Better Than Chocolate by Sheila Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

just…”
    “Go ahead and make yourself something. I’ll be out in a few
minutes.” Muriel returned to the bathroom with as much dignity as she could
muster. She was too young for her daughter to be telling her what to do.
    Although Samantha was right. She needed a bath.
    Twenty minutes later she emerged to find her daughter huddled
on a stool at the kitchen counter, nursing her own mug of coffee. Muriel joined
her and they sat side by side, looking at the empty kitchen.
    “I can’t seem to get my feet under me,” Muriel murmured.
    “You will,” Samantha said.
    And, if her daughter had anything to say about it, the sooner,
the better, but all that busyness seemed like a waste of time. Her head suddenly
hurt.
    “So, how about an omelet?” Samantha coaxed.
    Waldo loved a big, hearty breakfast. “It starts the day out
right,” he used to say.
    There was no right way to start this day. “No, I don’t want
anything,” Muriel said. Except to have my husband
back.
    “Let me at least get you some toast.”
    Fine, if it would make her happy. Muriel nodded.
    It wasn’t until Samantha had toasted and buttered a piece of
rye bread, put it on a plate and set it on the counter that Muriel’s foggy brain
made an observation. “You’re not at the office.”
    Samantha nudged the plate closer. “Have some toast.”
    Muriel took a bite and chewed. She might as well have been
chewing sawdust. She pushed the plate aside. “I thought you’d be at the
office.”
    Once again Samantha inched the plate closer. “Have another
bite.”
    Again Muriel pushed it away. She narrowed her eyes at her
daughter. “Samantha Rose. Why are you here?”
    Samantha dropped her gaze to the counter and gnawed her lip.
Behind that pretty face lived a will of steel that showed itself in a strong
chin always set in determination. Today, though, her daughter looked like she’d
collapsed in on herself.
    Maternal mode overpowering grief, Muriel reached across the
counter and laid a hand on Samantha’s arm. “Tell me,” she commanded even though
she didn’t want to hear. Between her daughter and the doctors, she’d been
hearing enough miserable news the past few months to last her a lifetime. She
shuddered inwardly and braced herself.
    Samantha looked up at her, eyes filled with desperation. “I
don’t even know how to say this.”
    Of the three girls this daughter had never been afraid to tell
her mother exactly what she thought. “Just tell me. It can’t top any of the bad
news I’ve had in the past month.”
    “The bank is calling in its note. If I don’t come up with the
money by the end of next month they’ll seize our assets and we’ll lose the
business.”
    She’d known the company was having trouble, but hearing this,
Muriel felt like she’d been knocked over by an avalanche. First that horrible
diagnosis, followed by Waldo’s sudden death, now the business. What next?
    If she’d stayed in the modest paid-for house where she and
Stephen had raised the girls, she and Samantha could have gone to the bank and
gotten a home equity loan and solved this problem. But instead, she’d traded up
and bought a big, new house to go with her new husband and her new life. Real
estate values in the region had fallen and even she knew what that meant—her
house wasn’t worth what it once was. And that meant the amount of equity she had
to trade on amounted to zilch.
    It seemed wrong to ask your daughter, “What are we going to
do?” She should’ve had an answer. But she didn’t. So she sat there and stared at
Samantha, feeling like the world’s worst mother, willing her brain to become
math-friendly.
    “I’ve been to the bank,” Samantha said. “They won’t help us.
Right now there’s only one thing I can think to do.”
    She’d thought of something. Good. Whatever it was, Muriel would
support her.
    Samantha hesitated, chewing her lip. She obviously wasn’t happy
with the solution she’d come up with.
    “I’m listening,”