Nothing But Trouble Read Free Page B

her Camry moved forward. It was so unfair, the way death had touched her again, robbing her so suddenly of someone she loved and cutting his life short. Had it not been for the crash her mother would now be in her mid-sixties and still vital, and Gail would only be in her early forties. Even Aunt Joan had passed away much too young some time ago, a victim of cancer. And Kenny, the one who’d most recently joined all of them ...
    She felt moisture pooling in her eyes and blinked it away. Instead, she looked at the Ziploc bag on the seat beside her, bulging with microcassette tapes to be transcribed.
    She had no time for tears; she had work to do.
    Â 
    Â 
    One of the first things Dana did after Kenny’s accident was put his Eclipse and his weights up for sale. They both sold quickly, but still, every time she pulled into her driveway after six P.M. a tiny part of her psyche that ignored reality expected to see his car there. Then it hit her all over again that he wouldn’t ever be coming home, and that was when the misgivings started: If only I had gotten home earlier. Kenny wouldn’t have been alone. I could have gotten that weight off him before he suffocated. It had become part of her daily routine.
    She pulled up in front of the detached garage. She and Kenny were thrilled when they found this house nine years before. She used to feel pride at the sight of her well-tended home, built in a community purposely designed to look like a throwback to an earlier era, when houses were built close to the sidewalk, with wide front porches and separate garages. Now she felt a combination of rage and exhaustion. Kenny had died in the garage, and even though she knew it wasn’t rational, she hated the sight of the structure. But it took energy to sustain anger, energy she needed to reserve for the hours of work still in front of her.
    Dana found Brittany in the kitchen, wearing oven mitts on both hands as she removed a meat loaf from the oven. “The timer just went off, Mom.”
    â€œGood. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
    â€œDid you get to the office before they closed?”
    â€œYes. Traffic wasn’t bad. Everything’s fine,” she said in the bright tone she always used when she talked to her daughter. It sounded less than authentic these days, even to her own ears.
    â€œYou look tired, Mom.”
    â€œI had a lot of work to do today, but tomorrow my load will be lighter. It’s Wednesday, and they either close early or don’t come in at all.”
    â€œYou want me to make the mashed potatoes?”
    â€œSure. Put in a little extra milk, will you?”
    â€œOkay, but it’ll have to be evaporated milk. I opened a can to use for the meat loaf because we didn’t have any real milk.”
    â€œWe’ve got milk. I just bought some last night.”
    â€œI didn’t see it, Mom.”
    Dana opened the refrigerator portion of the side-by-side. She fully expected to see the plastic gallon container tucked in the wide shelf inside the door rather than on the glass shelves in front, the only place Brittany had probably looked. Kids could be so lazy sometimes.
    But there was no container. Dana frowned, and her eyes widened when she realized there could be only one solution as to the whereabouts of the milk. “I’ll be right back.” She slammed the refrigerator shut and ran toward the back door. Outside, she raised the trunk of her Camry, and there was the jug of milk, nestled in a corner so it wouldn’t fall over. Damn it! She thought she’d brought everything inside last night.
    She wrapped her fingers around the handle. It was warm, and certainly the contents were spoiled after being in the hot trunk all day. She carried it inside.
    â€œDon’t drink this; it’s sour,” she said to Brittany. “It’s been in the trunk since last night.”
    Brittany made a face. “Then why are you putting it