Some Kind of Miracle by Iris R. Dart Read Free Book Online

about it. According to Louie, Sunny would never know about anything again.

four
     
     
     
    “T hank you for calling Bank of America’s twenty-four-hour banking service. For account balances or to stop payment on a check, please press one.”
    Maybe it was the stock market’s being so iffy that made people cut back on their luxuries, or maybe it was just the fact that it was summer and people were traveling, but the massage business was going into the toilet. Dahlia still had her few regulars, but they weren’t enough to pay her bills. At least Seth split the mortgage payment with her, and that helped a lot, but her cash-flow situation was getting desperate. Tomorrow she’d deposit about two hundred and fifty dollars, but her balance had to be precariously low.
    “Please enter your ten-digit account number.
    “Please enter the last four digits of your Social Security number.
    “Your current balance is seven dollars and twenty-three cents.”
    After her mother died, her father had been in such bad shape that Dahlia had moved him into a convalescent home where they provided assisted living. He had no health insurance, so all the proceeds from the sale of her parents’ house had gone into keeping him in the tiny, shared room where Dahlia went to visit him nearly every day, though he barely knew she was there. Then, as if her father had been keeping daily track of what was in the bank, he died on the day the balance in his account was down to twenty-seven dollars.
    The truth was that this little massage business of hers wasn’t going to keep her afloat. She had to do something about her life. She was too young to be a has-been and too good to be a one-trick pony with only one idea. She had lots of ideas. Unfortunately, nobody thought they were good but her. Today there were very few publishing deals like there used to be for songwriters. Once she thought her future was going to be turning out hit song after hit song and living a life of luxury. Tonight she put the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to ward off the headache that was coming on. She had to do the math and figure out how long it was going to take her to come up with the cash for her half of the mortgage payment.
     
     
     
    The familiar smell of Uncle Max’s hardware store engulfed her the instant she walked in the front door. She used to come here as a little girl and be fascinated with the seed packets and their flowery designs, and she used to love the colorful plastic kiddie pools thatUncle Max always displayed outside every morning to attract the commuters who drove by on Moorpark Street. Louie still put the same racks of merchandise outside that she remembered from her childhood.
    Maybe seeing her face would bring back some warm feelings and Louie would drop his usual hard-ass defensiveness that used to make everyone in the family refer to him behind his back as King Kong. After all, even King Kong had his tender moments, Dahlia told herself as she wandered through the aisle of hose nozzles. When a punk-haired young clerk asked if he could help her, she said, “I’m Louie’s cousin Dahlia, and I just dropped by to say hello.” She smiled and hoped she sounded casual and sincere.
    “He’s takin’ a break out back,” the clerk said. “I’ll go find him.”
    Charm, charm, Dahlia said to herself, watching the punk kid head for the back of the store. Don’t bring up old family stuff. Just charm the little creep into giving you the address. After a minute she heard Louie’s voice.
    “Hey, it’s my famous cousin Dahlia! You must be slumming to come down here. You still writing those bad songs that nobody wants? Maybe you stopped by to hit your old cuz for some dough?” Louie had some gray in what was left of his hair, and he was considerably rounder in the waistline than the time she’d seen him in Gelson’s.
    “Whaddya say, Louie?” Dahlia said, offering him a hand to shake, since she knew a hug was out of the question. Louie