Family Secrets. Ruth Dale Jean

stunned expressions of her former coworkers, she squared her shoulders, prepared to stare them down.

      Eric broke the impasse. “Tough break, Sharlee.”

      Then they all swung into action: “Yeah, tough break. A shame... Unfair.”

      Fair rarely had anything to do with life, she’d long since discovered. Sharlee drew a deep breath and walked to her desk. “He just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I was going to quit, anyway.”

      They didn’t believe her, but they all nodded understandingly. Eric said, “If there’s anything I—” he glanced around “—anything we can do...”

      She couldn’t force a smile. “Thanks, but I can’t think of a thing. Unless you know of any job openings?” She saw their helpless expressions. “I didn’t think so.”

      Pulling open desk drawers, she began hauling out the personal items she’d accumulated over the past eleven months, trying not to think about her situation, about the underhandedness of her grandmother, about a future that no longer looked promising.

      And especially, she tried not to think about where she was going to find another job.

      

      RUNNING ON ADRENALINE, she made it all the way to her car before it really hit her.

      She’d just been fired.

      She’d never been fired before and it was horrible. She felt like dirt.

      What was she going to do now? With trembling hands, she thrust the key into the ignition and gave it a quick turn. The engine came to life slowly. It coughed a couple of times but, all in all, behaved remarkably well.

      Driving through a sparkling clear August day, Sharlee headed for her apartment—not home. It had never felt like home and she’d never made the slightest effort to make it homey. She’d never intended to be there for the long term. She’d planned to use the Courier as a springboard to something better, but after this it was probably a springboard to oblivion.

      She stopped for a red light, the car idling like a lawn mower. Maybe she could still find some good in this. It would at least push her into doing something. She’d make a few phone calls, check the Internet, see what was out there—

      A blast from a car horn woke her up and she made a hasty left-hand turn into her street. At least she still had transportation. If she had to go out of town for job interviews—

      The engine sputtered and died.

      Just like that, she found herself coasting down the street in eerie silence. Guiding the vehicle to the curb, she took a deep breath intended to forestall the cloud of gloom settling around her head.

      She turned the key in the ignition. The engine growled. She tried again. The growl was shorter and fainter.

      The third time, nothing happened. No growl, none.

      “I’m doomed!” She said it out loud, leaning forward over the steering wheel with her eyes squeezed shut.

      Then she straightened, flung open the door, climbed out and hiked the five blocks to her apartment, swearing under her breath with every step.

      

      DEV WAITED IN THE ENTRY to her apartment building. Why was she not surprised?

      “You!” Marching up to him, she whapped him good on the arm with her leather shoulder bag.

      “Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “What’s your problem?”

      “I hate you—oops, that’s not a problem, actually. It’s a fact.”

      “But—”

      “Devin Oliver, I could kill you for what you’ve done to me this time!”

      A bulky form hurtled the last ten or so steps down the stairs to the right of the entryway. “Hey, what’s going on? Is this guy bothering you, Sharlee?”

      Brawny Bill Bolliver to the rescue, clad in a net tank top and biker shorts, muscles bulging in every direction.

      “He certainly is bothering me,” she said angrily.

      “Want me to hurt ’im?” Bill pounded one big fist into the other palm. Turning, he did a double take. “Howdy, Dev. What’s up?”

      “She’s mad at me,” Dev said. “I don’t know why.”

      “Liar.”

      “I can throw him out if you want me to,” Bill said, frowning. “Sorry, Dev, but someone’s got to look out for Sharlee.”

      “I understand perfectly.”

      They turned to her for agreement. She longed to smack them both. Instead, she marched to the stairs leading to her second-floor apartment. “I don’t care what either one of you do. Excuse me, I’m going to go slit my wrists now. I’d appreciate it if you’d just leave me alone.”

      She stomped angrily up the stairs.

      Bill looked at Dev. “She was joking, right?”

      “Right. I’ll go along to make sure, though.”

      

      SHE ALMOST SUCCEEDED in slamming the door in Dev’s face, but like a door-to-door salesman, he managed to wedge a toe inside.