Two Much Alike. Pamela Bauer

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Two Much Alike - Pamela Bauer


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smoothed the wrinkles out of a small undershirt. “Thank you, Arlene. I do my best.”

      “I know you do. And it shows. Of course, Luke does have quite a temper,” she remarked.

      Frannie gave her a smile. “He had a tantrum?”

      “I didn’t know kids could arch their backs that way,” she reflected with a weary chuckle.

      Frannie grimaced. “I’m sorry if he was a handful.”

      “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m a mother, too. I know what kids are like.” She picked up one of Luke’s socks that had fallen out of Frannie’s basket. “I’d forgotten how tiny they make these things.”

      Frannie smiled in understanding and continued to fold the clothes. “I appreciate your help with the kids today. They didn’t want to go to the walk-a-thon.”

      “And you shouldn’t have to take them with you when you work,” Arlene said as she reached inside the laundry basket for the matching sock.

      “Most of my assignments are during the week, and I can drop the kids off at day care if necessary, but on weekends I have to rely on the girl next door. When she’s busy, it means I either have to find someone to cover for me at the paper or bring the kids along.”

      “That can’t be easy,” Arlene commented, adding the pair of folded socks to Frannie’s pile.

      “No,” she said. “That’s why I’m grateful for what you did today.”

      Arlene blew off Frannie’s gratitude with a wave of her hand. “It was nothing. Actually, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’ve always made me feel welcome here, Frannie, despite everything that’s happened.”

      “That’s because you are welcome here,” Frannie said sincerely.

      “Thank you. It’s nice to hear you say that, especially when I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. I hope you don’t mind that I want to spend some time here with the children.”

      Frannie wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but she didn’t admit her uncertainty. “You said you quit your job?”

      “Yes. I wanted to see what it would be like to be footloose and fancy free.” She smiled reflectively. “I discovered I like it. Now I know why women marry money.”

      “Money isn’t everything.” Frannie recited the familiar refrain she’d used hundreds—maybe thousands—of times in the past few years.

      “No, but it makes life a bit less stressful,” Arlene said.

      “Is that why you’re looking so relaxed? Because you’ve come into some money?”

      A self-satisfied grin spread Arlene’s lips. “I’m here because I’ve had some very good luck recently and I want to share it with you and the children.”

      “What kind of luck?”

      “Do you remember me talking about Martha Ball?”

      “That sweet little old lady who lives down the hall from you?”

      Arlene nodded. “I used to pick up her groceries for her, take her to the beauty shop once a week…you know, those kinds of things. She had such bad arthritis that it was difficult for her to get around.”

      “Had?”

      A sadness came into Arlene’s eyes. “She passed away a couple of months ago.”

      Frannie placed a hand on Arlene’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I know you were fond of her.”

      “Yes, she was a dear. And a bit of a gambler. She used to look forward to me coming over so we could play penny-ante poker.” Arlene shook her head, a nostalgic twinkle in her eye. “All those years we played for pennies…I had no idea how much she was actually worth.”

      “She had a lot of money?”

      “Oh, yes, and no family to share it with. That’s why when she died she left everything to the people she said had been the kindest to her.”

      “And you were one of them?”

      Again she nodded. “There weren’t many people who took the time to visit her. Just a handful of us who stopped in to play cards. None of us expected to get anything. Heck, we all thought she was one step from poverty. We’d often let her win just to give her a few extra bucks.” She chuckled at the memory.

      “Then it must have come as a surprise to learn you had an inheritance.”

      “Oh, my goodness, yes! I had no idea she had money in the bank. Every month when I’d help her write out her checks to pay the bills, there barely seemed enough for her to get by. She would say she had a little bit put away for a rainy day—which I thought meant thousands, not hundreds of thousands.”

      “Hundreds of thousands?” Frannie’s eyes widened.

      “You can imagine my shock. I’ve lived payday to payday my entire life.”

      “Most of us do,” she said soberly.

      “You shouldn’t have to.”

      Frannie really didn’t want to be having this conversation with her ex-mother-in-law because she knew where it was leading. And she didn’t want to talk about her ex-husband.

      Arlene, however, would not be swayed. “I want to give some of this money to you and the kids…you know, to try to make up for what Dennis hasn’t done.”

      “You don’t need to do that,” Frannie began, only to have the other woman cut her short.

      “I know I don’t have to. I want to. What good is inheriting money if you can’t share it with the ones you love?”

      It was a very generous gesture, yet Frannie couldn’t let her do it. She knew that Arlene had worked hard all her life and had very little to show for it. Forever bailing Dennis out of trouble, she’d never hesitated to spend her money to help her son. Now she wanted to give away what could be her retirement nest egg because of obligations he’d failed to meet.

      “If you want to put a little money aside for college for the kids, that’s fine, but you don’t need to help us out, Arlene. We’re doing all right.” It wasn’t exactly the truth. Frannie was tired of there never being enough money, but she also knew that until she no longer had the expense of day care, she’d continue to scramble for money.

      Arlene’s face fell. “You don’t want my help?”

      “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your future because of Dennis’s irresponsible behavior. That money should be used for your retirement, not for raising your grandchildren.” Frannie didn’t like the awkwardness that the subject of money had introduced into their conversation. “Look, I think it’s best that we don’t talk about Dennis.”

      “No, you’re probably right,” Arlene agreed. “It’s how we’ve managed to stay friends, isn’t it? By not talking about him?”

      Frannie knew there was no need for her to answer.

      “I just have one question,” Arlene said.

      Reluctantly, Frannie asked, “About Dennis?”

      She nodded. “Do you think there’s any chance that Alex’s posters might succeed in finding him?”

      Frannie shook her head. “We’ve hired private investigators who haven’t been able to come up with any leads.”

      “That’s true.”

      “And if Dennis was going to contact anyone, it would be you.”

      “I don’t think so, not after I threatened to turn him in to the authorities.” Arlene sighed. “I’m not proud to call him my son, Frannie. You ought to know that. And it hurts me to see Alex struggling with all of this. If there was some way


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