No Way Out Fern Michaels (e reader books .TXT) 📖

the drinking. She pulled over to the side of the road and burst into tears. Not since her husband had died had she felt like her calm and well-controlled life was slipping out of her grasp.

She must have been sitting there for several minutes because a patrol car pulled up behind her. “Oh Lord, now what?”

The officer walked up to her window. “You all right, ma’am?”

“Oh, yes, thank you. I just got a little weepy thinking about my late husband and thought it best to pull over.” Vivian could be a good liar when necessary. Well, it was partly true.

“You OK to drive? Do you want me to call anyone for you?” the patrolman asked.

“No, I’m fine. Really. I have to pick up my son and grandson at the theater in an hour. I might do a little shopping before I go. Retail therapy I think is what they call it.” She smiled at the officer.

He smiled back. “Sorry for your loss, ma’am. Try to enjoy the rest of the day.”

Vivian started her engine and headed toward the outlet shops. She failed to mention that her husband had been dead for twenty-six years.

Vivian stopped at the Cheesecake Factory and bought some cookies and cupcakes. She didn’t know why, but it seemed like a good idea. Then she spotted a shop that sold scarves and gloves and went inside. She picked a pink floral print and wrapped it around her neck. It brightened her face. The price tag said $35. She looked around for something less expensive and found one for $18. Glancing around the shop, she noticed that the two clerks were engaged in conversation. The price tags were secured with a simple gold safety pin, so she switched the price tags, taking the one she wanted to the cash register. If they spotted the incorrect price, she could fake it. How was she to know the tags were on the wrong items? Neither clerk noticed, and she handed them cash and walked out the door. Not only did the scarf brighten her face, it brightened her mood. She had given up on the Lord twenty-six years ago, and after what she had witnessed at the restaurant, she decided it was no more Mrs. Goody Two-Shoes for her.

She checked the clock on the bank building outside the shop and decided it was time to skedaddle and head back to the movie theater.

As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw Mitchel and Jackson waiting in front of the ice-cream shop. She parked the car and walked briskly toward them.

“Grammy! A new scarf?” Jackson yelled out. He had never seen his grandmother wearing anything that pretty before.

“Yes, Jackson. I thought I should treat myself.” She shot Mitchel a look.

“It’s lovely, Mother, but I wish you would have let me treat you,” Mitchel broke in.

“You need to hang on to your cash, son. I am perfectly capable of treating myself.” That much was true. Between Gregory Sr.’s life insurance policy and his Social Security, she was financially stable. The house had been paid for before her husband died, and the property taxes were minimal, owing to a special farm rate. Her only monthly expenses were utilities, food, and gas for the car. She had offered Mitchel his old bedroom, but he had chosen to stay with his brother, saying it was closer to Jackson. That, too, was true. Still, she felt that Mitchel would have a better chance at gaining joint custody if he had a more permanent environment. She wondered what Mitchel was going to do about that. She knew he couldn’t afford an apartment without a job. She also knew that she was particularly hard on her sons, but with her new attitude, maybe Mitchel would change his mind.

They went into the ice-cream shop, and Jackson ordered a scoop of cherry vanilla and a scoop of chocolate. “With lots of sprinkles, please,” Jackson said politely to the young girl dressed in the pink-striped jumper and funny hat that looked like an ice-cream cone turned upside down.

“Absolutely!” She smiled at him.

Mitchel and Vivian both ordered a scoop of coffee ice cream sans sprinkles.

“So, my man, we still have a couple of hours. How about we go bowling?” He looked at Vivian for approval after he addressed Jackson.

Vivian sat back and folded her arms across her chest. She reminded herself that that Vivian was the old version. Then she relaxed and smiled.

“That’s if Grammy doesn’t mind driving us around a little more.” He looked over at his mother. She was smiling. He was surprised.

“Oh, I don’t see why not. We do have lots of time. As long I don’t have to participate. You know how much I hate renting bowling shoes!” She chuckled. Mitchel did a double take. Who is this woman?

Jackson laughed out loud. “Grammy, you’re funny!”

Vivian fiddled with her new scarf. “I’m simply happy to be with two of my favorite men. Of course, Gregory is a favorite, too, but he’s not here today.”

Jackson was taking the final lick from his cone as the others got up from the table. “Finish up before we get in the car, please.” Mitchel was giving Jackson a warning.

“No problem, Dad.” Jackson began crunching on the sugar cone. A minute later, he showed that his hands were empty. “See?”

Vivian chimed in. “I see you should probably go wash your hands.” She’s still smiling. How odd, Mitchel thought.

The restroom was only a few feet away from the table, so Mitchel let Jackson go in by himself. While Jackson was in the bathroom, Mitchel leaned over to his mother. “Everything OK?”

“Of course, Mitchel. Why do you ask?”

“You seem, well, I guess the word is ‘relaxed.’ ” Mitchel chose his words carefully.

“I am, dear.”

Mitchel blinked. Dear? She hadn’t called him that since he was in the fifth grade.

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.” Mitchel let out a big exhale. He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath.

“Listen. I really appreciate you babysitting both of us