at one of those corner used car lots.

  Not for the first time, Piper wondered what kind of life her mom had been leading in the past several months.

  And where had she gotten the money to buy all this stuff?

  The back seat of the car was filled with grocery bags and white sacks from Bed, Bath, & Beyond. A new pillow and a purple comforter set in a giant plastic bag filled the front seat.

  “Geez, you really went on a shopping spree,” Piper said, grabbing a handful of bags.

  Claire shrugged. “It looks like more than it is. And you know I’ve always been a good shopper. Plus, I had some coupons.”

  It was true. Her mom had always known how to stretch a dollar. In the beginning, before Claire had fallen into the pit, they’d made a game of trying to find great deals or figuring out how to make the best meal for the smallest amount of money.

  Her mom used to always do stuff like that. She was constantly turning menial tasks into games or making the most mundane things fun.

  But that was before.

  Piper had almost smiled as her mom shook a box of mac and cheese and proclaimed, “Four for a dollar, baby,” but instead, she stuffed down those thoughts of fun times and hauled the groceries into the apartment.

  It took one more trip to get everything in. Her mom must have filled the whole cart because the kitchen was covered in grocery bags. Thank goodness they were the white ones from Price Mart and not the tan ones from the Spend Thrift.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined Brittany’s last moments, struggling to breathe through the thin plastic.

  “I’ve always wanted a purple-themed bedroom,” Claire said, coming out of the bedroom with another large bag in her hands.

  “Why? So you can feel like you’re sleeping inside of a grape?”

  “Don’t be mean,” she scolded lightly. “It’s just for fun, and the color makes me smile.” She pulled a large blue throw rug from the bag and casually spread it out over the area between the table and the kitchen, the area where Brittany’s body had lain.

  Neither of them said anything about it, but having the gruesome spot covered did make Piper breathe a little easier.

  “Speaking of fun, I also got these.” Claire pulled a stack of Powerball and scratch tickets from her purse and spread them on the counter with a flourish. “I got a couple of Lucky Sevens for you and a quick-pick ticket for the lotto drawing.”

  “Are you kidding? Why would you waste your money on this stuff?”

  “It’s not a waste. And you can’t win if you don’t play. I play three Powerball tickets a week.” She held up three tickets. “One is always a quick-pick, one is your dad and I’s anniversary date, and I call this one “The Birthday Card.” She laid the last card on the counter and gave it a loving pat. “It’s got all three of our birthdays on it—yours, mine, and Denny’s—those are always my lucky numbers.” Her voice choked a little as she explained the last card.

  Piper thought tears may have filled her eyes, but Claire turned away and busied herself with emptying a bag of groceries.

  She ran her fingers over the array of colorful tickets. “Is this how you suddenly have money to buy all this stuff? Did you win it?”

  Claire turned on the radio, and either drowned out Piper’s questions or was choosing to ignore her as she opened all the cupboards. Several were completely bare. She touched the empty shelf in the cabinet next to the sink. “Don’t you have any glasses or mugs?”

  Piper pointed to the deep lower drawer next to the dishwasher. “We keep them down there.”

  Claire shook her head. “Why? Who keeps their glasses in a lower drawer? I thought everyone kept them in the cabinet above the dishwasher?”

  “I know. It’s weird. But I guess that’s the way Brittany’s family does it, and she’s the one who unpacked that part of the kitchen.”

  “Would it bother you if I moved them up here?”

  Piper shook her head. “I don’t care. And Brittany isn’t going to care anymore either.”

  Claire moved the few glasses and mugs up to the higher cabinet. “Do you have any other preferences or a specific order to your kitchen, or can I just put this food stuff away where I think it should go?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  “I’m not picky about sharing,” she said, filling a shelf with boxed pasta. “You can eat whatever you find. But I will totally respect your food if you don’t want to share.”

  “Brittany and I set aside one shelf in the fridge and one shelf in the pantry for stuff that was just ours. Otherwise, we shared stuff too. We figured it wasn’t worth the expense to double up on everyday stuff like having two cartons of milk.”

  “Makes sense.” She tossed Piper a bag of Caesar salad and set a bowl on the counter. “You want to mix this up while I finish putting stuff away? I thought it would go with the chicken.”

  Piper pushed the lottery tickets to the side, then ripped open the bag and dumped it into the bowl, actually happy to have a task to do instead of just watch as her mom took over the kitchen. She didn’t really care about the order of how the groceries were put away—she wasn’t really territorial about her stuff.

  Which was strange since she was an only child. But there were a lot of things about her and her childhood which didn’t fit the norm. And she’d learned long ago to not sweat the small stuff�
�like which kitchen shelf the canned soup went on.

  “So, what’s your day look like? Do you have class this afternoon?” Claire asked.

  “No. I work from two to five, then I’m having book club over here tonight so I’m coming home to make spaghetti.” She glanced at the full cupboards and knew her mom was making a real effort to get along. It wouldn’t hurt anything to at least be cordial. “There will be plenty of food. You can eat with us if you want.”

  The slightest smile crossed her mom’s face. “Thank you. I think I will.” She took a deep breath. “Cassie doesn’t know I’m back yet.”

  Interesting. “Why not?”

  “It was kind of a spur of the moment decision to come back. But it’s not a secret. I was going to call her. I just haven’t got around to it yet.”

  “Well, you’ll see her tonight.”

  “I guess so. What’s the book you’re reading?”

  Piper pointed to the paperback on the coffee table. “It’s a new psychological thriller. It was Edna’s choice—she loves books like that. It was pretty good. But with everything that’s happened, it also kind of gave me the creeps.”

  “I can understand that. Why would you want to read about a mysterious murder when you’re in the middle of one yourself?”

  Four hours later, Piper rushed up the steps to her apartment. She was so late. The book club was going to arrive in fifteen minutes, and she hadn’t even started cooking.

  A flash of white drew her eye to the space under the porch, and she caught a glimpse of the scruffy mutt. She leaned over the railing and spoke softly to the dog. “I don’t have time to feed you now, but I’ll bring you out some food in a bit. You’re a good girl.”

  She didn’t know why she now assumed the dog was a girl, as she hadn’t gotten close enough to check, but it seemed right to her.

  The dog laid down and settled her head on her front paws, as if she’d understood exactly what Piper had said and was prepared to contentedly wait.